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Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Toys

Tim's midwinter present came in the mail on Monday, was waiting for us when I arrived back at my apartment yesterday, and was a great success. 216 spherical magnets called Buckyballs [not the same as the fullerene], which are solely for playing with. We sat on the floor for an hour, looking for stable configurations. Pentagons and cubes were very stable, long strands the most stable. [Buckyballs have two poles, just like a bar magnet.]

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

second semester

I am convinced there is nothing more horrifying and disillusioning than trying to decide on the area of study and expertise to occupy the rest of your professional life. Does anyone love any one subject well enough to devote most of their time and interest to studying it in minute detail, and putting it into mundane practice?

And then there is the nasty question of money.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Will there really be a morning?

Will there really be a "Morning"?
Is there such a thing as "Day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

O some Scholar! O some Sailor!
O some Wise Man from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called "Morning" lies!

- Emily Dickinson

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

I begin voicing my problems with post-modern literary theory

Nothing has made the act of writing seem so lethargic and difficult as my first semester of university English. I am, as I type, contemplating a faculty switch in order to complete my degree in Evolutionary Biology rather than literature. The problem is not with how I am being taught to write, but with what I am being taught about how to read.

My professor says that any interpretation of a work that can be convincingly argued for is equal to the interpretation the author intended when writing the work; the interpretation he geared all of his expertise and device and consideration toward producing for his reader. Dr. Olchowy is extremely fond of reminding her class of the demotions authors have received at the hands of the academy over the last thirty years. As a person who places priority on research-informed explanation and as a poet, I am frustrated and insulted.

Friday, December 11, 2009

10

Tim and I have been playing a game called 'Assign a number' on the bus, in the street, and in the hallways at school. When someone especially pretty or ugly passes by, we proclaim our ratings. On Saturday the toothless street woman was a double zero, the girl with skin like a peach and the sweetest looking decolletage was a ten.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

from The "Unfinished"

"picture a person who one day in a fit of idleness decides to make a pomander like the one that granny used to have around the house in old New England and so he takes an orange and sticks a lot of cloves in it and then he looks at it and realizes that he's killed the orange, his favorite which came from the Malay Archipelago and was even loved in Ancient China, and he quickly pulls out all the cloves, but its too late! Orange is lying bleeding in my hand!"

- Frank O'Hara

Thursday, November 26, 2009

... how stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge sorrows? Better I were distract,
So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs,
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose
The knowledge of themselves.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

SP/TH

Monday, in the English class which I hate, I was finally recognized as the resident expert on Sylvia Plath/Ted Hughes.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

will write

During this first semester of uni, I have written only two poems and a few scrawled journal entries, and a quack literary critique. It's been horrible. To remedy my practice habits, I'd like to write for an audience, and resume my habit of posting short pieces and ideas on this blog.

A Just-So Story

FOOL: The reason why the seven stars are no moe than seven is a pretty reason.

LEAR: Because they are not eight?

FOOL: Yes, indeed.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Ossis

Light is short and we begin to sleep
under X-ray aprons. During the day
we still examine our bones. I learn

I have my mother's femur, but
my pelvis is all mine.
You have been cheated out of some marrow,

but my lover's left ribs
are all accounted for. One night
I try to take one.

Under the blanket, under the lead,
two frames rest separately,
though the skins touch.

In the morning I can see
every chip and the missing sponge
that should make your walk towards us

unsteady this brittle winter.
But how you hold up. Two fists
knock knuckles together.

Monday, August 10, 2009

The Great Crash

"On his behalf it must be stressed that the device by which he sought to reduce his tax liability was far more common than now. The Senate investigations of 1933 and 1934 showed that tax avoidance had brought individuals of the highest respectability into extraordinary financial intercourse with their wives."