i’ve been get­ting emails from the class i dropped late­ly. appar­ent­ly, the group i had signed up to do a pre­sen­ta­tion with at the begin­ning of the year had not real­ized i dropped the class over a month ago. i’ve been rev­el­ing in their email strug­gles to set up a time to meet with my pro­fes­sor. today how­ev­er, my sadis­tic voyeurism end­ed. the prof final­ly real­ized that i was on the email list and was no longer in the class, there­by inform­ing the rest of the group that “Adam Har­vey is no longer a part of the class.” i could sense the ven­om in those words, espe­cial­ly since she sent the email to me as well. poor crap­tas­tic ex-teacher of mine.

in oth­er news, i’m so tired of read­ing poems about rape in my poet­ry class that i am going to fight back. Now, the very fact that each week there is at least one poem a week writ­ten by a girl about sex­u­al assault or rape or the inva­sive, vio­lent aspects of sex, points to a vari­ety of prob­lems. first, that things like this occur on a scale such as this, sec­ond, that even if said writ­ers have not been raped, they still feel that they must write about it con­stant­ly. third, that i have yet to see a poem that is con­struc­tive or feels even slight­ly enjoy­able toward the sex­u­al act. And fourth, that the poems i’ve been read­ing about rape are so uncon­struc­tive and have become so stale that i feel that i must write a poem from the stand­point of a rapist. at first my friend Kate sug­gest­ed i write a poem as if i’d been raped. i imme­di­ate­ly changed it to being a rapist. its quite more con­fronta­tion­al and i think i can chan­nel my exas­per­a­tion after 13 weeks of rape poems quite nice­ly. what is my poet­ry class com­ing to? jee­bus.