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what a horrid dream i had last night. went to do some business at columbia. the secretary told me in an off-hand way: they couldn’t give me my diploma till i took the last exam. a take-home it was, and i didn’t recognize the passages, except for one,

molière . . . or maybe marivaux.

but the names were somehow based on phèdre. i decided anyway that this might be okay. theater. familiar territory. then i forgot, didn’t get to work, until it would be due the next morning. had to be turned in to the office before noon. i panicked a bit, then settled down, began to write—contrast and parse the language in the first réplique. but then i really lost my bearings.

i started to consider other passages, and...

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