Patrick Lane was in workshop this morning. Some good stuff went around. I liked his "honest" approach -- to say it like it is. I am finding workshops terribly dreary these days though. "I think that the characters should be more fleshed out. I think that there are too many adjectives. I think that there should be a reason for this poem. I think that the last part of the poem should be the first."
Shit. Something I fought against all odds to get into, and now I'm like, "shit, dog. Where's the money you big ugly buffoon?" And the buffoon goes, "You're the buffoon. I don't even exist. You're the one getting a writing degree." "That's right. I needed an alter ego to remind myself that my alter ego isn't a buffoon. How could I have misplaced my pancakes?"
Pancakes. PANCAKES?
I need to write a three page film essay on "Nowhere in Africa." I'm going to try and tackle the feminization of Blacks in Hollywood style narratives; how Blacks are only allowed into the household if they take up feminine roles, such as cooking, or culturally becoming a woman to the white man. I got a Malcolm X speech called, "I am a field negro," where he talks about the house negro, or house nigger, as loving the master more than the master loves himself. A lot of the speech doesn't apply to Nowhere in Africa, and if it does, it's a bit of a stretch, as Malcolm is going on about Blacks in America, and "Nowhere in Africa" is a German film about Germans in Africa. However, the film is very Hollywood and modern. It even won an Oscar, so there's some echoeing going around. I just got to find out what the echo is bouncing off of.
Huzzah!
I think I got a new poem. Elliott Smith reached out of my headphones and shocked my ears. Almost literally. It really hurt my ears. I had to get the pizza girl to throw them (the headphones, not the ears) away for me. The other pizza girl suggested that I write to the headphone company and get sweet headphones. I didn't feel like telling her it was Elliott Smith who had shocked me, and that he was dead.
Posted by matty-b at February 23, 2005 1:32 PMPancakes with mint chocolate chips are brill.
Your alter ego needs an alter ego? Keep piling them on.
Posted by: ben at February 23, 2005 3:02 PMI believe I'm my alter-egos alter-ego, though I'm not supposed to be aware of that. But I got this guy nailed -- I know anything I want to about him.
Naruda dreamed about the dreamer, and the dreamer dreamed of Naruda.
Posted by: m at February 23, 2005 8:16 PM