I am a the proudest monkey

Today has been nowhere near as productive as I'd imagined it would be. Other than the rice pudding in the refectory I've got to admit I've really kind of piddled the day away. Firstly I had the 9:30 Folk and Urban Music class this morning in which a professor who had stood in for the usual professor (Jill) previously, lectured again today. He was frustrated with the group as apparently the students had told our regular professor (Jill) that he (today's professor) hadn't explained to them the evolution of the 12 bar blues format. No...really frustrated. The words were "well guys, I talked to Jill and from what she said you'd think I stood up here and quacked for a couple of hours. You made me look like a right cunt!" But beyond that initial outburst he was actually very good humored. Some kids were goofing off in the back and the exchange was
Him: Hey. Am I boring you?
Them: No.
Him: Right. Shut the fuck up then.
I can't decide whether I like such a hopelessly relaxed and colloquial approach to education in a classroom setting. It's refreshing to some extent, I appreciate a professor who doesn't let his students walk all over him and knows his material, but I can't help but feel that it some way it degrades the material itself. As though it says something about the blues, about Muddy Waters bass lines, about Bessie Smith herself even, that she would be taught by a guy so crude.
Makes me miss John McDonald, my advisor, who wears slippers to class and achieves that familiarity and laid-back environment this guy might have been looking for without forcing it. He's just so damn zen. I suppose John has been known to say that what Schubert is doing is here is "bullshitting" (I think he might have actually put it in quotes), essentially melodic water-treading, if you will, but never swore at students. In fact other than that one example I can't remember him ever swearing in class. Outside or in meetings, upon occasion. Again, not that I have a problem with swearing in the least-- I think it's effective. But more often than not I just think it's unimaginative. Fuck? That's the best you can do? Please.

Beyond that class, the day was spent reading (slogging through Jane Austen Book Club still...endless), on the phone with customer support with the MyNow Internet thingy thing...program...deal...and now I've got internet back up, going to do some more reading, have some soup and call it a night. Tomorrow I have fantasies of talking a walk through Kew Gardens, stopping for a cup of tea at the Orangerie and plowing through the rest of this book. And perhaps dim sum.

I'm currently online searching for a website for Saint Chapelle. I suppose it is a mildly ridiculous notion that a gothic church would have a website. I'm looking for concerts for Mozart's Birthday tomorrow; seems like it's something worth traveling to Paris for. We'll see. I'll be awfully content with St. Martins if need be. Or if I'm feeling particularly cheap I'll just walk with the Magic Flute on my ipod.

Now for soup...