Monday, Nov. 18, 2002, 2:45 AM

Bashing academia

And tonight, this morning, now, I am alive. I know that I can say that anytime that I can say that, and I just have. I sit here, with this machine on my lap transcribing patterns of chemical and electrical signals in my noggin into words through the stimulus response actions of my finger muscles being zapped by my brain. All this metaphysical bullshit is all just mental masturbation. The truth is that I am listening to a song about pink robots and a young Japanese girl and reflecting on something that my favorite English professor in college told me. He said, "Greg, all humanities majors are just ships floating on the sea without direction, and eventually we all marry, because in the end we need a rudder." Perhaps, but what does one do when he has found direction and then lost his rudder? I suppose he just writes poetry.

Semantic antics and caffeine hold the world of academia together and in check
Never knowing the ease with which the sleaze could infiltrate and break
That which binds the young minds to forgotten tomes of poems
And enlightens the prospectuses of executives

Why should I lament the knowledge of the college that serves to abolish
The earnings from my churning in the sector of manufacturing
When the education I have learned has been earned with the punch of a clock
And not with tenured edits for credits

My debt will soon be paid and lemonade will be made from the lemons of life
And the course that has been followed will be swallowed by uncertainty
When I bring out the sextant being expectant of the appearance of stars
A beacon with which I can divine a line home

And thus the journey begins as it must end
With conviction and fear and doubt about the destination
But in the doing I will be pursuing that which matters
And that will be to be wherever it is that I go, for there I am, reborn a man.