I must say the whole conference is a blur at this point, except for the three day routine that went exactly like this: up ass early; coffee shop for wireless access; shower and oatmeal back at the apartment; travel to conference by whatever means; a jumble of panels and meetings and one-on-one appointments, followed swiftly and noisily by a glut of parties, so many sharply-dressed bodies crammed into windowless rooms. Highlights, for me, included hanging with roomie Blake, smashing performances by my graduate students, a seven-mile saturday morning bike trek from boystown to the chicago hilton, (relatedly) a presentation on mysticism delivered from the midst of an amazing endorphin high, and night-time galavanting with the beautiful and brilliant Queens of NCA.
