Academia Dirge

You know he's Norman Normal, He looks a lot like you.
Ev'ry party that Norman goes to
You've been there before,
He's got some funny things he might have said
That he forgets until they close the door.
You know he's Norman Normal, He acts a lot like you.

Sometimes I feel
Like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel
Like a motherless child
A long...a long way...from home


Another Semester
Sept/Dec `72


On this first day of class, I am promenading among the multitudes once
again. The many flavors of University are obvious. Sidewalk chalked
markings of various radical movements greet me, and, glancing up, I
see bouncing breasts of braless chicks exhibiting their individualism.
In an incredible display of drama I see students reunite with friends
and Professors. They reinforce goals and purpose in this way—whether
for fame, fortune, or marriage; this is indeed the college trip. Long
ago I realized this performance contributed nothing to an already
worthless play.

Once, an excited and eager student myself, I bought into the endless
erudition flowing from the mouths of educators. I thirsted for
knowledge, albeit the knowledge that kept me from seeing the
fictitious university ideals, but I learned fast and now I'm back.
And, although I am still in the performance, I am fully aware of the
masquerade. I have breached the `nausea of intent,' and remain
outside of the drama. This is an anti-climatic play—it's purpose
simply void.

In this world I am alone, but I do not mind loneliness. For the
aspiring student, university is a `means to an end,' but for me it is
simply `an end.' I eat for survival first, and then for fun. To
survive, I feed my mind. Sometimes it even feels good. Here, at
university, I am centered within a smorgasbord of sustenance. I am a
creature of desire and satisfaction in a culture of excess.


Upon my return to CMU, after a gratifying summer bicycle trip, thus
began my first day of class. My classes were Cultural Anthropology,
Music Appreciation, Theories of Personality, and Existentialism. After
a week, however, I was back in the Personnel Office, updating my work
application. It had only been a year and half since I used to sit in
that office, waiting for employment, doing my homework. Once again I
told Terry, the director, that I wanted a job, and I would quit school
to get it. He knew I was serious. He said, "I'll see what I can do."