Latest Articles by Sarah Canice Funke
taken from a private email. the formless flow describes life right now more than anything.
life fluxes. someone's thesis is in dire straits...facts and interpretation; haphazardly struggling to meet halfway on the pages. and so the deadline approaches. will this someone graduate? we'll tell you next year, if you're still around.
life suspends. applications sent out. the job search in earnest. but callbacks come in May. freelance opportunities suggest a multitude of potential migrations. the states beckon, the provinces bid farewell. the east coast seems promising. possibly even chattanooga? in all likelihood, a sojourn. i have figured out how to live in my car. all i need in life is the internet. i will park next to the library and catch the wireless on the sly. will the librarian give me a card if i boast no permanent address? this remains to be seen. but i can leave the books on the return shelf when i pass out the doors and find my pilgrim way to my transitory abode.
prospects dismal? not really. simply uncertain. formless in features. like this email, a response to the isolated moment of a single day.
and the present crowds in: me and Foucault have a date. we'll spite the capricious future.
and now,
sarah funke