Preparation For Exam I

"In my beginning is my end. In succession / Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, / Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place / Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass." The first three lines of East Coker. As we were going over the material for this first exam, I became aware that I'm really getting familiar with the Four Quartets. I knew what the beginning of Dry Salvages, when the Dr. asked us to recite it. And I still am obsessed with Little Gidding, its talk of summer, nature, fire, and purpose and exploration are intriguing to me. I want to keep reading, it over and over again, until makes sense, or maybe until it makes no sense at all, anyway, I love reading it because it keeps me in the now. I had no idea this class who effect me so, I feel like I'm uncovering new things everyday, in literature, and my mind. Emergent Lit is my Wonderland, and I feel so many fantastic colors, now, but I hope I will feel them forever, and the only way that will happen is if I never let reading and writing leave my life.

Unnamable The

"This is to say I have to go on." Beckett reveals himself here and tells me the meaning, or attempted meaning, of what he just wrote. He knows that he must go on, but there is a sense of anxiety at this claim, almost as if to ask, what does it matter? I'm starting to see this appeal to Beckett's style, it almost as if you're watching a play being performed in front of you, and you try jump on the stage and tear off the actors masks and costumes, and rip down to props and backdrop, to see what is truly being said. Beckett, as I understand, is trying to communicate this idea to us through the formulation or lack of formulation of a plot, characters, and action, and as a result tells the story of the process of writing. "There are no days here, but I use the expression." This whole chapter so far has been nothing but expressions, phrases trying to capture the essence of other phrases. "No, all is not clear. But the discourse must go on." I feel the need to not repeat myself, refer above. Actually I'll give a bit of commentary. This to me is an expression of the limitlessness or writing that leads to great anxieties as the writer sifts through the great sea of stories. Knowing ultimately he will not succeed, but presses on anyway.

The Impossibility Of

Writing is it really, impossible? I've often thought about writing, but not to this extent. Writers like Beckett have told me that anything can be made up, and therefore nothing is real, but we should keep trying to find ourselves in our writing, because its the process that is important. In a small nut shell. One aspect of the impossibility of writing that I've come to know in my own trails in the field, is the limitless of it all. There is so much to write about, it is simply daunting to try and write about it all. When I'm writing something I find there are some many paths to travel down as you write, you simply cannot choose them all, hence the roads you do choose, and even the ones you don't choose, will ultimately determine how you solved to attempt to put an end to the limitlessness of this thing called writing, because it was as you saw it, and as you choose to write about it.

Furthur With Dr.Sexon

Emergent Literature is changing me, I've noticed and I believe I have come up with the perfect analogy in which I will be able to articulate how this change has been manifesting itself. Professor Sexson, is Ken Kesey, we are the Merry Pranksters, and Emergent Lit is the 1939 International Harvester bus. Sexson gives us an idea, a concept, a hit if you will. He wants to open our minds let us experience things in literature we have never thought about before. This discussion of high brow and low brow literature has opened my mind, and reading and writing will never be the same. Sometimes after I leave class I feel overwhelmed with want I've experienced, I try to think about everything he has taught us and literally feels as though my head will explode. There is too much to even try to pin down. But what makes me feel better is to look at one thing at a time, one genre, one text, one page, one line, one word, and determine what I know it now means. I see things for what they really are now, and how it all works. I feel changed from taking this class, I feel as though Professor Sexson has opened my mind to the joys and anxieties of literature and I will never be the same again. I'm on the bus learning from him as we go furthur and furthur, and I love every minute of it.

Where's Beckett?

Although I found the Molloy reading to be somewhat tedious at first I kept on reading looking for some trace of Beckett's authorship in the text. I like how he uses a kind of stream of consciousness to push the story forward. It to me seems energetic and authentic in a way. The following are five places in the text in which I felt I could sense the fictional characteristics of the novel. 1.) "This explanation subsequently turned out to be the correct one. But I added..." Beckett tells us what he is writing but, let's his characters go uninformed. 2.) "I shall not describe our attitudes, characteristic his of him, mine of me." I think Beckett means he will not describe these things to the reader. 3.)"To look at them he would have to hide from his father" Right before this Moran refers to him self in the first person, here I think Beckett is letting us know this is what it would be like, if this were a real story. 4.)"And saying many other things besides, belonging to separate and apparently unconnected trains of thought" The word apparently here got me thinking is this Moran's thoughts about his thoughts as Beckett writes them, and I said yes it is. 5.)"I could have made myself a pillow of the bags, but I did not, it did not occur to me." Where some might see this as a reflection of the narrator, I see Beckett telling us he did not want Moran to have that thought, so he didn't. I found the task of reading this whole novel in one sitting to be a far too tremendous and anxiety educing task, but so far so good, I might even think it's so nice, I'll read it twice.

Occurance in Emergent Lit

Given that the current theme of the class is the twenty minute lifetime, was reminded of a story I read way back in high school. Although the professor mentioned this in class earlier it had already been brewing in my mind. What takes literally an instant, the rope to get tight, the man experiences days and days of traveling home. Although he did not live a life in that moment I think the same demons are at play here. Having great experiences in an instant. While I'm blogging I might as well blog about the emergence of high brow lit at my place with my roommates. I felt so moved by the line I found in Little Gidding that I had to put it on the white board on the fridge. It being a high traffic area, I hinted that someone should read it. After on of my mates stared at the white board for a minute, he gave me a puzzled look. "Well, I can tell its deep, but I just don't get it, I'll have to read it over again." "And again", I said. And that's the point of high brow, is it not.

A Little Gidding

I opened my copy of The Four Quartets today looking for something that would relate to the next theme in the class. I went through the book aimlessly reading passages where ever my eyes drifted to. Upon opening to Little Gidding I loved the way Eliot talked about how, "Midwinter Spring is its own season." To me he seemed to be advocating that there is a lifetime of experiences and happenings in this moment. At first I began to attribute this to the first theme, in the way he discussed to the cyclical nature of this unique time and place. Then I came to a line that read, "...And what you thought you came for / Is only a shell, a husk of meaning / From which the purpose breaks only when it is fulfilled / If at all. Either you had no purpose / Or the purpose is beyond the end you figured / And is altered in fulfillment." Does this mean we may never know why we do things, or if we do sometimes things change, and if they do change we should still try to give it significance, because in the end that's what we were supposed to do anyway, we just didn't see it at the time, but that's life right, just keep on pushing for what you desire, and then things will happen, some good some bad, but you learn every step of the way, and keep fightin'. I think so. It made me think about, "The Inner Light" where Picard tries to find what the meaning of his life as captain, but at that point in time he was supposed to be Kamin, in order to remember these people, so they would exist in his mind. The twenty minute lifetime has its own purpose, even if we do not understand why at the time.

List of Things, Cause Thats All They Are

Above my door frame as you enter my room is a broken drum stick that reminds me of the band I used to be in until we broke up. Under the light switch is the paper liner of a package of guitar strings, Ernie Ball, Beefy Slinky gauge, and underneath that is part of a Rockin' Rudy's bag I cut out after I visited the store in March. Next to these items are two posters to remind me of my punk rock phase, Green Day and Weezer. Next to that is the poster of a concert that took place in Billings two winters ago, Frostbite, and under that is the 2005 poster for the annual Magic City Blues Fest in Billings. Over my closet door is yet another broken drum stick and on the next space of wall is more posters and memorabilia. First is the poster I got when I saw the Who in Salt Lake City, ten bucks, under that is a poster for a concert I went to in high school, it was fundraiser for the speech and debate team featuring a Irish punk band from Oregon called Amadan which means idiot in Celtic. Then there is my annual Christmas gift from my Grandfather, a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit calendar, surrounded by the 2004 and 2003 Magic City Blues Posters. Now on the East wall I see a pin up girl with a yarn wool hat super glued on her head, a goofy gift from my Aunt two years ago, another Magic City Blues poster this one from 2006, a psychedelic Jimi Hendrix poster, a poster featuring the main piano chords and a Frisbee, a white board featuring song lyrics containing the word "high", and another liner of Ernie Ball strings, this one acoustic, hanging from the curtain rod are four stuffed boys from South Park I got out of a claw machine in New Jersey, Stan, Kyle, Eric, and Kenny.

List of Finnegan

Lists. There are many forms many kinds many styles many purposes, really there could be a long list on the various types of lists there are. But when I was flipping through Finnegans Wake I found the list that Leubner had discussed with us. It starts on 104 and goes 'til 107. "Her untitled mamafesta memorialising the Mosthighest has gone by many names at disjointed times. Thus we hear of, The Augusta Angustissimost for Old Seabeastius'..." Her untitled manifesto memorializing the most highest has gone by many names at disjointed times. A list about lists. Each item on the list seems to be a satire or ridiculous jumble of words, but I think there is more here maybe. Here are a few of my favorites of the list in a list. Of the Two Ways of Opening the Mouth, Cowpoyride by Twelve Acre Terriss in the Unique Estates of Amessican, Lumptytumtumpty had a Big Fall, The Mimic of Meg Neg and the Mackeys, L.S.D.

Being Bill

After we watched the segments from Groundhog's Day, I left class feeling a bit strange due to Dr. Sexson's advice, I believe. I wanted to try to remember everything that was happening but, after about two minutes of trying to remember the morning, I decided to give up and try to be selfless and live this day for others. Perhaps it is coincidence, but on Sunday night I extracted my father's dog, Bo, from a potentially bad situation. See Bo had had an accident in the house I knew my father would not treat him with the love he deserves that night so, I took him home with me. All day Monday I thought of Bo, I visited him between classes and took him to the dog park. In a way I was like Bill Murray's character in that I lived that day for Bo. I love that dog. Wouldn't trade him for anything.