Simple choice, as an intellectual genius you have the opportunity to do more for humanity.
Simple choice, as an intellectual genius you have the opportunity to do more for humanity.
-shy smile- it's work in progress, i was thinking about writing something for the ed challenge on mibba since i read some interesting stuff bibliophagy lately and it somehow turned into something that has to do more with the old testament and stories and words than skinny girls, but whatever.
and, lo, a roll of a book was therein;and he spread it before me;
and it was written within and without:and there was written therein
lamentations, and mourning, and woe. moreover he said unto me,
son of man, eat that thou findest; eat this roll, and go speak unto
the house of israel.
than in this whole album and in its I-am-against-authority theme.
love is just gentle, maniacal, blind, sorrowful, not political.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new
it's never like the poems and songs, isn't it?
i finished amelie nothomb's the life of hunger in two or three hours last night. i wanted to finish the magic mountain first but i couldn't help myself. as i expected it, the novel was short, caustic, innocent and autobiographical. as i had not expected it, the chapter about anorexia itself lasts three pages and has a pathetic word count. it's like the author slaps you -ha, you fool, you thought this was going to be an angsty memoir about "battles" with eating disorders, well it's not. it's about the strange bibliophile daughter of a world class diplomate.- and it works.
mom's in paris. and she promised she'll buy me some books in french. i'm going to a latin translations contest next week and i have the day off tomorrow and most of next week's.
by far the best book on food and hunger is arabian nights, i think i'll reread some of the stories this month.
in other news i'm making a point out of reading a lot of what antic (greek and latin) literature has to offer this summer, and i'm rather excited about it. i never really had the time to get into greek tragedy seriously or to read more/all of plato's dialogs. so. superexcitement. and since summer starts in may for me i'm starting on gilgamesh's epic, euripide's tragedies and the banquet and poetry by catul these days.
I'm going to reread Madame Bovary now. I feel like rereading nowadays.
I'm giving a presentation on the novel tomorrow.
I hope that the movie will be interesting enough to distract everyone from what I'm saying, not that anyone'd listen to me anyway.
you know I really love this novel. I've read it twice integrally and parts of it three or four times. I've based projects on it.
it's not the little green light thing. the dreams. nothing of that sort. it used to be all that, but now it's not.
I've read books about Fitzgerald and Zelda, now it's all about them, their society, their damnation, the excess. the jazz and the champagne.
he's sweet in his hopelessness, Hemingway tries to make Zelda sound like a bitch but I like her too -how could I not take pity on someone who's psychotic?-
I do this with a lot of writers. I like their books out of pity. and then maybe it's more than that.
I like their books because their misery, knowing that they were real people, people who wrote because they needed to not because they were bored or for some other shallow reason makes me look at their books and try to find something to likable. I started to cry the other day while watching a documentary on Kerouac. but I cry at many things.
I have no idea what I'll say tomorrow. I really want to talk about the 20s as an age, as a way of life, I'll go from there.
I didn't want to talk about Gatsby, though.
I've read this short story by Borges a few days ago, it was called El Aleph. and what I found stunning was not the aleph itself -an aleph is a point that contains all points in the universe, somewhat like a magic mirror, read the story- but the fact that Dante, Beatrice and Borges are the main characters. in a way, a little. he is named Daneri and she's named Beatriz. he's a poet and she's dead. the resemblances are obvious. Borges often put himself as a character in his stories the same way Dante was the main character of his. then the story is bitter, Borges is mean to Daneri and the poet is vain and melodramatic. Borges-the author mocks the great poet as he often mocks himself. it is my theory that Borges was secretly jealous of Dante for his love, the same way Dante the writer was jealous of Francesca in Inferno. Beatrice is firstly a salvation, not carnal love, actually their love is spiritual by definition, they barely see each other. so Dante is jealous of the couple, although their love had brought them ethernal damnation, not even hell can separate them. Borges on the other hand was jealous because he never experienced that kind of love, the one that saves you, he only fell in love in his old age.
there is an other beatrice that I can think of - Rosetti's wife. Elizabeth. the pre-raphaelities' muse.
I wonder if she brought him salvation. maybe this time she needed to be saved and he failed.
now I wonder if Dante scared the original Beatrice. it would've scared me. a little. only a little. that kind of intense love can be nothing but scary when it comes only from one side.
three days until easter break. :)
another month is over.
two weeks until easter break.
nine weeks until year 11 is over.
I just have to survive the finals now. I have a massive list of books that I want to read this summer,
with special emphasis on the books required for my philosophy class next year
the reading list is depressingly long.... I'm reading some philosophy of culture book now, though, it's cool
if you read between the lines. the way we -unconsciously- perceive space and time rules our culture/style.
interesting stuff, really.
I'll try to remember the books that I've read this month, I am committed to keeping a count.
21. A Movable Feast, Ernest Hemingway
22. The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway
23. The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories, Ernest Hemingway
24. The Dead and the Compass [and other stories], Jorge Luis Borges
25. The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco
26. Metamorphoses, Ovid [the first two or three books, not all of them, though]
27. Alexis, Marguerite Yourcenar
28. On n'y voit rien, Daniel Arasse
39. L'Etranger, Albert Camus
it was a busy month and I didn't have time to read. >_>
the Daniel Arasse art history book is so so epic. -gasp-
I've started reading an other half a douzen books. and abandoned two books -The Plague by Camus and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I want to finish For Whom the Bell Tolls and then I'm not going to read Hemingway for a while. it's starting to get to me.
I'm going to make up for it.
In other news, I'm writing an article on YA literature for the school mag. I wrote an article on great generations vs lost generations in the other number and I want to publish something somewhat similar. I'm using The Catcher in the Rye and Siddhartha. it's going to be awesome. ^___________^ I'm excited, lol.
mibba's working again, so I'm off. n___n
I have some essay on Le Cid to write for world lit too.
Reading Perks of Being a Wallflower made me want to write book reports. I do write some for school and I like coming up with thesis as different from the conventional ones as possible, but I never really had a teacher that was cool enough to ask me to write reports on anything not in the curriculum. And currently, the curriculum contains solely Romantic poetry [which is fine, up to one point]. On the other hand I wish I had the willpower to gather and sort information, I like books, I think things about books, I tell people about books, I come to interesting conclusions, I can rarely bring myself to write them down. :/
When I was around 3 or 4 I used to travel by train with my mom a lot. Maybe not that much, but it's one of the few things I remember doing when I was little so I assume I did it a lot. I loved it, I loved the people that I met and just the feeling, the special occasion. I remember that mom read The Wonderful Wizard of Oz to me on a few of those trips, I don't remember her reading anything else to me, I don't know if she read many books to me and I only liked the Wizard or if she just read that one. In February I bought an extra-cheap Penguin Popular Classics copy of the book [the type with green covers and recycled paper] and started to carry it around in my school bag as a book to read when I have only a few minutes to waste. I finished it yesterday morning. I didn't recall most of the plot, just the basics, I guess that made the story more interesting and intriguing.
While the story is catchy and I did like the plot, somewhat, but it disappointed me once I looked at it in comparison with other children literature classics. Firstly, Dorothy seems ...empty, she's just an empty character, half of the savor of Alice in Wonderland is Alice's character itself, the way she feels, thinks and acts, Dorothy never feels anything but standard emotions. Then the author -in an effort to mirror folk stories, I'm assuming- keeps repeating words and phrases, it gets tiring after a while. That and some unnecessary or cliche episodes. It's a nice story nonetheless, I would've stopped reading it if it weren't.
The Wizard of Oz is -indisputably?- the most read American children's tale and it had a big effect both American and world popular culture. Its popularity is partially due to the 1939 MGM movie- arguably the most watched movie in history. L. Frank Baum wrote 13 sequels [and I'm debating purchasing some of them, I'll probably end up wasting my money on something else, though]. Some say that the story is -just?- a parable meant to put Populism is a good light. I'm not denying the fact that Baum's opinions impacted his work and that he couldn't have written a story that'd contradict his views, but to write a political manifesto in a children's book seems to me pointless.
I'm watching the movie tonight. Since I remembered seeing it before I was shocked to read that the magic slippers were silver not ruby-red. At the moment I'm battling Hemingway's For Whom The Bell Tolls, I don't think I'll pick up another of his book for some while, maybe I'll finish Naked Lunch.
p.s. 1900 illustrated edition
the title doesn't have anything to do with anything.
I just wanted something to make me happy.
my wearyweary eyes look too awful.