hanseul recently, strongly, about our gov't's mindblowing use of ignoble us wartime precedent to justify current antiterrorism plans. that they would do this. that most americans wouldn't be aware of it, and thereby that they are immune from any popular excoriation (not like it would matter?) that many americans could not be bothered to draw the parallels. that some americans would think this justified. i am neither jaded, nor tired, nor world-weary. and this is not what i expect of the 'world'. it's this dialectic between being a student and being a real person. i've talked so much with v about this. to be so shielded by the daily pennsylvanian. your senses of youthful outrages or piquancies subverted. 'such and such'. will our intellectual generation be facing in or out? (and while i'm at it, up, or down...left, or right. we've established that thought is a circle, though, no?) i don't feel a lot that much of the c p e can really touch us. though obviously it can, and obviously it's a mortifying belief when so many young people around me are trying to change or are thinking of the changes which touch those far afield. please god, don't let me blame wharton. someone out there, feeling very self-satisfied? but there isn't any blame inside of me.

mm, like, how stridently asian-american i was, like at cty and for a few years afterwards, maybe. flitting from ethnicities and generations. very crudely, now that i look back, dissecting the most obvious parts of the asian-american contra-asset. i don't even remember what else i might have fought for or burrowed into. or climbed out into, really. a voice. i could flatter/flatten myself into thinking that i am more of a grassroots person. to share chamber music. enjoin a sense of academic empowerment at this, the fake ivy? totally self-indulgent now. :^P i don't even smile enough, most days. and pcms is so grassroots, our cashbox is a plastic bag. and our president is a plastic bitch [pure venting]. when and where would i make the jump from fiction to nonfiction?