(no subject)
Three days to go. I've been invested in this mammoth academic term paper insanity project for two weeks straight now and if I weren't so close to finished I do believe I would go insane. No,really.
I haven't seen a film lately or read a good book (HA!), though a buddy of mine lent me his copy of the Collected Poems of Ted Hughes today and I plan on getting through "Birthday Letters" before next week's jaunt over to Ireland. I've always been curious to read what he would say about Sylvia and I should have read it far earlier. I'm a bit nervous going in because I've always had a bit of a thing for Sylvia Plath, as much as one can really have a thing for a long-dead poet, and today my friend handed me the book and, minutes later, said, "You know, you never realize, but reading those poems, you just come to terms with the fact that she was absolutely nuts. We in the cultural studies/feminist/post-pc world tend to frown on this type of complicity with the "madwoman in the attic" mentality because of the role women have historically played in literature. We want to think, "no, maybe she wasn't crazy, or if she was, maybe she was driven to insanity". But sometimes, and I think this would certainly be true for Zelda Fitzgerald, sometimes they're just fucking nuts. Men and women alike. And trying to live a stable life, not to mention create works of art, is frighteningly difficult when you're dealing with a troubled person. I never say anything that ends with a true full stop, so I'll say that ended with a semicolon.
I'll be back in a few days. Maybe Saturday. We're finally getting broadband in our new place next week so all this stealing wireless tomfoolery will be through by then.
I haven't seen a film lately or read a good book (HA!), though a buddy of mine lent me his copy of the Collected Poems of Ted Hughes today and I plan on getting through "Birthday Letters" before next week's jaunt over to Ireland. I've always been curious to read what he would say about Sylvia and I should have read it far earlier. I'm a bit nervous going in because I've always had a bit of a thing for Sylvia Plath, as much as one can really have a thing for a long-dead poet, and today my friend handed me the book and, minutes later, said, "You know, you never realize, but reading those poems, you just come to terms with the fact that she was absolutely nuts. We in the cultural studies/feminist/post-pc world tend to frown on this type of complicity with the "madwoman in the attic" mentality because of the role women have historically played in literature. We want to think, "no, maybe she wasn't crazy, or if she was, maybe she was driven to insanity". But sometimes, and I think this would certainly be true for Zelda Fitzgerald, sometimes they're just fucking nuts. Men and women alike. And trying to live a stable life, not to mention create works of art, is frighteningly difficult when you're dealing with a troubled person. I never say anything that ends with a true full stop, so I'll say that ended with a semicolon.
I'll be back in a few days. Maybe Saturday. We're finally getting broadband in our new place next week so all this stealing wireless tomfoolery will be through by then.