Monday, September 15, 2008

don't huff glue, don't drink pot

Just so you know, upon starting this blog I typed in the title bar, almost without any thought at all: if you need me i'll be over here, huffing glue.
I do not know why I felt this was an appropriate title, or why it was the first thing that came to mind, because a) I never title these things until I'm done writing them and b) I have never huffed anything, much less glue... and c) because... yeah... what?

I'm probably as confused as you are right now. But I'm also now thinking about Love Liza and what a depressing-yet-amazing movie that was, what with the whole wife-committing-suicide-so-therefore-resigning-to-a-life-of-huffing-gasoline thing, and subsequently thinking about how awesome Phillip Seymor Hoffman is and how much I can't wait for Synecdoche, New York, which I am willing to bet will not be playing around here, so I'm already prepared to complain a little bit (or a lot) before driving to Tampa or somewhere else because Charlie Kaufman is f'ing brilliant, and I will not miss seeing it in theaters.

A brief interjectory disclaimer:
1. If you're wondering if I will come to a point, I'll tell you now, I probably won't.
2. Sometimes I feel bad for the people who take the time to read this.
3. This is one of those times.

I'm thinking that really weird stream-of-consciousness title was subconciously referring to the stress I'm feeling at the moment as a result of having to write two papers this evening, or because I had to endure a really rediculous moment in class where pot was mentioned and I felt like I reverted back to third grade when the teacher said something that sounded like a part of the anatomy and everyone would get all giggly - don't get me wrong, I had to bite my tongue really hard not to laugh at this woman using slang drug language, but somewhere in there the point got entirely lost. It seemed like people were speaking up just to get the chance to talk about drugs or something... my favorite least-favorite part was when this one kid corrected her usage of the phrase smoking pot because, and I roughly quote, "you don't have to smoke it, you can eat it, or brew it in tea." I could do nothing but laugh, and die a little on the inside, because, seriously... why even open your mouth dude?

At any rate, that is neither here nor there...

I originally came here only to say this:

In case you want to know how I will be spending my evening, it will be spent slaving over my computer attempting to spit out six pages of analysis on one poem, and then another four for different paper. Luckilly the poem is of my own chosing, so its kind of fun... but still... I spent three hours at a coffee shop today going through my pages of pre-writing and scribblings on the poem itself, and staring at the blinking line in Microsoft Word, and all I left with was a title: In Surfeit of Glory: Sanguinity in A.R Ammons’ “Still”

I think its a pretty cool title though.

How is it that its only a few weeks into the semester and I'm already in this prediciment? And why have I wasted twenty minutes blabbing about nothing here?

For those of you who are still reading, I'm impressed, and apologetic. As a token of my, uh, either gratitude or sympathy, here's some good writing; the aforementioned poem.

by A.R Ammons

I said I will find what is lowly
and put the roots of my identity
down there:
each day I’ll wake up
and find the lowly nearby,
a handy focus and reminder,
a ready measure of my significance,
the voice by which I would be heard,
the wills, the kinds of selfishness
I could
freely adopt as my own:

but though I have looked everywhere,
I can find nothing
to give myself to:
everything is

magnificent with existence, is in
surfeit of glory:
nothing is diminished,
nothing has been diminished for me:

I said what is more lowly than the grass:
ah, underneath,
a ground-crust of dry-burnt moss:
I looked at it closely
and said this can be my habitat: but
nestling in I
below the brown exterior
green mechanisms beyond intellect
awaiting resurrection in rain: so I got up

and ran saying there is nothing lowly in the universe:
I found a beggar:
he had stumps for legs: nobody was paying
him any attention: everybody went on by:
I nestled in and found his life:
there, love shook his body like a devastation:
I said
though I have looked everywhere
I can find nothing lowly
in the universe:

I whirled through transfigurations up and down,
transfigurations of size and shape and place:

at one sudden point came still,
stood in wonder:
moss, beggar, weed, tick, pine, self, magnificent
with being!

1 comment:

Ashlyn Alyce said...

He also mentioned putting it in brownies... I was not so successful at trying not to laugh.