bubbles, toil, and trouble
i'm absent-minded as a general rule, but pre-caffeine mornings are worst. as with this morning, when I absent-mindedly boarded the wrong bus on my way to campus, and found myself on a bus full of, well, chavs. it didn't strike me immediately. the bus was unusually empty, I thought, and the route unnaturally long. what finally provoked the dawning realization that I was headed not to a hallowed place of Learning and Erudition but to Coventry (i.e. the diametric opposite) was the fact that the conversations around me were like little pockets of vacuity, revolving around "mate, she's well fit, i was creamin' me pants watchin' her ass last night", or "reckon we could ride the bus round the whole way before goin' to school", or "i had a phat McSausage this morning,", or my favourite, "me mum's gone off on one again, she was well ratted last night and came back with some bloomin' hairy bloke, hurhhurh, score!!!" about fifteen minutes and a long (long, long, long) walk to campus later, i was listening to a lecture on the methodological consequences of the Annales historical tradition and the structuralization of the practice of history, while my mind seized up at the contrast. no wonder, I thought later, that so many revolutions have begun at university. we live in a bubble, folks. I won't be forgetting that for a while.