spring and death
in two hours, i will leave for arizona for some road trip, marijuana, grand canyon, basketball, sunshine, open mic, hiking, best friends, jam session mix. don't know when i'll be back.
we're having poetry class outside today. it's funny to me because last semester i asked my creative writing professor if we could have class outside and he said something to the effect of: "i think i did that once about 25 years ago, and i haven't done it since." thus, i'm getting two intricately different perspectives on how to write. why do i still struggle so much with it?
i have a couple of ideas for some short stories, which i'll attempt to realize over the break. poetry... short stories... it's tough to choose between the two. in actuality, i could always do both, but as far as obtaining my useless degree in something, i can't seem to decide. nor can i ever decide when i pick up a pen or sit at a computer.
Since I have nothing to do for the next 45 minutes, the following masterpieces from my European Novel class are must-reads (doesn't my having just read them over the past two months and written about them in a pseudo-scholarly manner make me the fucking expert)
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (1605)
Candide by Voltaire (1759)
The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy (1886)
Death in Venice by Thomas Mann (1912)
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka (1916)
Some of them are pretty obvious, yeah, but I figured I'd list them all in case anyone is up for a discussion before I smoke away the details.
we're having poetry class outside today. it's funny to me because last semester i asked my creative writing professor if we could have class outside and he said something to the effect of: "i think i did that once about 25 years ago, and i haven't done it since." thus, i'm getting two intricately different perspectives on how to write. why do i still struggle so much with it?
i have a couple of ideas for some short stories, which i'll attempt to realize over the break. poetry... short stories... it's tough to choose between the two. in actuality, i could always do both, but as far as obtaining my useless degree in something, i can't seem to decide. nor can i ever decide when i pick up a pen or sit at a computer.
Since I have nothing to do for the next 45 minutes, the following masterpieces from my European Novel class are must-reads (doesn't my having just read them over the past two months and written about them in a pseudo-scholarly manner make me the fucking expert)
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (1605)
Candide by Voltaire (1759)
The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy (1886)
Death in Venice by Thomas Mann (1912)
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka (1916)
Some of them are pretty obvious, yeah, but I figured I'd list them all in case anyone is up for a discussion before I smoke away the details.