523: Waylaid by Beauty...
I've been reading again. Most notably, lots of stuffy by and about Edna St. Vincent Millay. I seem to be falling in love with her--which is, admittedly, what Savage Beauty (biography by Nancy Milford) is all about: that everyone fell head-over-heels for her. I can't say I like the vaguely scornful light Milford portrays her in--but God! If ever there was a slut after my own heart, it was Millay. You go girl! *z-snap*
Of course, it does bother me that none of her fiction has been published, and even most of her non-canon poetry... and knowing me and my love of under-rated figures, if I did become an academic, I wouldn't hesitate to start championing her. (It's ironic, though, considering she was, at one point, the most popular American poet.)
I'm also working my way through Elizabeth Bishop again, and Ondaatje (The English Patient). Incredibly beautiful stuff. Also, I need to finish Orlando (Woolf) over Thanksgiving... and One Hundred Years of Solitude, if I can manage it. There's also some Roethke and Graves on my table, but it's questionable how much of them I'll get through...
Now that I'm reading again, I'm gonna start writing again. Makes sense. I realized that I'll never be able to do it if I don't read--there's just too much out there yet to touch, so I need to get quicker about it. The notes start coalescing again--for the first time all semester, I've actually had room to dream. Whatever made me so crazy before?
Reading Millay's Letters has also made me want to become a letter-writer of some repute--at least write better, more comprehensible letters to my aunt. Of course, no one can beat Flannery O'Connor as queen of letters, to my mind, but I can at least try for something between her clarity and Millay's flippancy.
This is all part of my attempt to regain my sanity--I can no longer copy-edit that damn QC, 'cause not only do I have no time, I have no energy, and it's been showing. I need the time to actually read and think. Otherwise, I'll never get anywhere, academically or literarily. (And if that's not a word, I just made it so).
This also means, maybe, I'll be able to actually do all my reading for classes, too, and write some decent essays again. I've been rather all-over-the-place in my English survey in this respect, sadly. Too much ambition, not enough of the necessary discipline. Over Thanksgiving I will also peruse Milton and what relevant epics I can in preparation for my final paper (which is on epics, duh). Hopefully I can talk to Furman-Adams about rewriting one of my other papers, so that maybe I can scrape out of this class with my head held at at least even level.
I know I'm skipping around here, but as to the QC: I just am not made to do school and write and edit that fucking newspaper. It's not that I'm bad at copyediting--but I doubt I am made for a career in journalism (I suck at deadlines). Also, I'm really there to try out a different kind of writing--and I have. And I've also leanred I'm not much of a journalistic writer, either. I suppose I could become good if I set my mind to it... but for the moment, what I'm at least more decent at are interviews and reviews. So I've got my views in place then...
But obviously, I'm looking forward to some vacation time. I really did wear myself out more than I needed to, but I'm the kind of person that, once I start something, I see it through to the bitter end.
On that note: yes, I'm still doing the radio show. I record it, but I haven't yet figured out how to get such files to where you can hear them. If anyone can advise me on this, it would be much appreciated; thanks!
Also also: here's the relevant Millay lyric, from "Assault" from Second April:
I
I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not so have ventured forth alone
At dusk upon this unfrequented road.
II
I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk
Between me and the crying of the frogs?
Oh, savage Beauty, suffer me to pass,
That am a timid woman, on her way
From one house to another!