A Rant from San Francisco, backdated because of lack of computer access there
I do not wish to experience confinement in any way, especially in my writing. In high school, I wrote freely: some fiction, some nonfiction, some poetry, some prose. The topics I wrote on were mostly posed broadly, so I had much freedom of choice. In college, I am experiencing a different approach to writing. My instructors wish me to compare two main characters in the book we are discussing, or focus my attention to a specific area which is not of my interest. I do not wish to write such papers. I want to compare San Francisco to San Francisco Bay. I want to compare the Golden Gate Bridge with Alcatraz. Compare fog with Angel Island. Compare the ferry building with feeding ducks at the exploratiorium. I want to write about what my dorm room feels like. Getting new glasses, what I hate about Marian's Christmas party, all of Grandpa's coffee table books (He has at least 42). Finish my novel. Write about the Lubovichers who stopped me on the street to blow the Shofar on second day Rosh haShanah, which I do not consider necessary to celebrate. Write about the canned food drive. Write about how Ana and Jen make a cute couple. For credit! Now what's so wrongheaded about that? Don't answer, unless you really feel compelled.
I want to make another attempt at comparing two wonderful pieces of 1908: Jeune Fille Aux Yeux Verts, a painting of Henri Matisse, and Orpheus Eurydice, and Hermes, a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke (whose poetry all of you should read, he may be the best poet of the 20th century). Speaking of that specific powm, in the recent play of Metamrphosis, for that myth, the playwright has a cast member read Ovid's Orpheus, Eurydice, and Hermes, while other cast members act it out, followed in close succession by Rilke's poem of the same name. What a difference 1900 years make in details of a story!
Well, that's my rant for now. Excuse the fact that it is not organized. Blame my brain. (It has a mind of its own.)
I want to make another attempt at comparing two wonderful pieces of 1908: Jeune Fille Aux Yeux Verts, a painting of Henri Matisse, and Orpheus Eurydice, and Hermes, a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke (whose poetry all of you should read, he may be the best poet of the 20th century). Speaking of that specific powm, in the recent play of Metamrphosis, for that myth, the playwright has a cast member read Ovid's Orpheus, Eurydice, and Hermes, while other cast members act it out, followed in close succession by Rilke's poem of the same name. What a difference 1900 years make in details of a story!
Well, that's my rant for now. Excuse the fact that it is not organized. Blame my brain. (It has a mind of its own.)