Written in class early this afternoon (why won’t McGill’s wireless give me a signal in the Arts building?):
And the sage of head-banging against the desk continues…
Yet again we are being given a synopsis of a book I’ve read from cover to cover. This lack of primary sources is driving me crazy. A great books curriculum is worth so much more than these survey classes. The Courtier is one of my favourite books (hence the citation on the top of this page) and this brief summary of it does not do it justice in the least.
Okay, and now we are discussing Lorenzo Valla, the author of the Donation of Constantine, possibly one of the wittiest works I have ever read and we are not even looking at the text. Why? We are being robbed of an opportunity to study something much more worthwhile so a professor can ramble on and on with everyone ferverently jotting down notes.
Evening update: moved half my shit in. My grandfather is in intensive care. His limbs are like ice, but apparently his core temperature is through the roof. The medications they are giving him conflict and are causing even more damage. It’s going to be a rough week-end.