there are certain moments where i wish someone was narrating my life in comic-strip form.
in the car with my cousin william, age 2:
w: (pointing ahead at a road sign) look cass, we're almost to there!
c: (looks) yeah, we are!
w: yes. (waits, car reaches the sign) look! we made it to here!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
theses schmeses
it seems that on every academic paper i've written, my teacher/professor will write, "good ideas, but thesis is unclear." today i got an art history paper back. guess what it said?
i'll admit that i can be little over the top. comparing a work by diane arbus to a work by rembrandt, discussing changes in the function of portraiture, relating it all to theories by herbert read and walter benjamin--relating trout fishing in america to walden, song of myself, and emerson's essays, while discussing romantic elements in postmodern literature, listing even more authors--comparing the scarlet letter to donnie darko (my crowning achievement in high school)--i want to do too many things in one paper.
yet--i try to be as concise as possible. i can't write long papers. so i use as few words as i can and end up being vague.
then, of course, i assume that everyone else in the world follows my same train of thought, so i probably don't explain things as much as i should.
someone recently told me he didn't "get" me. which sounded ridiculous at the time, because what is there to get? now i'm beginning to sympathize, though. i naturally assume that most people think the way i do--i don't have to say anything for someone to understand what i'm thinking or feeling. the papers i write are a lot like the conversations i carry. people have to work to figure out what i'm trying to say.
i'll admit that i can be little over the top. comparing a work by diane arbus to a work by rembrandt, discussing changes in the function of portraiture, relating it all to theories by herbert read and walter benjamin--relating trout fishing in america to walden, song of myself, and emerson's essays, while discussing romantic elements in postmodern literature, listing even more authors--comparing the scarlet letter to donnie darko (my crowning achievement in high school)--i want to do too many things in one paper.
yet--i try to be as concise as possible. i can't write long papers. so i use as few words as i can and end up being vague.
then, of course, i assume that everyone else in the world follows my same train of thought, so i probably don't explain things as much as i should.
someone recently told me he didn't "get" me. which sounded ridiculous at the time, because what is there to get? now i'm beginning to sympathize, though. i naturally assume that most people think the way i do--i don't have to say anything for someone to understand what i'm thinking or feeling. the papers i write are a lot like the conversations i carry. people have to work to figure out what i'm trying to say.
Friday, April 10, 2009
on april, and, on why i am not a poet
designating months to celebrate things is a little silly, but it gets especially silly in april, because it is:
1. national humor month
2. national anxiety month
3. national poetry month
i can dig it, though. typically, i get more anxious in spring than in any other season. april 1st is april fool's day. poets are all over springtime. so it makes sense for these three things to get smooshed together.
yesterday another cassie remarked that no one reads poetry and no one buys poetry, even during national poetry month. this is true. a professor told me once--and i'm paraphrasing--that choosing to be a poet is one of the dumbest things you could ever do to yourself. and there aren't many poets out there, if you think about it. william carlos williams was a doctor. frank o'hara was an art critic and museum curator. these are people who wrote poetry. i write poetry sometimes, and sometimes people like it. but i am certainly not a poet.
even ginsberg held down a few jobs before "howl" really took off, and afterward he was still doing a lot more than writing. what makes ginsberg a poet, though, is that he really lived poetry, more than anyone else. when you listen to him talk it's like a poem. it doesn't matter what he's saying. this is why he wrote about anything and everything and still turned out perfect:
"Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters"
Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof
out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross
surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers
'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking
your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn.
I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus.
O Thought! Now you'll have to think the same thing forever!
New York, June 7, 1980, 6:48 A.M
it boggles my mind. this is why i am not a poet.
1. national humor month
2. national anxiety month
3. national poetry month
i can dig it, though. typically, i get more anxious in spring than in any other season. april 1st is april fool's day. poets are all over springtime. so it makes sense for these three things to get smooshed together.
yesterday another cassie remarked that no one reads poetry and no one buys poetry, even during national poetry month. this is true. a professor told me once--and i'm paraphrasing--that choosing to be a poet is one of the dumbest things you could ever do to yourself. and there aren't many poets out there, if you think about it. william carlos williams was a doctor. frank o'hara was an art critic and museum curator. these are people who wrote poetry. i write poetry sometimes, and sometimes people like it. but i am certainly not a poet.
even ginsberg held down a few jobs before "howl" really took off, and afterward he was still doing a lot more than writing. what makes ginsberg a poet, though, is that he really lived poetry, more than anyone else. when you listen to him talk it's like a poem. it doesn't matter what he's saying. this is why he wrote about anything and everything and still turned out perfect:
"Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters"
Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof
out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross
surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers
'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking
your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn.
I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus.
O Thought! Now you'll have to think the same thing forever!
New York, June 7, 1980, 6:48 A.M
it boggles my mind. this is why i am not a poet.
Friday, April 3, 2009
cravings
does anyone else get sound cravings? i don't mean something like, "man, i really want to listen to marquee moon right now." i mean, "i need to hear a poor-quality drum machine right this second."
it overwhelms me, and actually, it is overwhelming me now, this craving for a bad drum machine. and nothing is satisfying it. le tigre's first album is okay but it doesn't quite cut it, although it does satisfy my constant need for girl band vocals.
then, strangely enough, something that does not involve a truly awful drum machine is just what i've been waiting to hear.
oh gary numan, you and your magic synths, and your ridiculous music videos. thank you.
it overwhelms me, and actually, it is overwhelming me now, this craving for a bad drum machine. and nothing is satisfying it. le tigre's first album is okay but it doesn't quite cut it, although it does satisfy my constant need for girl band vocals.
then, strangely enough, something that does not involve a truly awful drum machine is just what i've been waiting to hear.
oh gary numan, you and your magic synths, and your ridiculous music videos. thank you.
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