J'ai oublié tout mon français.

It's the first day of a new semester, people! Second-Semester French and American Literature today. We're reading things like Huck Finn & Gatsby, so it's that kind of American lit.

I think I caught whatever flu-ish bug Jacquelyn had, but in my typical fashion, it is much reduced and won't last nearly as long. I just have an alternating stuffy/runny nose and the sore throat that goes with it. I will survive.

In other news... here is some of the footage of a housewife from 1956 on LSD. When the researcher asks her about what she's experiencing, her descriptions are about the best summation of the experience I've ever heard.

Last Wednesday, I took photos of my friend Spencer doing his solo-acoustic set at the relatively-new awesome bar/lounge that I've been frequenting.



He will also be playing at the art show I did a flyer for:



Last, but not least, you should check out this collection of photographs from the World Beard & Mustache Contest. It's pretty fantastic.

Wish me luck, kids. Consider my nose officially back to the grindstone.

And so it begins...

My first French teacher was from Switzerland and thus spoke French with a Swiss accent. My new French teacher is from Wisconsin, but learned most of her French in the Caribbean and thus speaks with a French-Caribbean accent. Weird.

Also, she said that she has connections to a summer camp in France, so if we want to spend a summer living in a castle and teaching English to little French kids, she can help us out. That would actually be pretty cool, but something tells me I couldn't bring the cats.

Apparently all the people who are still speaking French without even attempting the accent at the end of 101 don't take 102. Almost everyone in my new class had a much better accent than, well, everyone else in my first semester class.

This semester we should get into cuisine, fashion, more culture, the body, and some politics.

I did some reconnaissance and discovered my lit class is in a giant lecture hall. I should have guessed – it's a 200-level course. My lit class last semester was a 500-level course only required for English majors.

I don't know how it's possible, but the students look even younger this semester than last. Or maybe I aged a lot over break, but either way, I am having trouble shaking the idea that I'm in one of those 80's movies where the parent goes back and pretends to be a high school student.