It’s a beautiful, 70-degree Sunday, which we’re soaking up for all it’s worth because the weather forecast for Tuesday is 30 and snowy again.* The cats and I are camped out on the bed in the sunshine, working on my theory paper.
By which I mean, of course, that I am working on my theory paper, and the cats are walking across my books, chewing my pencils, and generally making nuisances of themselves.
I’ve been describing my theory paper as occupying that space on the Venn diagram shared by postcolonial theory, feminist disability theory, deconstruction, and critical race theory. This is an impossible space, which is precisely why I like it.
I spent last week nose-to-the-grindstoning my poetry seminar paper, which argues in favor of poetics as an entry into neuroatypical perception and as a potential “shared space” in which the allist majority can all stop nastily pretending that we autists have no inner symbolic order or nothing worthwhile to say.
The theory paper, true to Spivak’s description of deconstruction as a “persistent critique of that which we cannot not want,” immediately complicates this notion. I like Spivak as an entry to just about any theoretical fray precisely because she calls us to a constant complication of our own presumptions and our own presumptuousness.
*If you don’t like the weather in Michigan, wait five minutes….