Mayakovsky

Mayakovsky

Real Talk.

Have you ever noticed that humans have made it so difficult and complicated to "survive" in this world? It's a vicious cycle. You go to school, and you try really hard, so that you can get into a good college, and then you try really hard at college to get a good job, and then you try really hard at your job, so you can make money. And then your kids do the same thing. And everyone just keeps on doing this and no one even stops to think WHY they're doing it any more. Everyone just does it because it's what you're supposed to do. And like, before, when the human race had just started, the goal was just to survive. People just lived. I mean, that's what really matters, right? Survival. Because after you die, it doesn't matter what college you went to.

"The great thing about poetry is that it is simply not ‘commodifiable.’ Materially speaking, it’s worthless in this culture. There’s very, very little money to be made from writing poetry. In that way, it’s subversive since anyone can steal it. Anyone can take it. Anyone can learn it by heart. Anyone can whisper it, can carry it into a jail, through borders, across all sorts of state lines. Poetry is that which can be carried anywhere. It’s invisible. And that makes it very, very precious in a culture where everything has a price. It still has a purity."
-- Marie Howe 

"The Crunch," Bukowski

people are crazy. subconsciously.

so powerful.

maybe.

One day, you're 10 and you're planning for someday. And then quietly, without ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life. 

Margaret Atwood is a genius. Her writing (commas on commas on commas) is inspiring. Writing like this keeps me grounded. Some may find this passage chilling or perhaps gruesome; however, it speaks to me. First of all, I think it takes a truly special and gifted person to even think this way. To think in a way to put the entire human race into perspective and compare them to such naive, mindless animals. I aspire to write this way one day. Read it. Appreciate it. Please.

on really romantic evenings of self, i go salsa dancing with my confusion.

simplicity at it's finest.

Reading Log April 30, May 7...ultimately the last one

So this is the reading log catching up for the two weeks that I did not complete one. The reason why I was not able to complete reading logs for those weeks are because I had AP tests and barely any books to read! But this weekend I read a collection of poetry by William Blake and I though that I'd share my opinions on the literature with you. I thought the poetry was a work of art. You know how sometimes you can just sit with someone and say nothing, but completely understand what they mean? Well, that's how I responded to Blake's literature. I thought that, although he lacked some simple grammar techniques and expansive vocabulary, his work was magnificent. He brought together so many different aspects of life, both the innocence and the experience, that humans just can't seem to understand. He brought together the reasons why life may suck at some points, along with the innocence and bitterness that life has in store for humans as they journey along. He showed the stages of growing old, the realizations, the epiphanies, the rotting of pleasure. I have gained immense respect for William Blake. What began as a research paper requirement for AP literature grew into a new-found passion for 19th century poetry.

Reading Log

I've finally finished Tina Fey's book this week. The novel was amazing and a true pleasure to read. Every second of reading was packed with humor and it was one of the first times that I did not feel like I wanted to put the book down. I felt myself wanting to read -- willingly picking the book up. Now, you have to understand, this is not too common for me. Nevertheless, I recommend the book to any of you who want a novel that will make you laugh out loud (a.k.a. LOL). My favorite part in the novel was her "Dear Internet" chapter, where she argues the points made online about her by unruly fans. "To say I'm an overrated troll, when you have never seen me guard a bridge, is patently unfair," Tina argues against one of her fans -- then thanks him for his attention and suggests that it would take a Hubble telescope to locate his tiny genitals. She concludes with "Affectionately, Tina."
What a classy lady. 

Prose Passage

White Noise - Don DeLillo

"Who will die first?
This question comes up from time to time, like where are the car keys. It ends in a sentence, prolongs a glance between us. I wonder if the thought itself is part of the nature of physical love, a reverse Darwinism that awards sadness and fear to the survivor. Or is it some inert element in the air we breathe, a rare thing like neon, with a melting point, an atomic weight? I held her in my arms on the cinder track. Kids came running our way, thirty girls in bright shorts, an improbable bobbing mass. The eager breathing, the overlapping rhythms of their footballs. Sometimes I think our love is inexperienced. The question of dying becomes a wise reminder. It cures us of our innocence of the future. Simple things are doomed, or is that a superstition?"

The daunting passage from White Noise by Don DeLillo confronts the question all humans inadvertently attempt to avoid: "when will I die?" Although Jack seems to be enjoying a perfectly good moment with his wife, Babette, his thoughts continue to circle around the question of "who will die first." Interestingly enough, the question is not uncommon; in fact, it "comes up from time to time, like where are the car keys." Despite the commonness of the inquiry, it contains the power to "prolong a glance" between the couple. Perhaps the question is a "part of the nature of physical love" and a form of "reverse Darwinism," bound to leave the other half empty and incomplete. Perhaps love has the power to make couples feel infinite -- forever young and "inexperienced" with the immense and daunting world. It seems that Jack and Babette create their own bubble, a personal universe, seemingly untouched and unaware of the innocence and youth of the "thirty girls in bright shorts" surrounding and "bobbling" around them. However, it is true -- "simple things are doomed" because life is not simple. Death takes no notice to the bond between lovers or family members, it takes what it can get and runs with it, simple or not. Perhaps the most important thing is to cherish those simple moments so that they remain a fond memory.

Poem

Piano

BY DAN HOWELL

Her wattled fingers can’t

stroke the keys with much

grace or assurance anymore,

and the tempo is always

rubato, halting, but still

that sound—notes quivering

and clear in their singularity,

filing down the hallway—

aches with pure intention, the

melody somehow prettier

as a remnant than

whatever it used to be.

Reading Log 4

So this past week I've been reading Tina Fey's hilarious novel, Bossypants. I really love how Fey's voice pierces through the page -- as if she could actually be sitting right next to me and chatting. The part of the book that I really love is that point at which she states that human curiosity often drives people over the edge. To back her generalized point up, she tells stories about people questioning the origin of her facial scar. Even though the scar is something so obvious, people are always trying to help her cover it up, when all she actually wants to do is embrace it. When they ask her how she got it, they expect a simple story, such as one involving some Leggos and an aggressive older brother. But no, that's not what happened. In fact, Fey's childhood was broken due to the traumatic experience. One day, walking home from school, a man attacked Fey and slashed her face. Although this experience is horrid and graphic, Fey shares it as if it is nothing -- just as a child recalls a lazy Sunday afternoon by the lake.

I am excited to continue reading!

i have all the souls i need

sunrise places its hand over night’s mouth, softly but firmly, saying hush now, it’s time to end—the mother telling the son that maybe he should take a deep breath.              
                                                                                 
flowers can speak, but they won’t. they’re far, far too bashful. at the dinner party, all flowers do is whisper to one another: you sure do look beautiful today, my love. i smile because if i listen closely enough, i can hear them...

grass is a fighter. he is yanked on and pulled apart, but just keeps coming back stronger. he is there for me when i am nervous on my first date, in the park, where he selflessly allows me to peel him away to occupy my shaking hands.

a tree is a writer at heart. the tree gives me shade and a piece of fruit and a pencil for me to dream up stories with and paper to be marked upon. the way a tree will always know what i need and the way a tree will always give it to me.

dirt waits and sees if i liked the movie first, before telling me if she did. i am raining, dirt will turn to mud for me.
i curse snow, but he stands his ground. i respect that. snow may be difficult, but he’s the one who gives me the nod of approval when i step onto him in my far too large galoshes instead of uggs like all the other girls.

as hard as she tries, rain will never be able to smile. the best i can do for her is dance with her and yell out to her “you are loved!”

i have all the souls i need and i couldn’t ask for them if i tried, because even the wildest imaginations cannot dream up the wonders souls like those possess.

 —Maggie Harry

Rest in peace. 

Notes 2 & 3

1. The lyrical, chronological account of the speaker's emotions in "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas ultimately create a sort of encouragement to prompt Death to lower its scythe. The poet contends that "wise men" must fight their impending death valiantly despite knowing death is inevitable; the "wise men" attempt to "rage against the dying of the light" in order to avoid Death's punishment. The "wise men" refuse to resign to their fates as dead men because they have not yet accomplished what they set out to do, endlessly striving to make their mark on the world unsatisfied with their subjectively "frail deeds." The metaphor "lightening" proves to represent the goals set forth by the strong sense of motivation that drives men to continue living robustly, only confirming the poet's "rage against the dying of the light." As the poem closes, it is evident that the poet's true message is directed for his father; he is unconcerned with what his father chooses to fight for or against, as long as he stands for something before he is extinguished. 

2. Vivid imagery, along with the shadowy embodiment of death presented in Donald Justice's poem, "Incident in a Rose Garden," underscore that humans have no way to predict when their life is ending, even though they use various factors in attempt. After a peaceful day of gardening, an "old man" runs to the speaker, driven solely by "fear"; the man claimed that he had "encountered Death...among the roses," "thin as a scythe" and cloaked in black. The old man claims that he "want[s] to see [his] sons/Once more before [he] die[s]" and ran off, leaving the speaker alone in the garden, awaiting Death "like a Spanish waiter." As the poem closes, and the speaker encounters Death himself, death announces that the "old man mistook [his] gesture," and that Death's purpose was to take the speaker with him. Due to the fact that the old man mistook Death's gesture, it is evident that humans cannot always predict what will occur in their lives, because much of it is controlled by outside forces.  Humans often view death as an enemy, however Death states that he "knew [his] father, And [they] were friends at the end," meaning that, by the time Death took the life of his father, the father knew him well enough as a friend. This goes to show that the way Death arrives cannot be predicted, left only as an afterthought as life continues forward. 

On Golden Pond

On Golden Pond is a story about an aging couple that spend each and every summer in their cottege on Golden Pond. They are visited by their daughter (Chelsea) whom they haven't seen in years, along with her soon-to-be husband and his young son. The film explores the relationship between Chelsea and her father as well as what can happen to a couple in the later years of marriage. 

The clip I have chosen is just one segment that relates to my theme particularly -- depicting the deterioration of the man's mental health, a sign of growing old.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pddzo1ZeAi4&feature=relmfu

3:09 - 4:25

(not the original version)

Reading Log 3

Over spring break, I finally finished Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns). It was nice to read a book that did not discuss such a heavy topic. Sometimes, books should be lighthearted and easy to read. Other times, it's good to have a book that makes you think and puts life into perspective. Now, I'm not saying that Mindy Kaling's book did not have any literary value -- do not misunderstand. Her book drew from personal experiences. Each experience contained something that I could relate to, which made things surreal. The "connection" between Kaling and I was fascinating for me because I love her character on The Office; I had no idea that someone so talented and funny could have a life similar to mine! Another aspect of the book that I enjoyed were the lists she made. I had never read a book that contained lists -- hers were detailed and long, but she managed to stay on topic throughout the list. Listing her ideas made the topics easier to read, practically categorizing her ideas into simple piles. I would definitely recommend this book to my friends -- in fact, I bought a copy and will be gifting it to one of my friends on her birthday. No doubt she'll love it.

How are you? Fine and you? It's not that we don't care, it's that we're terrified that someone will actually break down and tell us.

Exercise #3

Trends that I've been noticing are:

1. A hook, probably the most interesting aspect of the book or the main intriguing factor
2. A brief summary about the book, discussing main characters and even an insight into some of their day-to-day struggles -- seemingly reeling you into the book without giving away too much
3. A summary, what the book entails and provides for the reader, the last enticing thing that the writer can offer about the book itself.

Chomp -- Carl Hiaasen
The Fault in Our Stars -- John Green
BZRK -- Michael Grant

Reading Log 2

This week I've taken a break from the "soul-searching" type books and have picked up Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and other concerns). The book is very humorous and has factors that I can definitely relate to. I really appreciate Mindy Kaling's writing style and the diction she uses; the informal language seems to make the passage flow, making the chapters a breeze to read. I read only one poem to my dog this week, and it was the "Seven Ages of Man" by Shakespeare; however, I don't think I will be reading such sad poems to her because she seemed depressed once the poem was finished. Funny how we think that dogs can understand Shakespeare, even when they can't understand what you mean by "sit" or "roll over."

Note #1

By simply documenting the chronological account of a human's life, William Shakespeare's poem, "The Seven Ages of Man," employs broad, extended metaphors, underscoring his notions regarding life, destiny, and providence. Life  seems to be a game and "all the world's a stage," stressing that the world is but a global stage and "all the men and women are merely players." Corresponding to the infrastructure of a stage, the world has its own entrances and exits; every man in his full lifetime has many parts to play and those parts appear in seven ages. Initially, the infancy stage passes, followed by "the whining school-boy" who travels "unwillingly to school." Though the boy is endowed with a "shining morning face" and vigor of youth, he creeps along like a "snail," unaware of the blessings he is attributed with. Perhaps, at this stage, the schoolboy is frightened by the daunting idea of what the world holds in store for him and therefore, remains reluctant to move out of his protective shell. Next is the lover, "sighing like furnace," so obsessed with love that he fails to see anything beyond that, burning with the effervescent emotion of love. Subsequently, a soldier "full of strange oaths," prepared to take the world by storm, impulsive in expressions and instinctive in emotions. Then the stage containing the comfortable middle-aged human, "full of wise saws and modern instances;" consequentially, the sixth stage approaches, beginning with frailty and resulting in a "world too wide." The "last scene of all" leaves a person "sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything," underlining the notion that humans fade into mere oblivion, detached from society.