The Brothers Karamazov
Alyosha, Dmitri, Ivan.
i havent met Ivan so well yet. it must happen sometime i think. but he is last. the crime has occured, the tale is in the middle of a group of boys.
i really love Dostoevsky. when i was a Junior, and my family life and sense of morality was in complete turmoil, we read Crime and Punishment in my ap english class with mr plughoff. the book was exhausting, and i followed it fully into a state of existentialism and depression. since then, ive always considered it one of my favorite books because of its great power, its intimate psychological feeling. this time, the same effect has taken place, but in different ways. fortunately not existential depression, but instead i relate to different characters psychologically. and ive even learned new things, ideas about spirituality i hadnt considered before. dmitri gives me flashes to my last year in chicago, the mania and 'passion,' and alyosha and his relationship with father zossima have inspired new ideas and feelings about caring for others. their beliefs grow from christianity and the bible at its core, where it can really be impressive, and not so much as the history of how its been acted upon. but i guess, as monks in a monastary, like buddhist monks, and 'good' ones at that, they are exploring true goodness in being, morality and respect for all other individuals. it kind of jolted me, in its purity. and its not a purity in the actions of life but in the learning from them, good and bad, and a mentality of compassion.
ivan, im not sure what i will learn from him. he is the intellectual so far, but his true character hasnt so much been revealed, other than his viewpoints on orthodoxy.
its a lot in the dialogue. the mass of the book is dialogue, mostly outer but some inner as well. i think this is how Dostoevsky gets to you, you are taken into the concious of the characters, absorbed into it by the overwhelming spoken mental processes. the way he breaks up speach, the way the characters repeat things over and over, certain words even that they use a lot. the repetition may be part of the key to it. i can't imagine being able to write so well that i convince a reader of a persons character so slowly and strongly, building it up so patiently. i even become impatient sometimes reading, wanting something new to happen and sick of dialogue. but i love it at the same time.
about today, myself, whatnot
i was awoken early by my period friend leaking out. i put in a pathetic little tampon i had, took some pills, and went back to sleep. i was hungover, from alcohol and fried chicken, and intented to sleep as long into the day as i desired. and then head to the studio. the next time i got up was when i knew the tampon had reached threshold and was leaking again. so i got up, changed it again, this time stealing a bigger one from the bathroom with one of those smooth applicators. then i got dressed and ate some toast. i felt like shit. no cramps, just very spaced out, foggy. i read some, took off my shoes and slept more. until 5 or so. i woke up and knew i didnt want to go to the studio anymore. i slept more until 7. now im reading and smoking, drinking diet pepsi with ice. i got two bags of small round tostitos corn chips and a tin of tostitos queso and here i am. occasionally snacking on shitfood and reading an amazing book. im not going to the party joanna invited me to. im not going to drink beer, and im not going to be up very late. im going to set my alarm to get up early in the morning, get a GOOD coffee (if i can find one) and set to work on my newborns.
the cheese is calling.
i havent met Ivan so well yet. it must happen sometime i think. but he is last. the crime has occured, the tale is in the middle of a group of boys.
i really love Dostoevsky. when i was a Junior, and my family life and sense of morality was in complete turmoil, we read Crime and Punishment in my ap english class with mr plughoff. the book was exhausting, and i followed it fully into a state of existentialism and depression. since then, ive always considered it one of my favorite books because of its great power, its intimate psychological feeling. this time, the same effect has taken place, but in different ways. fortunately not existential depression, but instead i relate to different characters psychologically. and ive even learned new things, ideas about spirituality i hadnt considered before. dmitri gives me flashes to my last year in chicago, the mania and 'passion,' and alyosha and his relationship with father zossima have inspired new ideas and feelings about caring for others. their beliefs grow from christianity and the bible at its core, where it can really be impressive, and not so much as the history of how its been acted upon. but i guess, as monks in a monastary, like buddhist monks, and 'good' ones at that, they are exploring true goodness in being, morality and respect for all other individuals. it kind of jolted me, in its purity. and its not a purity in the actions of life but in the learning from them, good and bad, and a mentality of compassion.
ivan, im not sure what i will learn from him. he is the intellectual so far, but his true character hasnt so much been revealed, other than his viewpoints on orthodoxy.
its a lot in the dialogue. the mass of the book is dialogue, mostly outer but some inner as well. i think this is how Dostoevsky gets to you, you are taken into the concious of the characters, absorbed into it by the overwhelming spoken mental processes. the way he breaks up speach, the way the characters repeat things over and over, certain words even that they use a lot. the repetition may be part of the key to it. i can't imagine being able to write so well that i convince a reader of a persons character so slowly and strongly, building it up so patiently. i even become impatient sometimes reading, wanting something new to happen and sick of dialogue. but i love it at the same time.
about today, myself, whatnot
i was awoken early by my period friend leaking out. i put in a pathetic little tampon i had, took some pills, and went back to sleep. i was hungover, from alcohol and fried chicken, and intented to sleep as long into the day as i desired. and then head to the studio. the next time i got up was when i knew the tampon had reached threshold and was leaking again. so i got up, changed it again, this time stealing a bigger one from the bathroom with one of those smooth applicators. then i got dressed and ate some toast. i felt like shit. no cramps, just very spaced out, foggy. i read some, took off my shoes and slept more. until 5 or so. i woke up and knew i didnt want to go to the studio anymore. i slept more until 7. now im reading and smoking, drinking diet pepsi with ice. i got two bags of small round tostitos corn chips and a tin of tostitos queso and here i am. occasionally snacking on shitfood and reading an amazing book. im not going to the party joanna invited me to. im not going to drink beer, and im not going to be up very late. im going to set my alarm to get up early in the morning, get a GOOD coffee (if i can find one) and set to work on my newborns.
the cheese is calling.