This is barely more than a postlet, but, six months later, it's probably best to put some distance between the front page and the previous post.
A random file search lead me to the folder where I kept all my notes for my 2007 Master's Thesis. The story I've told myself and others for years is that my Master's project was a ridiculously close reading of an author's oeuvre of a dozen books, with next to zero secondary sources. But the folder has notes on about fifty different secondary texts, ranging from psychoanalysis to gender theory to genre theory to ecocriticism. Funny how the story in your head about the past drifts from the truth, even when the drift frames you in a less positive light.
Funny indeed. Later Days.
