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Literature week 11

This is a creative piece I wrote called Saturday Night - Coming Home From the Cross.

The sensation of the concrete pounding beneath my bare feet sends shocks through my entire body. The bus is there and the doors are about to close, but we’ve had an incredible amount to drink, and I have this burning sensation from wearing heels for too long. My eye-makeup has bled and smudged, and my lipstick all faded. I look trashy – but not too bad considering how long this night has been. All the other drunks around us are running for the bus too and it creates a huge crowd of people trying to push through the tiny bus doors. Chivalry is dead. Guys shove girls out of the way just so they can get a seat. Jerks. The back of my dress ends up around my waist because of the push – this is where the crushing crowd comes in handy. The guy behind me was covering me so no one saw my undies. I feel extremely smothered and insignificant, like there are so many people in my personal space that they take up more of it than I do, but it also feels familiar. I pay for my ticket to Sutherland, but I end up holding up the cue because I can’t get my change out of my tiny bag. It’s not like there are any seats left anyway so get over it. I’m standing in the isle, with my shoes on now – probably a bad idea because standing on a bus in stilettos never has a good outcome. I’m standing between a tall skinny guy, and a short skinny guy, so if this bus stops, starts, turns or does anything suddenly, I will probably fall flat on the floor and not be able to get up. But that didn’t happen so don’t worry. My friends boyfriend starts talking to me about his trip to Europe, but I’m too tired and concentrating on not falling over so I don’t hear very much of it. Just smile and nod, and say “Oh ok, Cool!” That always works. We get to Arncliffe and someone gets off and praise the gods I get to the seat first. We’re sitting on a three seater towards the front. My friend and I are on the two ends and there is a guy between us. The entire way I try not to make eye contact with him, and him with me, because you just don’t look people straight in the face when you’re sitting next to them and don’t know them. I don’t know why, you just don’t. I have a feeling the bus driver is punishing us all for being drunk 20-something-year-olds because he is driving like a maniac. I hate having to hold on to the metal bag cage next to me – because who knows where the passengers before me have had their hands - but if I don’t I’m going to land on the guy next to me. From what I can see out of my peripheral vision he looks cute, and pretty built, but I still don’t want to land on him. My friend and her boyfriend get off at Mortdale and I’ve still got a lifetime to go until I get to Sutherland. The bus is practically empty but the guy next to me doesn’t move to an empty seat, so I totter off to one towards the back. It’s more comfortable sitting on my own but what the $&#! was I thinking? I’m freezing now! Shaking in my heels! I should have dealt with the discomfort of sitting next to a stranger on an empty bus just for the simple fact that it was warmer. I desperately would love to lean against the window and go to sleep, but there is this big round grease patch right where my head should go  - no doubt it is the leftovers from an over-gelled male head. Stay awake, just go to sleep when you get home. I’m at Sutherland, waiting for a cab and shivering even more than before. A taxi skids around the corner –literally because the road is wet, and sees me. Should I really get in a car with a crazy driver? I just want to go to bed, and sleep comes before safety in times like these. I really wish taxi drivers would quit with the small talk. I know it’s 4am and you’re totally bored because you have the worst job in the world, but I don’t really feel like talking right now. Cronulla sweet Cronulla I’m home. Have you ever tried to walk up to the fourth floor of an apartment building when you are so tired, and so sore, and experiencing the after-effects of “happy hour till 1am”? If so then you will know that it is really difficult. More so than I had expected. I can’t get my damn key in the lock, because the damn lock is loose. Damn landlord. Damn you! I get over that because it’s actually not his fault that I’m somewhat uncoordinated at the moment. I stumble inside and my cat is asleep on the couch (my boyfriend wont be happy because he says all the cat hair is going to drive him so crazy that he’ll end up in a straight jacket one day – how dramatic). Bed sweet Bed, it’s 4:30 am and we were supposed to meet hours ago! Being united with ones true love is bliss. And you can’t tell me that your bed isn’t your true love, because it is everyone’s. I hate alcohol and hangovers and the night ride and I’m never putting myself through that again… until next weekend. 

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Literature week 10

Juno       Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,

   Long continuance and increasing,

   Hourly joys be still upon you!

  Juno sings her blessings on you.

Ceres     Earths increase, and foison plenty,

  Barns and garners never empty,

 Vines with clust’ring bunches growing,

 Plants with goodly burden bowing;

 Spring come to you at the farthest,

 In the very end of harvest.

 Scarcity and want shall shun you,

 Ceres’ blessing so is on you.

(The Tempest 4.1. 106-117)

 

This week during our tut we looked at this section of The Tempest and in particular the entrance of the spirits Juno and Ceres. Juno represents motherhood and fertility and marriage, while Ceres  represents the union of earth and sky.  I love how ornate this part of the play is. These two characters add musicality and their dialogue is full of abundance – e.g. riches, increasing, plenty, vines with clust’ring bunches growing. I love the imagery that Shakespeare provides with this, and I also love the fact that this idea of abundance of nature and is so prominent in the 17th Century!! It is key to understanding the nature of this time and it’s literature. It says a lot about what people desired, and what artists considered important. The New World was being discovered, but Shakespeare would rather think about love and nature and the richness and abundance of the two – because that is real wealth, of the soul, and owning more and than the next guy is not.

Another important part of this speech is the way it is laid out on the page. It is continuous, but spoken by two different characters. This really demonstrates the way that Shakespeare used every aspect of writing and language in his work. It is subtle, but so important. The continuation from Juno to Ceres provides harmony and an importance on communication, as part of the characterization of Juno and Ceres. This is then reiterated as Ferdinand says immediately after:

“This is a most majestic vision, and

Harmonious chanrmingly. May I be bold

To think these spirits?”

This part of The Tempest reminds me a lot of Ovid’s the Golden Age. I think the desire for the ‘Golden Age’ during the 17th Century was pretty common, as they were facing industrialism. Interesting how it was a common theme though!!

One other thing I might add, is that when I’m studying something, there are always little reminders of it here and there. It’s really bazaar, like on my way to uni there is a road called Juno road, and I watched the movie Juno recently (which actually makes a whole lot more sense when you know who Juno is!!). This sort of thing happens a lot – it’s fun J. Does this happen to anyone else??

Here is the movie poster for Juno, and a sculpture of Ceres at the Vatican.



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Literature week 9

As I was re-reading my lecture notes for week 9, the common theme for this week was Calliban in Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’. We discussed Calliban as the white to Prospero’s black, as the nature to Prospero’s nurture.
So what is Shakespeare trying to tell us through Calliban? What exactly does he represent? Is he supposed to be the ideal? The pure? Or is he the immoral beast? His language is poetry but he is not the ‘noble savage’. Or is he? Is he just being himself in all his complete untainted-by-the-renaissance glory as he tries to take advantage of Miranda?
I’m not 100% sure, but one thing I understand about this play is there is a common theme about acceptance. Accepting differences in people, and doing so without imposing your own expectations, and with acceptance comes forgiveness.
Humanity our connection to nature, as well as our innate need for society are explored deeply in ‘The Tempest’.
Whenever I think of ‘The Tempest’ I am reminded of Pocahontas. They enter the New World, by sea and attempt to overpower the natives. They consider themselves more ‘civilised’ and put themselves at the top of an imposed hierarchy. This seems to be a recurring theme throughout history!!
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Literature week 8

ok so this is either my 5th or 6th attempt at posting this entry, so all the fancy-ness (pictures and video's i've been trying to upload) will have to wait - because if my computer crashes again I may have to throw it out of my 4th floor window!!!!!!!

I think it’s worth sharing that because of this Literature course of ours, I have poetry on the brain CONSTANTLY. Not only poetry offcourse, all writing, but I love the musicality of poetry. I feel that the doorway that allows creative things into my mind is constantly open, and a lot wider than those who do not share in our experience (no offence to them). If you are one of my classmates, then I am sure you would agree with me when I say there are not enough of you – us – in the world, at this point in time. I would like to know why artists are no longer newsworthy? Where are they? Why don’t people who aren’t necessarily creative themselves, allow themselves to be a part of this so-called ‘artworld’? I was mistaken when I thought we were all part of the same world. We are not. There are lots of little worlds, and if we’re lucky we get to be a part of a good one. We are lucky. Anyway, my little rant went on quite a tangent (as they usually do) but I want to spend this entry paying homage to my favourite poets (and songwriters) and writers, past and present, because I feel it is necessary.
Bob Dylan
All Along The Watchtower
"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.


Jack Kerouc:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_MjPtem6ZbE

Tom Gabel:
(I tried to remove all swearing for the sake of our LJ criteria – doesn’t have quite the same impact, but that’s ok)
Anna Is A Stool Pigeon :
Eric, Ren and Jensen were activists
Heads loaded with theory, their hearts are filled with passion
Shared the same left wing politics
Liked the same music, they were part of the protest movement
Now, Anna presented herself as a feminist
Studied the way they talked and dressed
Fashioned herself an anarchist
Eric fell in love with Anna at the meeting of the crime think conference
He didn't know it but Anna was an FBI informant

Eric fell in love with an FBI informant
Shared his dreams of revolution
Now he's sitting in solitary confinement
Be careful what you think
Be careful what you say
It might be used against you in court one day
Well Anna thinks she's a hawk
She's just a ------- snitch

The headlines called them the believers
Comparisons were made to a terrorist organization
Well Anna had the car, Anna paid the rent
Anna helped find the recipe to make the explosives
She encouraged her friends to follow through with their plans
They were gonna build a bomb and blow up the Nimbus Dam
Their conversations were being recorded
They didn't know it but Anna was an FBI informant

Eric fell in love with an FBI informant
Shared his dreams of revolution
Now he's sitting in solitary confinement
Be careful what you think
Be careful what you say
It might be used against you in court one day
Well Anna thinks she's a hawk
She's just a ------- snitch

Black suburbans and AR-15 rifles
Agents made their arrests in a K-Mart parking lot
Caught with the supplies for the bomb in hand
The three were charged with conspiracy against the government
Ren and Jensen traded testimony in exchange for leniency
Eric was sentenced to twenty years in the penitentiary
Eric, Ren and Jensen were activists
They didn't know it but Anna was an FBI informant

Eric fell in love with an FBI informant
Shared his dreams of revolution
Now he's sitting in solitary confinement
Be careful what you think
Be careful what you say
It might be used against you in court one day
Well Anna thinks she's a hawk
She's just a ------- snitch

Allan Ginsberg:


William Shakespeare:
“…O fearful meditation! Where, alack,
Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid,
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?...”
(extract from sonnet 65)

Nikolai Gogol :
The Overcoat

This list goes on…
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Literature Comment week 7

 Here is my comment on Alexandra's LJ. It can be found at  http://davidoff22.livejournal.com/10539.html?view=9771#t9771

wow alex you have such a creative brain!!! i really enjoyed reading this :D and the pictures were a great accompaniment. Your piece of prose is so pregnant (as shakespeare would say) with images of nature and the bitterness as well as the sweetness of humanity - what we destroy, what we create, and what we have the ability to appreciate.

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Literature Week 7

The depths of a world,
of which I'll never be,
Leave me breathless, and blind,
and yet it's all I can see.

You swallow people whole,
and spit out their bones;
They forget that time spent with you,
is only on short loan.

Your song gently lures,
soul upon soul,
With the salty air you push through us,
and blue diamonds that ever roll.



This is a poem I wrote - so far.

Here is the beautiful beach where I live - my inspiration. 


(Please do not copy this image as it is my own, and is part of an art work)
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Comment on LJ week 6

 This my comment on Rob Reilly's LJ. The url is http://reilly88.livejournal.com/17338.html
Reilly this was really interesting to read! I tend to avoid reading the longer entries in peoples journals, but the photo of your Great-Great-Grandfather caught my eye. Firstly I would love to know how you found all this out?? It sounds like you must have a great family that is fond of telling stories. I love the part about the crocodiles in Manly dam, how very courageous! This is a great story. Very engaging. You should keep writing it!
 
Posted on Apr. 3rd, 2009 09:22 am (UTC) Link Thread Reply Delete Track This
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Literature week 6

Here's a poem i wrote this week.
The language is really simple but poetry isn't really a strength for me, so it is what it is.


Your fluoro singlet makes me cringe
and the pills on which you binge
ruin what should be fun.
But what is fun about all these annoying people, and the hot hot sun?

You contradict everything you say
“Alcohol is not the way”
You think that it’s unhealthy
when these pills rot your brain, and make some loser wealthy.

My anger, it acts as a disguise
as my worry is on the rise
how can you take for granted
this life that is so fragile, after the card that you were handed?

I really love you dearly
why cant I say it clearly?
It doesn’t matter anyway
You never stop to listen to what anyone has to say.




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Comment on LJ week 5

This is my week 5 comment on Jessica's LJ. The URL is: http://jessicailacqua.livejournal.com/11097.html

Apr. 3rd, 2009 09:36 am (UTC)
Comment on Lj
Wow Jess! What a great poem! I think this is something people try to avoid thinking about. I always imagine what it would be like if I’d never seen anything before. It would be like having your eyes shut constantly. Could you imagine that? Eyes shut for 24 hours a day x 7 x 365 x your ENTIRE life?? I can’t, it’s a scary thought. Oh and I loved the layout with shorter lines but more stanzas. Anyways, thanks for reminding me and making me think ☺ that is what poetry should achieve.
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Literature week 5

We flicked ever so gently through the rough, thick pages of the books in the Shakespeare room. They would have been over 100 years old. The room was so delicately and intricately designed, with hand carved ceilings and walls. It was tiny, tinier than I had expected, but I suppose books don’t take up that much space – not even Shakespeare’s. It felt as though we had stepped into a time warp as we stepped over the threshold from the 21st Century, to the Renaissance. Small, but small doesn’t equal ineffective.
We wandered from there, through the marble hall and entered the Mitchell Library. I turned to Janelle and we both had our mouths open in a state of awe. Now that I think about it that would have been funny to see. We were turning in all directions, trying to soak up all that there was to see. I’d never seen anything like it! As I’m sure you can tell, this was my first time in any other part than the exhibition space of the State Library. The largest Library I’d ever been to was the one at uni, and that’s not beautiful in the slightest. In the Mitchell library there were 3 split levels full of books. Unfortunately venturing up to these levels is not allowed… for fear that people will jump off?? why would you do that in a library??
From there we entered a small dark room with rows of old wooden chairs. A strange librarian gave us a tutorial on how to use the library website and database – useful but not very memorable. The tour was boring, until she took us to the basement where they keep the books. It was dark and cold down there, and the shelves were like a maze. Amanda told me some funny story – so naturally we laughed – and then as we walked around the corner everyone looked at us as though we had done something wrong! Strange… unnecessary.
I missed the Art Gallery part of the excursion because I had another class in the afternoon, but I’ve been there a thousand times so I wasn’t too fussed.
I took a lot of photos, but I can’t find the computer cable ☹.
To finish… It was fun ☺.

(someone was brave and did the run to the island)


Heres a little poem i wrote, it's only one stanza, just for fun:

The stench stings my nose
My cat vomited in the bathtub.
The rips in my sister’s carpet - it shows
I’m better off escaping to the pub.