(no subject)
IV
She says, "I am content when wakened birds,
Before they fly, test the reality
Of misty fields, by their sweet questionings;
But when the birds are gone, and their warm fields
Return no more, where, then, is paradise?''
There is not any haunt of prophecy,
Nor any old chimera of the grave,
Neither the golden underground, nor isle
Melodious, where spirits gat them home,
Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palm
Remote on heaven's hill, that has endured
As April's green endures; or will endure
Like her remembrance of awakened birds,
Or her desire for June and evenings, tipped
By the consummation of the swallow's wings.
V
She says, "But in contentment I still feel
The need of some imperishable bliss.''
Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths,
The path sick sorrow took, the many paths
Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love
Whispered a little out of tenderness,
She makes the willow shiver in the sun
For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze
Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.
She causes boys to pile new plums and pears
On disregarded plate. The maidens taste
And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.
Things in my life have been surprisingly good. I mean, I have my bad moments, I always have and always will, but that's just the way things work, and I'm learning to accept that and move on rather than dwelling on them. I cry to Rilo Kiley a lot, it does that to me, but I think that's okay.
I modeled Friday night, taking up a good chunk of my day. But I got to have big hair and wear eyeliner and eyeshadow and have a really pissed off walk in honor of my grunge clothing. I then proceeded to go to my first ever.... Frat Party. DKE. Yeah, I know. Whatever. It was almost fun........
Last night consisted of drinks like the Dirty Shirley and the Blue Whale and the Grizzly Man, which we made up and which was different each time they gave it to us. Figures.
So, this is my incredibly college life.
Luckily it goes on hold for a week soon. The Quarter is almost over.
Tomorrow I assemble my final Precarious Forms project, an installation consisting of a ribbon-knit tent with an enclosed chair on a floor made from layers of burlap with digial projections of a felt treescape. It, too, is exploring the gender of materials in the context of childhood introspection. (It's better just not to ask.) Then I write a paper for Hum (like the last one which was the most incoherent thing of my life and got a B+), debate for Genocide and write another seven page paper, and I'm done. All by next Tuesday afternoon.
Yikes.