| Geek Love-Reaction #2 |
[Apr. 3rd, 2006|01:00 am] |
|
After watching the movie “Freaks”, it is very evident that many of themes present in the film are prevalent in Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love. For instance, Phroso and Venus are part of the carnival/circus act but they are norms. They have no physical abnormalities, but they are accepted by the unacceptable; Simply for their genuine love of the “freaks”. There is a scene where Phroso has a monologue in the presence of Venus when she laughs at him, he says something to the effect of being nothing more than a funny clown but he was content with that. He is content with making people genuinely laugh at his wit and comedic ability. He is “one of them”; not for the fact that he has physical abnormalities but he is content with using his god-given “gifts” to entertain those who ask to be entertained. In the book, as in the movie, it’s not the sideshow participants who are at a loss with the world, but it is the norms. Olympia thinks of herself as unlucky because her physical deformities are not extreme enough to draw a paying crowd but she is still accepted. Geek Love is a so-called controversial book because it calls on the reader to question themselves. We think of these people as abnormal and freakish but who is it that determines the definition of normal. In Freaks, the norms don’t accept the freaks. Cleopatra and Hercules take advantage of Hans in order to inherit his fortune. The norms turn out to be deformed in character not the freaks. I think it was a good choice to show “Freaks” because it heightened my enjoyment and understanding of the themes in Katherine Dunn’s “Geek Love”. To digress for a moment, I got a chance to visit the Body World's exhibit at the Franklin Institute where they took human abnormalities and plastinize them in order to preserve the freakdom. It's a cool think to check out if you get a chance. |
|
|
| Geek Love |
[Mar. 26th, 2006|05:38 pm] |
|
I think that it’s safe to say that you either hate Geek Love or you love it. I am on the verge of loving it I think. While reading it, I feel like it triggers so many different emotions such as anger and disgust, but at the same time I almost feel a bit sympathetic and upset in a way, but entertained nonetheless. I can see why people are repulsed by this story despite the fact that I find it entertaining. The fact that Crystal Lil is determined to create these human oddities intentionally by ingesting drugs, pesticides, and radioisotopes is kind of repulsing in itself but I think I enjoy the story because these people are so strange and different but they seem to have a lot of the same problems of a normal family. The jarred experiments in the Hall of Horrors made me a little sick when I was reading about it but I have always been extremely fascinated by the people that travel with carnivals and circuses. The one character that I really hate is Miss Lick. She reminds all of the females that their deformities are some sort of privilege because they are liberated from the confines of beauty that enslaves them to men. She’s a pretty sick, feminist and she doesn’t seem like she cares about anyone’s individual needs. This story becomes less about appearance and overall about the ugly side of human behavior and emotions. I think that the message that the story delivers is an urgent one and I am extremely excited to finish it. |
|
|
| Assignment #3: The Identity of “V” and the use of the Letter |
[Mar. 24th, 2006|04:05 am] |
V does not simply stand for rebellion and rebellion alone. He may look like Fawkes, but he represents a greater purpose. To understand that; simply take a look at his name. It's not even a name at all; it's a letter. Its meaning and purpose changes depending on the context it's used in; it is, in every sense of the phrase, a place to start. Moore reminds us of this fact with the extensive use of wordplay found in his novel. Even the novel's title, V for Vendetta is a play on words; it's a twist on the famous World War II slogan, "V” for victory". Every chapter title in the novel also begins with the letter "V".
The end result is the most obvious: V stands for many things. “V” stands for variable. When V first introduced himself to Evey, he calls himself a villain. “V” can also stand for villain. The description is very appropriate, considering that “V” stands for the direct opposite of everything Norsefire represents. He is their enemy, and he knows this is his role, as Guy Fawkes was the villain in the eyes of King James and Protestant Church.
V also stands for the number five. At Larkhill, he was kept in the fifth room, labeled with the Roman numeral for five. “V” adopts the symbol and pays respect to the forces that made him who he is. “V” then becomes symbolic of all the people who were imprisoned and tortured by oppressors. “V” also stands for victim. By using his room number, V is a living symbol of all the casualties of Norsefire's genocide. “V” also could stand for Valerie. We find out that Valerie’s letter morphs V from the person he was to the person that he is now. Beyond V's goals of rebellion, he also reminds the people about their identity and self-worth. He reminds them that they still have the freedom to be who they want to be despite the confines and restrictions of the society that they live in.
“V” represents many ideas but, in retrospect, he becomes a force and an instrument. He becomes his own instrument of reformation through which he takes all of his beliefs and ideas ideas and puts them into action. In the process of doing so, he is able to extract his vengeance, pursue his vendettas, preach his values, and as a result, his ultimate vision is vindicated.
Evey becomes V at the end of the story. “V” stands for Evey or E.V. The original “V” can only succeed to a certain degree while representing his ideas and beliefs. Once he succeeds in overthrowing the government, his purpose has been achieved, and ultimately he chooses to die. He could have survived but it was a choice to do so because his purpose had been achieved. Evey steps in, picking up where V left off. Evey takes on V’s mask just as “V” took on the face of Guy Fawkes, and in doing so, creates an entirely new set of ideas and values just as “V” had done with Fawkes. "I will not lead them. But I'll help them build. Help them create where I'll not help them kill. The age of killers is no more" (260). The first V was a murderer, a destroyer, and a martyr, both literally and figuratively. Evey will be a builder and a teacher, paving a new road for society to travel upon. Evey stems from the root “Eve”. Directly tanslated in Hebrew, this name means “life”. “V” is dead, the government that he sought to destroy has collapsed, and so are the officials that were in power. Evey breathes life back into the lungs of society. She will rebuild in the image of “V”.
V’s identity is best left as a mystery. Evey says it best: "If I take off that mask, something will go away forever, be diminished, because whoever you are isn't as big as the idea of you" (250). Basically, placing the words to the face is irrelevant, but the effects of his words and actions are the driving force behind revolution.
http://www.bonefire.org/guy/gunpowder.php
A little extra reading on the gunpowder plot for those interested. |
|
|
| The Identity of “V” and the use of the Letter |
[Mar. 24th, 2006|04:03 am] |
V does not simply stand for rebellion and rebellion alone. He may look like Fawkes, but he represents a greater purpose. To understand that; simply take a look at his name. It's not even a name at all; it's a letter. Its meaning and purpose changes depending on the context it's used in; it is, in every sense of the phrase, a place to start. Moore reminds us of this fact with the extensive use of wordplay found in his novel. Even the novel's title, V for Vendetta is a play on words; it's a twist on the famous World War II slogan, "V” for victory". Every chapter title in the novel also begins with the letter "V".
The end result is the most obvious: V stands for many things. “V” stands for variable. When V first introduced himself to Evey, he calls himself a villain. “V” can also stand for villain. The description is very appropriate, considering that “V” stands for the direct opposite of everything Norsefire represents. He is their enemy, and he knows this is his role, as Guy Fawkes was the villain in the eyes of King James and Protestant Church.
V also stands for the number five. At Larkhill, he was kept in the fifth room, labeled with the Roman numeral for five. “V” adopts the symbol and pays respect to the forces that made him who he is. “V” then becomes symbolic of all the people who were imprisoned and tortured by oppressors. “V” also stands for victim. By using his room number, V is a living symbol of all the casualties of Norsefire's genocide. “V” also could stand for Valerie. We find out that Valerie’s letter morphs V from the person he was to the person that he is now. Beyond V's goals of rebellion, he also reminds the people about their identity and self-worth. He reminds them that they still have the freedom to be who they want to be despite the confines and restrictions of the society that they live in.
“V” represents many ideas but, in retrospect, he becomes a force and an instrument. He becomes his own instrument of reformation through which he takes all of his beliefs and ideas ideas and puts them into action. In the process of doing so, he is able to extract his vengeance, pursue his vendettas, preach his values, and as a result, his ultimate vision is vindicated.
Evey becomes V at the end of the story. “V” stands for Evey or E.V. The original “V” can only succeed to a certain degree while representing his ideas and beliefs. Once he succeeds in overthrowing the government, his purpose has been achieved, and ultimately he chooses to die. He could have survived but it was a choice to do so because his purpose had been achieved. Evey steps in, picking up where V left off. Evey takes on V’s mask just as “V” took on the face of Guy Fawkes, and in doing so, creates an entirely new set of ideas and values just as “V” had done with Fawkes. "I will not lead them. But I'll help them build. Help them create where I'll not help them kill. The age of killers is no more" (260). The first V was a murderer, a destroyer, and a martyr, both literally and figuratively. Evey will be a builder and a teacher, paving a new road for society to travel upon. Evey stems from the root “Eve”. Directly tanslated in Hebrew, this name means “life”. “V” is dead, the government that he sought to destroy has collapsed, and so are the officials that were in power. Evey breathes life back into the lungs of society. She will rebuild in the image of “V”.
V’s identity is best left as a mystery. Evey says it best: "If I take off that mask, something will go away forever, be diminished, because whoever you are isn't as big as the idea of you" (250). Basically, placing the words to the face is irrelevant, but the effects of his words and actions are the driving force behind revolution.
http://www.bonefire.org/guy/gunpowder.php
A little extra reading on the gunpowder plot for those interested. |
|
|
| Response to the finale of “V For Vendetta” |
[Mar. 19th, 2006|11:25 pm] |
|
Some say that “V For Vendetta” is simply a comic but the themes are rooted a bit deeper than those of a comic book. It is a story about freedom and identity and the responsibilities that go along with them. We never find out who “V” is at the end of the story and this is an important choice made by the author. After all, if we found out who he is, we would lose the meaning of the story in its entirety. The general essence of “v” stands for a variety of beliefs and ideas, therefore “V” stands for variable. “V” could stand for villain in the sense that “V” is an enemy of the fascist government that has control over England. In the beginning of the novel he introduces himself as a villain. We find out that “V” was a prisoner at Larkhill and he was in the fifth cell, Roman numeral V. “V” also becomes symbolic of the word victim. He is a victim of his fascist government that conducts testing on the population along with oppressing the entire nation. By taking on the title “v”, he becomes a living, breathing symbol of all of the victims of the genocide. By the end of the story, “V” becomes more than a collection of beliefs and ideas, but he becomes an outlet for the very ideas that he stands for to be taken into action. It is him who makes the radical rebellion possible, and this is why the story ends the way it does with Evey taking on the work of “V”. |
|
|
| Response to first reading of “V For Vendetta” |
[Mar. 9th, 2006|06:55 pm] |
|
Being a huge fan of graphic novels, I never really bothered to pick up this one in particular. I was always a fan of the novels that lean closer to comics such as Batman and Iron Man, but I am pleasantly surprised with “V For Vendetta.” Aside from the witty lines and the dark imagery, there are so many intelligent undertones to this graphic novel. First of all, reading it is amazing although it is hard at times. There is so much going on within the comic that it is hard to grasp some things and easy to miss others. It is very similar to reading an entire film with the lines and shots but as still photographs rather than a motion picture. V For Vendetta is a very “punk rock” graphic novel in the sense that it does have undertones of living in a police type state, and anarchy is another major player. The imagery is very dark which is matched up with the novel’s visual darkness. Many of the illustrations are very dark, usually green, blue and black, and when they are not, they are usually the color of fire as a result of explosions. The lines within the novel are sometimes hard to read as well because you have a switch between dialogue of more than one character rand little captions of narration, but it is entertaining none the less. And anyway, that is the same with any comic. At this point, I am about finished with the third book, and can’t wait to finish the other two. Hopefully before the movie premiers. |
|
|
| Response to “How to Read Literature Like a Professor” Chapters 23-26 |
[Feb. 27th, 2006|05:32 pm] |
Chapters 23 and 24 were the most interesting of the four chapters. They definitely forced me to take a closer look at illness in literature. He comes up with so many different things that the heart can symbolize. For instance, he says aside from the heart being a life force, it is a symbolic repository of emotion. In representing these things, a writer can also use any form of a heart problem to represent bad love, loneliness, disloyalty, etc. The heart or a problem with it can also be used to represent something on a larger scale such as a social metaphor. Weakness of heart in any aspect can be used to move a story and the conflicts of the characters within that story.
In the following chapter about illness in literature, Foster offers us four principles that govern the use of illness in fiction. They are as follows: not all diseases are created equal, it should be picturesque, it should be mysterious in origin, and it should have strong symbolic or metaphorical possibilities. When he discusses diseases that offer a picturesque representation, he brings up tuberculosis. I think another could possibly be considered polio because of its capabilities to physically cripple someone as well as draw the reader in. It requires you to look at the character in sympathetic light and possibly even pathetic if written that way. A good example for the use of tuberculosis was in the movie “Tombstone”. Val Kilmer plays the mysterious pale rider named Doc Holiday. Foster says that the sufferer takes on the appearance of a martyr in medieval paintings. Aside from the fact that he was a gun-wielding bad ass, he comes to the rescue of his partner in law when he faces the other supposed fastest shooter in the west for him. After beating him, he is overcome with sickness and ends up in a hospital where he dies anyway. This is probably one of the most literal examples of this.
Just to touch on a couple of Foster’s other points in the following chapters, don’t read with your eyes, he basically says that we have to be open to anything and let the story consume us. In the final chapter, he informs us that irony trumps everything, so when irony comes into a story, everything previous becomes meaningless. |
|
|
| Response to “How to Read Literature Like a Professor”: Chapters 19-22 |
[Feb. 27th, 2006|12:04 am] |
After reading these assigned chapters in “How to Read Literature Like a Professor”, I had wished that I read the first two prior to my presentation on setting. Basically, in the chapter titled, “Geography” matters, we see the importance of setting within a story and the author’s purpose in setting a story in a specific location. The geography of the story usually has implications or sometimes even foreshadows a characters actions or personality. It also may play a key part in the conflict and development of the story. Foster tells us that when a writer sends a character south, it’s so the character can run amok. In the chapter “So Does Season”, Foster stresses the importance of season and weather of the season as well. As readers, we relate certain seasons with different emotions and characteristics. Writers can use this to better relate characters to readers.
A good example of subconscious implications in conflict is very evident in Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants”. This is a very dialogue rich story about abortion in short. It’s basically a conversation between two people that is set inside of a bar during or after a heavy snowstorm. You can sense that there was a decision made by the characters and we read the discussion after the decision was made. The girl in the story mentions the scenery through the window as having “hills like white elephants”. After further research into the story I had no idea what the hell the story was about. In Asian cultures elephants are used as payments or gifts, but white or albino elephants are considered to be burdensome because they require so much extra care because of their white skin, which offers no protection from the sun. Or, an easier comparison to make would be a white elephant gift. Anyway, it turns out that the entire time, the two characters were discussing the abortion that the female character recently dealt with. If not prepared for, an infant could be considered a heavy financial burden. In short, setting (where and when), is one of the most important parts of a story. Emotions and conflict can carry on throughout the scenery of the story, and without the proper setting, it is possible that the conflict could remain static. If you read carefully, many intricate details of a story reside in the landscape of the story. |
|
|
| Assignment #2: Rewrite and Analysis of "Until Gwen" |
[Feb. 20th, 2006|06:11 pm] |
Deric Johnson
Black Tie Knife Party
As I walked through the door, the smell of smoke filled my nostrils and I could hear the faint sound of music dancing amongst the broken laughter and conversation. Being greeted by a tall, thin, red-haired woman in a candy apple dress came of a surprise considering the fact that I received my normal greeting from a putrid old man that had lost all but one of his teeth. She sat upon a beer-stained stool, which stood about three feet high in relation to her towering five-eleven status. This was inclusive of her three inch heels that were the color of night and completely filled, even overflowing with her milky-white feet, probably about size seven. After I was passed the rock-a-billy bombshell, I retreated to a dark table diagonal in relation to the stage. Then, a skinny, tattooed waiter with jet-black hair approached me. You could tell that he’d been around the block because his ink was rather faded, and his hair was obviously a dye job. This guy had that weathered skin and those fat knuckles; the kind that you’d get after months at sea in the coldest of the cold. He pulled out a black comb before he got to the table, and pulled it through his hair. As he reached the table, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of napkin and asked me what I was having. It was soaked with beer and looked like he had pulled off the bottom of his shoe not a second before he reached the table. I asked him for a pint and when he returned with it, I took notice that it was, in fact, a fine draft: no head, all elixir, and a dark tan in color. The night seemed to drone on, and the music became a whisper in the eve. A week of work and this is what I look forward to: a long night at the bar with no memory of the night before. Took a second to glance down at the floor and noticed that there were plenty of stains and memories from nights before scattered amongst black scuff marks and leftover peanut shells. I took a sip and set it back down on table. My nostrils began to flare, as I smelled that same smell as many months before. It was the smell of lilac flirting with the air molecules as if they were caught in a week old dance of seduction. My nose followed the smell like a hound in the heat of a summer’s chase.
The spotlight shown down on the stage with intensity and disastrous intent as it was just in time to catch two old men falling out of the good seats and onto the floor with beer soaked shirts and not a care in the world. After all they weren’t any different than me; just a poor slob with a dream and a hangover from the night before. I looked up and caught that same red dress bent over the bar looking back at the corner that I was sitting in. She was chattin’ it up with the bar keep who was rather attractive herself. I almost thought she dug chicks until she looked back at me and threw that red hair over her shoulder. I clear near fell off my stool when she ran her finger over her lips, pressing hard, making sure to fix her slightly smeared lip color. As she opened up a small tin, she pulled out something shiny from her bra. Cigarette in mouth and lipstick adjusted, she flicked the lighter on her thigh and huffed a breath of smoke. Wish I were that cigarette, I was thinking to my self as I crossed my legs with anxiousness. I ran my finger along the rim of the glass without noticing that it was hanging off of the edge of the table as I stared intently at her candy-apple can and ran my eyes up her back to that river of red hair. Someone was walking out of the bathroom now. I didn’t need to look the smell told me that anyway. I slipped a cigarette into my mouth and slid back in the chair. The chairs… they were the greatest part of this place besides her anyway. They were some sort of obnoxious red velvet leftover from the seventies like a drug child or something like that. My eyes caught her backside again and traveled to hers. She smashed her cigarette out into the ashtray, threw her hair over her shoulder once again, and slithered towards me. Fitting that way, snakes slither. I sank back in my chair and awaited her arrival. With my eyes on the drink, and my cigarette in my mouth, I let the smoke slide against my jaw line. Suddenly, I felt a chill. Not necessarily from the cold air but from a feeling. The door swung open, and my worst fear became a living nightmare.
He was black in dress with a face littered with scars. One drove into the side of his mouth so he had a semi-permanent sneer stretched across his mug. He wore black leather gloves on both hands and his hair was a mess. It was still covered in grease from the night before but it was hardly pomped tightly like he normally wore it. You could peer slightly beyond the boundaries of his long, black trench coat and notice the crossed leather straps of his holsters. They shined like some sort of death dealing diamonds in the pale light of the nicotine stained, hanging bar lamps. He wore five-dollar boots that had a hundred dollar shine. He clamored across the floor making his way towards the bar while dragging his right leg slightly behind him. His leg didn’t listen to him. It would have liked to keep up with the rest of his body, but it just couldn’t. I should know; I gave him that limp. Everyone knew him as the Rev but I knew him as the reason for cursing my being. But what the fuck was he doing here. He was put up in the joint for trafficking down near pier 7. They never got him on anything else.
I could feel the anticipation and anger well up inside of me. My blood vessels were exploding and I felt myself get a little light headed as I took another sip of my beer and followed it with a drag from the cigarette. I call the waitress over and order a tumbler of Old Crow. He was the reason that I lost Rosemary. I can still feel her body pressed against mine just like the amputee feels the phantom limb. I catch myself after a few drunken minutes of speaking Rosemary’s name aloud. Sunfalls and Watershine, sunfalls and watershine, she always fell into my eyes and whispered that in my ear. I love you to death and she’d wrap her arms around me like I was slipping away into a black hole never to see her again. I wish that hadn’t been true, except she was me, and my life was the black hole, consuming her and killing her softly. Before I could blink again, it was gone. Just another daydream gone before I could taste her tongue one last time. The sweet sweet haunting of my dreamscapes continue…
I glance over towards the bar and see that same redhead light up another cigarette realizing why I was staring so contently at her; she looked exactly like Rosemary. I watch that scum walk up beside her and slap her ass following with a poor slip of the hand under her dress. Smack! Across his face her hand went and you could hear it above the music, laughter, and chatter.
I hear the click of the jukebox switching records. That same fucking Wayne Hancock song slapping off the walls of the bar and into my eardrums. Again the creak of the door and a cold gust of wind as it swung open. In walk Necktie and John the Carpenter, two of the Reverend’s men.
Necktie was nothing short of vicious to say the least. He wasn’t one of those clean guys that carried a gun, shot a few off and that was that. He carried two knives; one long and one short, and loved to torture his victim. He would slit their throat and then slice their tongue. If that wasn’t bad enough, while they were gasping for breath and gurgling on blood, he would pull their tongue down the back of their throat and out through the bloody slit. It happened so fast that most of the time they would choke on their tongue before they even realized that they had a gaping hole in their throat.
John the Carpenter, aside from being an actual carpenter before he enlisted with the wrong dudes, was infamous for a plethora of brutal slayings. I’m talking filthy, bloody crime scenes pulsing with pain and agony. He once nailed some poor guy to a wall and watched him bleed to death all because he cut him off on the freeway. I watched him stride across the bar vomiting pride as he moved with precision, making sure no poor soul looked at him the wrong way.
They float across the floor and up to the bar like two ghosts of the old world haunting my dreamscapes and newfound reality. I see their lips moving but nothing coming out. This damn music is too fucking loud. I know what they’re talking about. It’s got to be the diamond. They want it and they won’t stop until they get it.
I call to the waitress and she dances over to the table. I’ll have the same, I say to her. I can’t even concentrate long enough to light a cigarette. I pull it out of the pack smoothly trying to move as little as possible as to not draw any attention to myself. The wet napkin that I wiped my lips with would do just fine. She returned with my beer after squirming her way past the rest of the bar. I borrow her pen and begin to scribble on the napkin. I send it back with her to the bar and into the hands of the stunning redhead. The waitress rolls it across the bar and into her hand. She unfolds it, and I see her eyes glide from left to right as her head moved down until she found herself gazing across the bar and searing holes into my bloodshot eyes.
While drinking that last drop in my glass, I slide my chair out from under me as quickly as I possibly can without drawing any attention from the dudes at the bar. The bathroom was to my right down a dark hallway. There were always these little cunts sitting on the floor outside the bathroom doing blow off the payphones while their cock sucking, vampire boyfriends were banging them against the wall. You couldn’t help but watch for a second before you went to do your thing in the bathroom.
I push the door open with my palm, and walk over to the first stall. Fucking wonderful… well I guess I’m not using that one. There’s some junkie passed out with a needle hanging out of his arm. I walk over next door, into the second stall. I slide my zipper out of the way, pull it out, and begin to relieve myself. Suddenly, the door hit my ass, and then small, dainty hands grab my waist and begin to slide forward down around my piece. It always feels better when its so wrong… the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong woman. She spins me around with her hand on it , and presses her voluptuous lips up against mine jamming her tongue into my mouth. As her tongue violated my mouth, the smell of perfume permeated my sense of smell… lilacs with a touch of sage, Rosemary. It was Rosemary’s perfume. Her tongue rapes my lips along with the rest of my torso and I feel her hands begin to unfasten my belt. Stopping her, I wrap my hands around her wrists and pull her up into my field of sight. Looking her in the eyes, I reach into my pocket. She shutters and begins to wince as if she’s in pain. The transparent stone jabs me in the palm as I release it from my grasp and drop it into hers. Staring intensely at her newly found fortune, the corner of her mouth sparkles…a drop of drool. She wasn’t Rosemary, but I didn’t care. I just wanted out. Tired… tired of running, tired of stealing, tired of killing, fucking tired. I said my goodbyes, to the stone, and her as well, and tell her to get out of the business and make an honest life for herself. Her hair falls around her face like a strawberry blonde picture frame, she wipes the tears out of her eyes, and she continues with the warm embrace. Whispers in her ear… I tell her not to look back and not to trust anyone until she’s rid of the diamond. At that moment, she walked out of the stall passed the needle whore, and out of my life.
There was a back door to this place. I’m sure of it. Passed the payphone, and the vampire cock suckers, there was a back door. I use it and find myself in an alleyway with one dead end and an opening leading to the street, but a car was blocking it. The car was a Cadillac El Dorado , and it was black… the Reverend’s car. With the trunk facing me, I see the doors swing open, and out walk the Rev and his men. Fuck! They walk towards me and the Rev asks if I’ve got a second. He said he wanted to talk, but when he talked, someone diead.
Kneeling in a puddle with my hands bound behind my back, I told them that I didn’t have it and had no idea where it was. No chances left and BANG! The six chambers were empty.
I’m laying on the ground with a river of red pouring from my skull, a bullet lodged in my cranium, five in my back, and my body is contorted on the cement.
My new surroundings were a dumpster. I could taste the metal in my mouth. It was iron… iron in the blood that I was hacking up. That smell… it was gasoline. And then the strike…
The strike of the MATCH.
Our silent death becomes the spoken word. Cap your pens and sheath your swords. Signatures of good-for-nothings flood the filing cabinet that is life. Rethink… recalculate infinity and all that deafens. The ears of our youths bleed with outrage. I wonder through this hospital corridor. My hypodermic needle is held high above my head. Kill the dreamers… halt our progress… pull the plug on the comatose. I, like all, am an orphan of civility. We choose not to follow, just don’t leave us here to die. Retire your pens and retire your guns. Melt your knives down to the murderous minds that they were created from. We all enter this world, not innocent, not decent. But I can remember it as if it were yesterday. That was the day that I was reborn. That was the day that I surrendered my faith. A day that my selfless life had ended, and the world stopped turning. It was that day that I was condemned to spend the rest of my life behind these walls of aluminum. Decompose… my insides are beginning to break down. The flesh covered cage in which I was imprisoned now lies empty. The chemical compounds from which I was created are now immersed in fire. It dances along my skin like a barefoot dancer on broken glass. Flesh searing, melting and separating away from the bone. It drips like wax off of a candle. Can you feel the fire surrounding? I’m comatose in this crematorium. Will anyone ever come?
Analysis
Let’s first talk in terms of setting:
All and all, I didn’t keep anything the same while rewriting “Until Gwen” by Dennis Lehane. I chose to set my version in this filthy little bar that I gave birth to inside my head. It was loosely inspired by an actual bar called Silk City on Spring Garden Street. It is indeed a filthy little bar but there is something pleasant about it as well. The best part about the setting of a story is that people can be inclusive of setting. I think that the tone of the story is described best through the setting of the bar and the people that reside in it. I used a little bit of language to further illustrate the dirty, underground nature of the story.
In terms of characters, I chose to change Gwen to Rosemary. I chose this name because of the warmth that it brings to character. Rosemary is a very colorful name. It also breaks up the dirty bar setting when you read about the main character reminiscing of times that he once had with Rosemary. If you break down the name, we have rose, which is of course the red flower but it remains a little rough around the edges because on the stem, there are thorns. Mary, in a religious connotation is the mother figure. This is what the main character saw in Gwen. She was the love of his life and seemed to be a sweet girl, but at the same time, she wasn’t that sweet because she was helping him commit crimes, hence the thorns. He did in fact see some type of motherly figure in Gwen because he found warmth and sanction in her along with safety.
The character of the Reverend is not that much different than the father. He is lower than low, and would do whatever he could to get his hands on the diamond, including killing his own son. At the same time, he shows cowardice because who are the two people that he kills in the story? Gwen and Mandy the hooker who are both women. That is why I chose to have one of the father’s lackies kill him off. This brings me to my next point of analysis: the death of the main character. I chose to kill him off because in the story we find out that the main character has no identity without Gwen. He feels as if he could disappear at any moment like a John Doe, thus he has no will to live without Gwen. The diamond symbolizes Gwen in a way : she was a bit rough around the edges and worth as much as someone was willing to pay. In this case, the main character loved her more than life itself and gave simply gave it away to someone that looked like his long, lost love. After all, what good are the tires without the car or without Gwen, who cares about having a big expensive diamond and no one to share it.
I changed the point of view to first person. I thought that this would make it a lot easier to read and we also get everything directly through the eyes of the main character. We get to see what he sees in Rosemary through what he sees in the girl that looks
like her and we see a lot more about his character through how he perceives other people and his surroundings. |
|
|
| Response to “The Girls” by Joy Williams |
[Feb. 19th, 2006|07:44 pm] |
I was a bit unsure of this story after reading it. Death was definitely a strong theme throughout the story. For one, we find out that the girls had four cats, but only two of them were actually alive. The other two were contained in urns on the mantle. The author also discusses the birds that the cats killed and how numerous the bird deaths actually were. We also find out about the dead best boy named Donny and then the conclusion of death with the mother falling and hitting her head. We find out that she is sick and most likely dies from one of the last lines in the story in which the priest prepares for a burial: “He had quite regained his composure, as though for the moment he had put the old dead behind him and was moving on to the requirements of the quickening new.”
I also liked the way that the author chose to develop the characters of the girls. He uses the cats to describe their characters. They snoop around in Arleen’s things looking for her diary, the way that cats sneak around in the dark of night. We also find out that the girls hide from their mother the fact that their cats have killed numerous song birds, so that the mother won’t make them get rid of the cats. This is another event that illustrates how sneaky their personalities are. I found their personalities to be very strange in relation to their ages. The girls were 31 and 33 but had the personalities of small children, which makes me think that the title is in fact “The Girls” instead of being “The Ladies”. I had a hard time pulling out a meaning or a plot behind the story. Not the theme particularly, just a general purpose, conflict, or plot. Maybe I read too much into it or not enough but maybe someone could shed some light on this for me online or in class. |
|
|
| Response to "The Cousins" by Joyce Carol Oates |
[Feb. 12th, 2006|09:03 pm] |
|
Not necessarily the most interesting story, but refreshing none the less. The way that the story was written was a bit strange but easy to get used to. The letter format was strange until I read the first half of the story and realized that it worked in helping to move the plot along until we get to the ending and don’t really know what has happened to Rebecca. The letter format helps us to really understand that there is a lack of relation between the two characters because Freyda does not return her letters for a while after they are sent and even when she does return them, they are very cold and insincere. Letters are a very good way to illustrate the distance between two characters. In the beginning, we see that Rebecca is the aggressive and persistent character in the story as she tries to pursue a relationship with her long lost cousin. She is an elderly, and obviously lonely woman to start with and then slowly Freyda becomes accustomed to receiving the letters from Rebecca and we see a role reversal. Rebecca is receiving treatment for her probably terminal illness, and she does not call Freyda upon request. It seems that she must have died because Freyda never heard from her again. If you look at the bigger picture, Rebecca was probably trying to find Freyda because she knew that she was dying, the way that people with terminal illnesses try to tie up the loose ends because they know that they are going to die. I give this four stars for being clever, mysterious, and refreshing. |
|
|
| Assignment 1 |
[Feb. 9th, 2006|06:01 pm] |
We find Father, Son, and that filthy hooker Mandy inside the stolen Dodge Neon.
Roll Sound and cue the music: Death From Above, Pull Out
Oh, I love my girl
I want to get her off
Turn the lights up
So I can see
Turn the lights up
Turn the lights up
Push in, Push in, Push in
Push in, Push in
Pull out
Let your spirit free girl
Let your spirit free
Push in…Push in… Oh
Pull out
Let your spirit free
Push in
-A filthy band, a filthy song, a filthy scene, you simply feel filthy all over while listening to this song. Death From Above takes raw, underground sounds of dance and groove along with fast, distorted bass and keyboards, and forcibly mutates them into their own unique sound. The song Pull Out never made it feel so good to be so bad. The song Pull Out is actually about an informal type of contraception used during sex but I feel that it fits this scene so well because you have the main character along with his father in the car with a hooker named Mandy and an 8-ball of coke. This scene along with the music makes for a dysfunctional orgy of elements along with an air of awkwardness permeating the upholstery in the automobile because we find out later that Mandy gives the main character “lousy head” in the car. Which brings me to my next musical selection that takes us out of the scene and into the hotel room.
Exit Scene: Death From Above, Sexy Results
Sexy girl meet me in the bathroom
Sexy girl call me on the phone
Women friend take me to your bedroom
Let me show how I'm full grown
Sexy women call me to your office
Sexy women meet me after work
I wanna show you how I handle business
I wanna show you how the mail-boy flirts
My man wants to buy you something
He wants to take you out for dinner and dancing
My friend wants to take you out then home
Then home alone
Again just another song that I couldn’t help but mention because of the filthy atmosphere that it creates; an atmosphere that you can’t help but be engulfed by when you listen to it. I chose Death From Above for Scene #1 because of their dirty lyrics, and chaotic rhythm to set the tone inside of the car.
- Themes and Theme Songs
Where are you Gwen?-
We see in the story that the narrator feels lost without Gwen. He feels lost without her, and there is no him without her. They complemented each other like cheese and whine, death, and a funeral, and Bonnie and Clyde. He feels without a place, as there is no use in being anyone or having an identity because he doesn’t have an identity or even a will to be alive without Gwen’s presence in his life. He is reduced to sheer mediocrity and loses his foothold on life left in the dust with awkwardness and insanity. That’s why I have chosen “Albatross” by Converge to represent this theme.
Five lives dead and gone. We breathe out of key and wonder. If you can hear the awkwardness in these tremors. Draining, cutting, this cancer out. Teeth gaping yet I make no sound. Six hammers and one sky, falling. Five lives dead and gone. Mediocrity in believing in everything, and this lack of will has buried them forever.
Converge is a chaotic grind band that combines violent guitar thrashing with poetic perfection in their lyrics. It is so chaotic and raw sounding yet it still maintains structure with their math-rack and roll style. Everything is timed and the singer Jacob screeches his lyrics aloud while convulsing across the stage. The line where he mentions six hammers and one sky falling could represent the narrator grasp on life without Gwen, falling out of touch with the world. He says and this lack of will has buried them forever. This almost indefinitely represents physical and emotion traits of the story. The fact that he made the father dig Gwen’s body up and he probably killed and buried the father in that same hole and his feelings of love and enjoyment buried forever along with Gwen.
Feelings of hate-
We see throughout the story that the father isn’t very concerned with the well being of his son. For one, he killed Gwen and we find out at the end of the story that the father was only concerned with his son because he thought that the son knew where the diamond was. Year of the Swine is a very vicious, violent song, both musically and lyrically again by the band Converge. I think that this song does a fine job is summing up the character traits of the father. He isn’t concerned with anyone but himself. His dad got him a hooker and slept with her himself, and most likely offed her. He is the lowest of the low, and the scum of the earth. The last line of the song describes him best and the line before that illustrates death, and as we know from the ending, the son kills the father.
Year of the Swine (Converge)
You carry the loyalty of dogs so you shall be led to the slaughter as swine. It all seemed so real when you whispered, adorned with rose petals and the best of intention. Bleeding softly. I wonder if he ever felt as warm. It’s late and my ears can’t listen and there is no one to life me to my feet. But I still dream of you twisting and contorting beneath a garbage bag veil. And this is how it ends. Pretty and black as the soul.
For the love of Gwen-
This next song is very short but sweet as well. It is extremely representative of the son’s feelings towards Gwen and the loss of her. He finds himself lacking an identity without Gwen but he constantly reminisces of the times that they shared. These small portions that go in and out of the story are very warm moments, and the only moments that are warm throughout the entire story. The rest of the story is very cold and dark. In his heart, every time he has flashbacks of the past he resurrects Gwen as if she were a phoenix rising from the ashes. This is true in the literal sense as well. He wants her to rise out of her hole, her grave, and bring him back to life and bring meaning back to his life.
Phoenix In Flames (Converge)
She burns as bright as the sun and she falls darker than night. She shines as light as these days and she fades faster than time. Phoenix in flames.
Overall Theme-
In my mind, this song is the ideal theme song for the entire story. Reaction is brought to us via From Ashes Rise. They are very dark band that begin in death and end in rebirth. Every line in this song has its own place in some part of the story. The music rings with hopelessness, death and violence, but still beautiful in its own right. They combine dark melodies, with the percussion sounds of a post-apocalyptic hardcore band. Every time I listen to this song, I feel like the horsemen of the apocalypse are about to fall from the sky. The lyrics are very visual, and represent not only internal struggle within the characters but also external struggle and the fight for life (father kills girlfriend and hooker, son kills father). The story envelops death and deception to their extremes. The first line symbolizes the narrator’s feelings about himself without Gwen. The second line and the line that follows, guides us and the main character through his struggle from his reminiscence of Gwen to finding out about her brutal demise. We never see him actually accept Gwen’s death, but he takes a deep breath, and strikes down her killer out of anger and disgust without ever thinking twice. The last line is my favorite because there is not victor in this story, and no spoils to receive. The dad doesn’t get the diamond, and the son doesn’t want the diamond. He wants Gwen.
Reaction (From Ashes Rise)
To sheer nothingness, the last breath of reckless abandon. A flash to eclipse millenniums and wash away the footsteps of faithless fatalities. To sheer nothingness, rattling the walls with the winds of decay. While on the winds of change, the ice age is scorched in the warheaded reign. One final breath, shine in overreaction. One final stand, shine on lights of destruction. A reaction…shines on forever in black. Razing the shadows and tearing silence to shreds, into the sky, suicide, no turning back. To the victors go the spoils, to the victors go the spoils. |
|
|
| Group project on setting. |
[Feb. 9th, 2006|12:36 pm] |
|
Whomever is in the group on setting, our project is due next Tuesday February 14 and we still have yet to meet. If you are in this group. please get back to me asap so that we can arrange a time t oget this shit done. |
|
|
| Response to "Until Gwen" by Dennis Lehane |
[Jan. 30th, 2006|05:44 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | good stuff | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Go Home, Get Down:Death From Above | ] |
This story was flawless in my opinion. Every single paragraph of this story was nothing short of riveting. I had to read it twice again as I was enthralled by Lehane’s Frank Miller-esque darkness that he brought to the page in this short story. The point of view and voice of the story was very clever as well. The reading becomes an actual character in the story, which adds to close relationship between the reader, the father, and Gwen. Even the change in tempo between present action and past action is hard to intertwine in fourteen pages, but I think that it is very easy to follow and they work in harmony together to create a very visual space for the reader to interact with. For instance when you know he had been in prison and he was getting out, but you don’t know why until very close to the end of the story. The fact that you don’t really know what the “it” is in the story also aids in the visualization of the story due to the character’s possible amnesia from the head wounds.
The entire story is centered on this mysterious “it” that the father wants and the son has. Whether or not the son/reader knows where “it” is becomes mysterious as well. You don’t really know if he knows where “it” is but won’t tell the father, or if he simply doesn’t remember because he was shot in the head twice. The twist at the end of the story was more than refreshing when we find out that the father has killed and possibly raped Gwen because she had refused to give him the diamond when all along she had swallowed it. The way that Lehane shows us where the diamond actually is very clever as well. He describes the character telling the father to look at where her stomach once was and he finally sees the diamond amongst her decomposing stomach, and then he kills him with the shovel.
I don’t know if I read too far into it, but I saw the actual diamond as a metaphor for the way that “Bobby” felt about Gwen. After all, diamonds are typically seen as a symbol for perfection. You can also stereotypically see your reflection in a diamond. He saw perfection in Gwen and he also saw himself in Gwen. When he loses Gwen, he loses himself and his foothold on life along with her. |
|
|
| Reaction to First Four Measures by Nathaniel Bellows |
[Jan. 29th, 2006|02:46 am] |
This wasn’t a difficult read nor was the main theme hard to grasp. First Four Measures was an enthralling tale of two lonely individuals that seem to relate to one another regardless of their age and gender. My initial reaction to First Four Measures was that of surprise. I followed the entire story until the end when the reader finds out that Mr. Nichol’s, the piano teacher, was a bit of a pedophile. I thought that it was a little strange to read that the boy’s piano teacher was a little too close for comfort but I didn’t think that it was going to play such an integral part in the story. I kept brushing it off until it finally culminated at the conclusion of the story when the boy’s parents returned home.
First Four Measures was not a story that I would normally read but I found myself captivated by the fact that an elderly woman that spends her life hand and hand with loneliness, finds friendship with a not so likely individual; the young boy. His piano playing alone seems to keep Mrs. Spence more than just entertained, but she sees it as a way to bond with the young boy and simply because she enjoys to hear him play. I was still caught off guard by the ending to the story. After reading it a second time, I was able to pull out the fact that because of the boy’s introverted personality, if it had not been for Mrs. Spence than Mr. Nichols, the piano teacher would have continued to touch the boy and possibly other students. Mrs. Spence was there for the boy when no one else could have been, and the boy kept Mrs. Spence content with his music and his previously unrealized friendship with the house sitter to begin with. All and all, I would rate it a four out of five stars for content and theme. |
|
|
| new lj |
[Jan. 27th, 2006|01:25 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  annoyed | ] |
This page belongs to tattew or Deric if you prefer. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
tattew's journal