Michel Foucault

Sometime in May I was standing in front of a urinal when my jean's button popped out and landed on the urinal's porcelain bed. My hygienic conscience prevented me from picking it up, so I left it. In the succeeding months I have depended on my belt and zipper to keep my pants from falling. I've since appreciated buttons.

I'm not a school person. School is a place for me to be judged on my output, not because they affect anyone or change anything, but because of the expectation of my teacher. How could I appreciate the Archaeology of Knowledge if I don't understand its text? What's the point of diving into this piece of literature when it has no effect on my life?

O weekend. Please come quickly.