Right now, in Philadelphia, more than 10,000 literature scholars are gathered for the Convention of the Modern Language Association which began yesterday.


Right now, in Philadelphia, more than 10,000 literature scholars are terrorizing bars across the city, swarming upon bartenders like a plague of locusts, only literature scholars are more annoying than locusts because they'll get too drunk to stand upright and still try to correct your grammar.


How I envy them.


Not that I have significant reason to. (Heh, I just ended with a sentence with a preposition; howd'ya like that?!) The night before Christmans Eve marked the beginning of the end of my hermit streak I'd been setting since the end of the semester. Now, with my ears still ringing from loud music and eyes red from lack of sleep, I'm almost glad to settle down into a regular work week.


Then again, Sibbitt made me a gift of a Cuban cigar he acquired on his travels (the kind old man Hemingway smoked) and a bottle of homemade apple brandy. If anyone would like to share a good cigar and get drunk (or as the MLA might say, get literary,) I shan't be far.


What a wonderful time of year.