In high school, I was part of everything. My name that is. I registered for many, many clubs: just never showed up. In college, I didn't only join a ton of clubs, I also showed up a lot. Even when I was so uncomfortable and didn't want to be there. For instance, the first thing I joined was the school newspaper. I wanted to be like Elizabeth Wakefield from Sweet Valley High. Don't ask. I soon realized that my mates at the newspaper typed like crazy, and they like knew stuff that I hadn't even smelled. While it took me a minute to search for letters on the keyboard to write a word, they would be on their third paragraph or so. Man. I was so shy and so embarrassed. I didn't know how to use Photoshop or inDesign back then, I was always on the verge of tears since I was a 'Layout Designer.' When I couldn't torture myself anymore I disappeared. I did stay for two semesters, though. The literary club I tried to join in Grad school brought back memories of my experience with my college newspaper. It was like there is this language and everyone in our little group understood but me. I wanted to say "Wait? Wait? What? Huh?" Then I thought man! Maybe grad school will be where I don't bother. My excuse is Brooklyn is too far away from Queens. The truth is I'm sadly not very interested.
By day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair:
But all night as the moon so changeth she;
Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy
And subtle serpents gliding in her hair.
By day she wooes me to the outer air,
Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety:
But through the night, a beast she grins at me,
A very monster void of love and prayer.
By day she stands a lie: by night she stands
In all the naked horror of the truth
With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands.
Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell
My soul to her, give her my life and youth,
Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?
Christina Rossetti’s "The World" is one of extremes. A heaven seeming hell occurring within spheres of light and darkness. Read one way, “The World” holds light as liar and night as truthful. Often, light is used as medium of truth and darkness that of falsehood and although the poem seems to be doing the opposite, when a…
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
There has been a little conversation between myself and Edna St. Vincent Millay’s speaker in “Second Fig” for months now. Sometimes I would forget to think or talk to her for days or even weeks, then run into her riding the shades of a slow afternoon or merging with the shadows of an eerie night. Most recently, though, I have been finding her lisping within conversations shared with others and reading her on pages here and there. The thing is, often, in polite society, we speak only of our minor headaches in such ways that arouse neither genuine pity nor concern for our wellbeing but shine a dim light on our shared struggles in the search of infinite satiation. And this is why the lines of “Second Fig” are irritating––they are shamelessly honest. They can even be called coarse in that they seem to mock and brag simultaneously without apology. T…
Let's do music today. First things first, Pharrell Williams is hot. Now that that is over with, onward to less important things; a review of his new music, "Freedom." I cannot get enough of it...at least for now. "Happy" introduced me to Williams. Prior to that song I cannot recall knowing of him. The dude is smart. I thought "Happy," might have been a coincidence but now I know it is not. He knows his audience and serves them well by delivering melodic chants of the things we all desire and strive for. Who does not want to be happy or free? See, dude is cool and that is why his new song is on reeeeepeat!
The lyrics are beautifully spiked with poetry. I have copied the whole thing for you below. As mentioned above, the song has been on repeat and as I was being swayed by the wonderful beats and chants of "Freedom,"––head nodding and bobbing; hands shooting into the air; feet tapping tapping tapping away––I could not help but wonder what fr…