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Glenn (inventively—and wittily, as is his
kaffeeklatsch wont) (also quite a singer and

maker of songs) said why not let professors
improve their pay (lessening in buying power

since 1968—see, Schwartz) by selling time
to local commercial interests: apart from

the midclass break that lets kids visit the
facilities, one could have one or more mini

breaks, such as, in addition let me suggest
that you visit Zikakis—good sales, good

service: or, Odysseus, come ashore naked,
bristled with brine salt—and now, have you

tried the Downtown Bagelry: not only would
this supplement the poor professor’s wage

but it would put the students, unused to such
in touch with the realities that produce the

funds that universities suck off, no, I mean,
suck from: no tuna salad is to be had sucking

off, I mean, from Odysseus, not that the clear
visions of isles and spooky women and

attractive monsters don’t brace the spirit:
Glenn’s fun: also capable of pertinent and

deep thought: we like him, as do others: as
a professor myself I am conversant with the

opinion (now conviction) that anything
formidable enough to be taught is not worth

teaching—is, that is, exhausted, unless it
can be revived: for things are said and

taught only to get beyond themselves: students
must rifle through these forms in order to get

to the uncertainty, blips, and hints that
suggest the what-is-to-found is being approached:

so what does the professor have: merely the
possibility of grace in redrawing the line:

I said to my neighbor, both of us new to old
houses, a tree, apparently on the line, has

leaned partly out of its roots toward your
roof, and it must be taken down, and he said,

whose trees these are I wish I knew: were they
planted by your old owner or mine, and are they

on the line or not, and who’s going to pay for
it: all I could think to say was, it looks

a little like the leaning Tower of Pisa—

GET OUT