annie hall

Read me

Read me

I've always really loved poetry, but writing about it can sometimes be a little intimidating. For this reason I think that the list of poetic terms is extremely helpful. Even if when we are not hit with anything obvious to write about when we encounter a poem, we go through the list of terms to see if one in particular stands out. This is a good starting point, I think. But what is important to keep in mind when doing this is not to think of the poetic terms and the content in isolation. It has become clear that when thinking of one first and then the other creates a gap in meaning that wouldn't be there is looked at holistically.

It is really hot in my room so I kept waking up in a state of discomfort throughout the night. Because of this I had a series of interrupted dreams last night. They were the strangest dreams I've had in a long time.

I actually had this dream before I posted the one before it.

Last night I went out for drinks with a few friends and we started to talk about our the war and our [fascist] government. Anyway, when I got home later that night I had the following dream..

I was in some kind of a class. We were all paired up and had a specific task to accomplish. We get on an airplane, but it soon turns into a train. We make our way to upstate NY, but the landscape outside the windows looked like Europe. Interestingly, the train we were in felt like a "European train" and the subway all at once. Me and another student on the train seemed to have a pretty close relationship. In my dream's mind I had been fighting my feelings for him and throughout the dream found myself inching closer and closer to him. Thig boy was my partner and a part of our taks was drawing little Cartmans (fr. South Park) on all the signs and murals we would come across. I drew one on a train/subway sign (it may have been one of those "School of Philosophy" ones actually haha.) It felt like our job was the most important one of all the class.

We finally arrived upstate. We got out of the train (which had later become a bus) and I saw a huge school called "Eaton." I remember seeing the actual word on the school's bell tower. It was strange to me because the school was called Eaton (which is in England) but I knew I was still in NY (my dream mind wasn't allowing for the condensation there!) I figured the school was just a cheap American knockoff. When I looked into the windows of the school I saw an imense auditorium with all the chairs aranged in same the shape of the pentagon building (that is, like a pentagon). I started screaming out "IMPERIALISTS!" and everyone started to look at me funny. At this point I woke up.

(Btw, I had read earlier that week an article about Tray and Parker in a newspaper, and in the digitally altered picture was a sketch of Cartman's face and "You suck Tom" on the Church of Scientology's sign.)

I'm selling bus tickets to D.C. for the HUGE ANTI-WAR PROTEST this coming SATURDAY MARCH 17.

The tickets are $25 each. The bus will probably leave from Queens early Sat. morning. We will be back that same night.

If you'd rather get wasted once again this weekend than letting the assholes in the gov. know you don't approve of killing babies, mothers, old people, innocent citizens and our fellow Americans aka cannon fodder for oil and big business, that's your business.

But if you're in the mood for change send me an email:
Snunez716@aol.com

If you can't/decide not to come please let anyone who might be interested know. Thanks.

The first sample test we took was not as difficult as I thought it would be. I'm definately not saying it was easy, but to take Professor's words, it was "doable." I didn't really study for the first sample test, but when I took it I found that I remembered more of the information from all the survey courses i had taken than expected. This was a very nice surprise and I'm sure others felt the same way.

Right now it's just a matter of consistent reviewing and familarizing with the actual works of the period and its themes in order to do better. In this manner, the study guides are really useful.
It seems that the key for answering the questions is getting down and spelling out each detail that stands out as indicative of the author or period, no matter how obvious they may seem to us as first. When taken all together it will [hopefully] amount to a substantive answer.

What was also really good about the sample test was how it allowed us to get a better sense of the time alloted for that part of the exam. Two hours is a really good amount of time. I can see us doing a really thoughtful, thorough job.

If anyone wants to get together to study let me know!

I was driving around Queens and decided to go to the city. I got on a the ramp to one of the highways but it seemed really unfamilar. I kept on driving but I soon realized that I was going in the opposite direction than I wanted to. While I was driving I had the feeling that I would get into an accident soon. I eventually turned the car around. I started going in what I thought was the right direction, but it wasn't. I started to get very frustrated. I kept driving along what seemed like a bridge and all of a sudden I saw up ahead that the road had morphed into a loop like the track or a roller coaster or Hotwheels set. I was about the make the loop when I woke up.

This dream doesn't really come as a surprise as I've always been scared to drive into Manhattan so I never have. That, and I have anxiety that I'm going west when I should be going east or south when north when I get on a highway. I rarley discuss my vehicular/navigational inabilities in waking life (I don't like giving people the sense that I'm a bad driver which I am not!). At least I can get out my fears in my dreams. At least I know I won't judge myself lol.

I had this dream about a month ago, but was hesitant to post it for whatever reason. But now that I've become dry with dreams I figured I might as well.

The following poem is one I really like. It is pretty straight foward, but what I like most of it is its sound. The repetition of words and certain consonant sounds makes it very rhythmic and give it a nice flow. So here it is, enjoy.

Sex Without Love
Sharon Olds

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

A couple of days ago I took out the garbage. I was surprised at how heavy the recycling can felt as I dragged it across the driveway. When I opened the lid I saw, buried under a bag of old yellow pages, my beloved childhood doll house. Remnants of its lego furniture were at the bottom of the can. They were too gross to salvage. I was shocked and offended.

Earlier that day, I saw professor Tougaw walking across the quad.

That night I had the following (very short) dream..

I was in some kind of store that felt like a Toys R' Us. I was also on my cellphone. The person on the other line was professor Tougaw. It felt as though I was trying to sell him a toy doll house. The scene of the dream was like one of those split screens you see on tv sitcoms sometimes, where you can see the people on the telephone side by side. Not only did I see the prof., but I saw that he had a dream wife and a dream child. They were both pretty unpleasant. The little girl was a real brat, actually. She couldn't decide on which toy house she wanted. She didn't seem to want the one I was offering (the grimy house I had scavanged out of the trash). I remembered being annoyed.

Does that sound politically incorrect? I'm pretty positive it's impossible to be p.c. in dream regardless. Oh well.