"I am truly looking forward to being subsumed with you deeply within the spiritual / affective / cognitive / physical domains."
_____excerpt from an email from a special man
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Free Entry - Week 4 - A Memoir - Milking the Cow
One hot, humid July afternoon in 1965, I squatted unhappily beside Sukey, our cow. As the first squirts of milk fell, making a tinny sound in the metal bucket, my thoughts flowed as freely as Sukey's milk.
I cannot believe I have to do something this low and demeaning. My best friend, Sandra, never has to do anything like this. I hope nobody I know drives by.
As I sat milking and feeling sorry for myself for being a farmer's daughter, the smell of freshly mown grass
permeated the air. Sukey shifted from one foot to another and gently swished her tail to swat flies from her undulating reddish-brown coat. Sweat beads built up and rolled down my face and the cleavage trapped in my bra. The bucket was almost full. Soon I'd be free to take a bath and scrub the cow tit smell from my hands for my date with Bob. I felt positive that he'd never ask me out again if he could see me in this embarrassing situation.
With no warning, Sukey's tail switched violently and caught in the wire mesh rollers in my hair, leaving half the rollers entangled in her coarse, smelly, shitty tail. Sukey was the victim of a huge horsefly bite. This event set off a chain reaction which included Sukey stepping in the brimming bucket of milk, thereby spilling its contents, my producing a near blood-curdling scream of total exasperation and frustration., followed by my mother dashing out the back door to see what was causing all the commotion.
"What happened?"
"That dumb old cow just jerked out my rollers with her gross tail, stepped in the bucket, and spilled the milk! This is so unfair!"
Mother thought the whole scene was hilarious and collapsed onto the grass in a fit of hysterics. Her infectious laughter broke down my defenses, and I too dissolved in tears and laughter. The absurdity of the situation provided much-needed levity and release from the mundane monotony of another day on the farm.
I cannot believe I have to do something this low and demeaning. My best friend, Sandra, never has to do anything like this. I hope nobody I know drives by.
As I sat milking and feeling sorry for myself for being a farmer's daughter, the smell of freshly mown grass
permeated the air. Sukey shifted from one foot to another and gently swished her tail to swat flies from her undulating reddish-brown coat. Sweat beads built up and rolled down my face and the cleavage trapped in my bra. The bucket was almost full. Soon I'd be free to take a bath and scrub the cow tit smell from my hands for my date with Bob. I felt positive that he'd never ask me out again if he could see me in this embarrassing situation.
With no warning, Sukey's tail switched violently and caught in the wire mesh rollers in my hair, leaving half the rollers entangled in her coarse, smelly, shitty tail. Sukey was the victim of a huge horsefly bite. This event set off a chain reaction which included Sukey stepping in the brimming bucket of milk, thereby spilling its contents, my producing a near blood-curdling scream of total exasperation and frustration., followed by my mother dashing out the back door to see what was causing all the commotion.
"What happened?"
"That dumb old cow just jerked out my rollers with her gross tail, stepped in the bucket, and spilled the milk! This is so unfair!"
Mother thought the whole scene was hilarious and collapsed onto the grass in a fit of hysterics. Her infectious laughter broke down my defenses, and I too dissolved in tears and laughter. The absurdity of the situation provided much-needed levity and release from the mundane monotony of another day on the farm.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Reading Response - Week 4 - Writing Poetry - Chapter 6 - By Chad Davidson and Gregory Fraser
I chose this chapter because it gives so many helpful suggestions for writing and critiquing poetry. It made me more aware of the importance of explaining the reasons for a particular assessment. Just saying that you liked or disliked the piece is not helpful without explaining why.
Giving objective reasons for an assessment helps alleviate hurt feelings in the writer. Hurt feelings cause anxiety about sharing and can cripple the creative process.
I liked what Asinov said about writers falling into two camps:
"1. Those who bleed copiously and visibly at any bad review and
2. Those who bleed copiously and secretly at any bad review."
The most helpful workshop concentrates more on objective bases than on subjective bases. Affective reasoning is one of the biggest perils in critiquing poetry.
Poems need to be assessed on their own merit, and students need to be able to provide their own interpretations rather than to expect the meaning to be delivered to them. Poems will have different meanings to unique individuals.
Whether we speak of the author or the critic, the melding of the creative faculties resides at the heart of the culture of the workshop.
Giving objective reasons for an assessment helps alleviate hurt feelings in the writer. Hurt feelings cause anxiety about sharing and can cripple the creative process.
I liked what Asinov said about writers falling into two camps:
"1. Those who bleed copiously and visibly at any bad review and
2. Those who bleed copiously and secretly at any bad review."
The most helpful workshop concentrates more on objective bases than on subjective bases. Affective reasoning is one of the biggest perils in critiquing poetry.
Poems need to be assessed on their own merit, and students need to be able to provide their own interpretations rather than to expect the meaning to be delivered to them. Poems will have different meanings to unique individuals.
Whether we speak of the author or the critic, the melding of the creative faculties resides at the heart of the culture of the workshop.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
"Improv"-ing / imitation - Week 4
I chose the sample workshop poem we worked on in class.
All the hype and duffel bags dumped,
I x-ed our gear off lists with tiny crossbones
in a khaki baggage detail with twenty other Joes.
Laid out on the hangar floor warped in summer,
a battalion's worth of socks, can openers,
rubbers, transparent bars of deodorant,
hunting magazines, photos of children on boats.
Then off to Maine, Ireland, then Germany,
and finally Kuwait, from where Chinooks
buzzed us into the heart of Mesopotamia
and our own unreal translations of glory.
****************************************
My Imitation
All the shopping and sewing done,
Fall wardrobe packed in red American Tourister luggage,
Along with a Quarter's worth of Ice Blue Secret Deodorant,
Tampax, Revlon Touch and Glow make-up, peppermint stick lipstick,
Brush rollers, Aqua Net Hair Spray, and a photo of my high school sweetheart.
Then off through Buena Vista, Manchester, Warm Springs, Newnan and
Finally Carrollton, into the heart of West Georgia College.
I lugged my red suitcase up the steps into Adamson Dorm
And my own surreal journey to a college education.
All the hype and duffel bags dumped,
I x-ed our gear off lists with tiny crossbones
in a khaki baggage detail with twenty other Joes.
Laid out on the hangar floor warped in summer,
a battalion's worth of socks, can openers,
rubbers, transparent bars of deodorant,
hunting magazines, photos of children on boats.
Then off to Maine, Ireland, then Germany,
and finally Kuwait, from where Chinooks
buzzed us into the heart of Mesopotamia
and our own unreal translations of glory.
****************************************
My Imitation
All the shopping and sewing done,
Fall wardrobe packed in red American Tourister luggage,
Along with a Quarter's worth of Ice Blue Secret Deodorant,
Tampax, Revlon Touch and Glow make-up, peppermint stick lipstick,
Brush rollers, Aqua Net Hair Spray, and a photo of my high school sweetheart.
Then off through Buena Vista, Manchester, Warm Springs, Newnan and
Finally Carrollton, into the heart of West Georgia College.
I lugged my red suitcase up the steps into Adamson Dorm
And my own surreal journey to a college education.
Response to Osa's Journal - Week 4
I thought your response to David Madden's reading from Abducted By
Circumstance was excellent. Since I have never studied drama, I learned
much from what you wrote. Now I know why I was so mesmerized by his
delivery. You educated me on various drama techniques such as vocal
manipulation, inflection, timed pause, and posture changes.
Thank you for pointing out how he achieved sound manipulation by stepping towards and away from the microphone. Your description of how he created different voices by shifting the pitch and tone of his voice and inserting subtle different accents was enlightening. I enjoyed reading your informative and well-written response.
Thank you for pointing out how he achieved sound manipulation by stepping towards and away from the microphone. Your description of how he created different voices by shifting the pitch and tone of his voice and inserting subtle different accents was enlightening. I enjoyed reading your informative and well-written response.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Response to Morgan's Journal - Week 4
I really liked this poem, Morgan. It brought back poignant memories of
the passionate love that my paternal grandparents shared since the day
they eloped when he was 17 and she was only 14. I don't remember seeing
them dance, but whenever the family gathered, they sat close holding
hands, smiling proudly at the children and grandchildren brought to life
by their union. I had thought that they were really old, but it just
occurred to me that they were still in their sixties. My grandfather
died when he was 70. My God! I am in my sixties, and I don't feel old!
I remember that Grandmother asked me to spend the night with her on the
day he died She cried and told me that he "loved" her every night. I
wonder what exactly she meant by that!
Calistenics - Week 4
"He ripped my heart into pieces and devoured my poor, poisoned soul."
*********************************************************
"With a quick peck on the cheek, instead of his usual passionate goodnight kiss, he sucked the joy from my soul. Before he left, he said, 'Take care,' and I knew it was over."
*********************************************************
"With a quick peck on the cheek, instead of his usual passionate goodnight kiss, he sucked the joy from my soul. Before he left, he said, 'Take care,' and I knew it was over."
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