(Actually, maybe it was: ‘Remember me? I’m the world coming out your baby’s eyes.’ Or: ‘I’m the world coming at you, baby, live.’ Still mondegreens, though, I’m sure.)
I downloaded a .pdf of the Eugene Lang College course schedule and was perusing it nostalgically this morning.
Those of us who attended in the early 90s all derided the place for admitting any refugee of some other liberal arts school that just happened to want to live in New York (lots of us were transfer students), but looking back, there were a lot of fiercely talented people there at the time. Ani DiFranco, for instance, and Borzou Daragahi, nominated for a Pulitzer for his reporting in Iraq.
My art would be a lot different if it weren’t for the influence of Sekou Sundiata, who taught a poetry course called The Shape and Nature of Things to Come. Along with other courses by Peter Wallace, Suzan-Lori Parks, and Kurtis Lamkin.
Many of bitched about Lang’s second-classedness while sniffing heroin in the rear smoking lounge of the cafeteria. (Not Ani or Borzou, I hasten to add)
I recommend Lang, but do not recommend sniffing heroin.
I read the course catalog and fantasized about taking a year off from the touring/recording/promoting cycle and teaching songwriting at some liberal arts school located in some bucolic someplace somewhere.