Pass the Bill
The climate in Liberty was getting more and more extreme, otherworldly, and ripe for change. I really needed things to change at this point. I knew eventually the tide of politics would turn against me on campus, so I had to act quickly. My work on “Contesting Admission” went into high gear. I worked endlessly and relentlessly on the manuscript. The paper was my last hope at overturning the admission decision and moving forward with my education.
I was running out of money, supplies, gasoline, and everything needed to carry on affairs independently and living as a non-matriculated graduate student with no funding or plan. I knew if I didn’t mobilize everything I had left, for one last fulcrum to launch my education forward, I would be in serious distress. It was time to rally everyone left in my corner—the doctoral guard, and whatever family or friends still believed in me—to carry on as a student in New London.
I began sending the manuscript out to friends, family, and anyone who would read it. Most people didn’t respond to my emails and inquiries about the paper. This was my bill. This was my own modern-day regency bill for the English department at New London. Once published, the bill would provide and justify my admission to the graduate program.
Throughout the paper, meta-power, the word I dispensed to alter and change the course of events at the college, would enter into language itself at the university and change the course of meaning-making in the academy forever.
The bill was circulated far and wide. I sent the bill out in emails, with the subject line “Pass the Bill,” with the paper attached to everyone in my network. Convinced I was at the precipice of a new era, I was generally excited and happy to experience the momentum and shift from deployment of my new word into university affairs— specifically, the English department. Not getting anywhere with the bill’s passage, or confirmation of its acceptance into a literary journal, I looked for answers elsewhere.