Week 12 (End of Semester Reflections)

Which readings or course material did you find most interesting? Which did you find least interesting?

Of the various reading materials I found to be most interesting include Langston Hughes simple, yet elegant poem "Harlem (A Dream Deferred)." Another story I felt was exquisitely executed was Joyce Carol Oates "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" which in my opinion is practically built for a screen adaptation, though it already bares similarities to a 1986 Horror film by the name of "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer." And lastly I very much enjoyed the sign-language poetry, to think that there is an untapped source of poetry oblivious to the hearing community at large is quite astounding. As for the least appreciated works we've had to read, these would have to include Kate Chopin's monotonous "The Story of an Hour." A very dull and uninteresting tale of a woman in woe in lieu of her spouse's supposedly horrific death. That is the only tale I vehemently disliked during the entire semester.

Week 11 (Flash Fiction)

WHISKEY, ROCK, BATS

Bobby Joe Cameron, the star quarterback had been pestering daddy to let me go out with him for months. Today Daddy said yes.

"Where we going?" I asked buckling ...my seatbelt.

Taking a swig from a whiskey bottle he handed it to me and grinned. "It's a surprise."

I took a sip, grimacing as it burned its way down to my navel. Not wanting to act all prudish on my first date I took a bigger swig.

By the time we got to Shell Cave we were both giggling and stumbled just a little when we got out of the car. Bobby Joe grabbed a flashlight and pulled me inside the cave.

Seemed like we went a long way before Bobby Joe giggled again and said, "watch this". Picking up a rock he threw it at the ceiling.

Now Bobby Joe probably didn't know about that hole in the floor. And he probably didn't figure on them bats being so riled up over one little rock. He sure didn't know I had a deathly fear of bats.

Today's my sixteenth birthday and I died because of a bottle of whiskey, a rock and a bunch of bats.

Week 10 (Open Letter)

Dear Haters,

The fact that, regardless of what decade we are in, there are still people like you astounds me. I am taken aback by your unyielding pursuit to prohibit any type of change. I wish I was so involved in my beliefs. Ah, the fervent ramblings of the video game naysayer.

Of course, I would never deny that there are very bad things that happen in this world. Many people do bad things all of the time and yes some do play video games. Finding people that don’t play video games seems to be getting harder every day. Our gaming culture seems to be spreading further than we could have ever imagined it would.

And that is where you come in-the “concerned” masses fluttering to the nearest answer to why your children are so bad and why the world is so violent. The cycle continues as it always has. Our children are suffering at the hands of these immoral game publishers peddling their filth to our impressionable youth.

Hey, I get it. It’s always good to have a scapegoat to save you from any feelings of responsibility. After all, you’ve tried the whole parenting thing but who has the time, right? The kids are going to do what they’re going to do. All they are ever doing is playing those damn Gameboxes so that has to be the problem.

I picture your ancestors huddled around their televisions screaming at Elvis and all that darn gyration or playing rock albums backwards trying to decipher the messages that Satan was sending to their children. When I look back at those times it’s hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

With that in mind, I applaud you and encourage you to carry on with your crusade because the fact of the matter is that Elvis is still the King and rock n’ roll will never die. Maybe someday I will be able to tell my children about the days of the “video game debates” while they look back at me in disbelief.

And then we’ll all sit down together and throw down with some Halo 18.

Best of luck,

A Gamer.

Week 9 (Allegory)

Plato states that in our everyday lives, we get only a dim, superficial view of the external world. He compares this limited perception to the shadows items placed outside a cave would cast on a wall inside that cave. Everyday people are thus like people in that cave facing the wall, getting only this limited, monochromatic, two-dimensional view of the world "out there." In order to really see what things out there are like, what constitutes their essence or true being, we have to get up and go out of the cave.

In "The Matrix", the Keanu Reeves character (Neo) starts out being an everyday person, but it becomes evident to him over time (with the help of Laurence Fishburne) that something is wrong with his everyday experience. The scene where he has to decide which pill to take is somewhat like the decision we have to make in Platos understanding to turn around and face the actual world outside the cave (the world of being rather than appearance). Neo and the others living outside the Matrix try to bring enlightenment or knowledge to those inside by struggling against the agents, etc., just like a philosopher in Platos view is obligated to bring enlightenment to the cave-dweller.

Week 8 (Satirical News)

=============================
Black Friday Could Be Beige
=============================
A report from game industry watcher Max Vitoon predicts that Black Friday—the Friday shopalooza following Thanksgiving—might turn out to be beige this year.
“I’m calling for Beige Friday,” said Vitoon in a press conference last week. “All indicators are beige or possibly a desert tan, but definitely not black.”

Economic hue researchers were divided over this announcement, some suggesting that Vitoon was blind and stupid and others stating support for the unexpected color prediction.

“I’d love any earth tone shades,” commented Riley Minster of the Economic Institute of Redding.

Retailers, who look at Black Friday as the day they begin making profits for the year, were worried about the forecast. Some thought that Beige Friday could cut into sales by at least 12%.

“Who’s ever heard of Beige Friday?” said Kirin Kloss, a manager in a Waterbury toy store. “This doesn’t sound good at all. I think I have a headache.”

“Who decides this stuff, anyway?” complained Marsha Raminer, a clerk from New Jersey.

But Max Vitoon stands by his prediction, and furthermore he believes that Beige Friday will be better for the economy than last year’s Black Friday. “I’m planning on buying a Kinect, myself,” said Vitoon, “that is if any are still available. I just wish it would come in beige to go along with my living room décor.”

Week 7 (Response to spoken-word poetry and sign-language poetry)

How is spoken-word poetry similar and different from written forms of poetry?

Spoken word is nothing new. However, there is something to be said about the difference between poetry that is spoken aloud and meant to resonate in the moment, and verse that is written on paper which is meant to be scrutinized and interpreted. Poetry in its most classic sense was meant to be heard, not read. Poetry has existed since long before literacy was considered to be the norm. Poetry was a form of entertainment presented by performers in venues ranging from theatres filled with the common classes all the way to the courts of kings and queens. It was only as literacy became more common place that the written word became the standard of poetry. This is not to say that spoken word is any better than written word, or vice versa, but they should be seen in perspective. Todays spoken word artists, and the beat poets before them, are actually a return to the roots of poetry and the oral traditions that have been around since the dawn of civilization.

How is sign-language poetry similar and different from written poetry and spoken-word poetry?

Poetry uses various elements and devices, such as alliteration, rhythm, simile, metaphors, and onomatopoeia. Often poetry relies heavily on imagery and metaphors. In this sense, poetry and visual-manual (sign) language are somehow a natural complementarity. It uses specific language devices to maximise the significance of the poem, just as in the poetry of spoken languages, although the language devices are rather different from the rhymes and alliteration that are familiar to most hearing audiences. The metaphors and images used in sign language poems may also be different from those in spoken language poems. In general, though, the basic idea of maximising the message through specially heightened language is the same in poetry in all languages, whether signed or spoken.

Week 6 (Reviews)

Following on the heels of an album where he repudiated his past with his greatest backing band, Blood on the Tracks finds Bob Dylan, in a way, retreating to the past, recording a largely quiet, acoustic-based album. But this is hardly nostalgia -- this is the sound of an artist returning to his strengths, what feels most familiar, as he accepts a traumatic situation, namely the breakdown of his marriage. This is an album alternately bitter, sorrowful, regretful, and peaceful, easily the closest he ever came to wearing his emotions on his sleeve. That's not to say that it's an explicitly confessional record, since many songs are riddles or allegories, yet the warmth of the music makes it feel that way. As such, it's an affecting, unbearably poignant record, not because it's a glimpse into his soul, but because the songs are remarkably clear-eyed and sentimental, lovely and melancholy at once. Dylan made albums more influential than this, but he never made one better.

Week 5 (Concrete Poetry)

I
am
a very
special
shape I have
three points and
three lines straight.
Look through my words
and you will see, the shape
that I am meant to be. I'm just
not words caught in a tangle. Look
close to see a small triangle. My angles
add to one hundred and eighty degrees, you
learn this at school with your abc's. Practice your
maths and you will see, some other fine examples of me.

Week 4 (Plunderverse)

Holy Thursday, by William Blake

'Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two in red and blue and green:
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.

O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.

Source
—————————
Holy, their innocent faces,
Children walking, two in red and blue and green:
Beadles walked before, wands white as snow,
High dome, they like waters flow.

A multitude they seemed, flowers of London town!
Companies sit, radiance their own.
Hum of multitudes there, multitudes of lambs,
Little boys and girls, innocent hands.

A wind to heaven, the voice of song,
Thunderings seats among:
The aged men, guardians of poor.
Pity, you drive an angel from your door.

Week 3 (Poetic Inquiry)

THE EFFECT OF WATCHING TELEVISION

abyss

when I look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into me

renders my consciousness numb

my mind festers upon the images of the tube before me

my outward demeanor could be likened to some sort of vegetable

my mind traces the cornucopia of visuals laced in the programming 

what sort of effect has been influenced based on the action of the screen?



Week 2 (Lyric Analyzation)

Of war and peace the truth just twists

Its curfew gull just glides

Upon four-legged forest clouds

The cowboy angel rides

With his candle lit into the sun

Though its glow is waxed in black

All except when ’neath the trees of Eden

The lamppost stands with folded arms

Its iron claws attached

To curbs ’neath holes where babies wail

Though it shadows metal badge

All and all can only fall

With a crashing but meaningless blow

No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden

 

The savage soldier sticks his head in sand

And then complains

Unto the shoeless hunter who’s gone deaf

But still remains

Upon the beach where hound dogs bay

At ships with tattooed sails

Heading for the Gates of Eden

 

With a time-rusted compass blade

Aladdin and his lamp

Sits with Utopian hermit monks

Sidesaddle on the Golden Calf

And on their promises of paradise

You will not hear a laugh

All except inside the Gates of Eden

 

Relationships of ownership

They whisper in the wings

To those condemned to act accordingly

And wait for succeeding kings

And I try to harmonize with songs

The lonesome sparrow sings

There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden

 

The motorcycle black madonna

Two-wheeled gypsy queen

And her silver-studded phantom cause

The gray flannel dwarf to scream

As he weeps to wicked birds of prey

Who pick up on his bread crumb sins

And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden

 

The kingdoms of Experience

In the precious wind they rot

While paupers change possessions

Each one wishing for what the other has got

And the princess and the prince

Discuss what’s real and what is not

It doesn’t matter inside the Gates of Eden

 

The foreign sun, it squints upon

A bed that is never mine

As friends and other strangers

From their fates try to resign

Leaving men wholly, totally free

To do anything they wish to do but die

And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden

 

At dawn my lover comes to me

And tells me of her dreams

With no attempts to shovel the glimpse

Into the ditch of what each one means

At times I think there are no words

But these to tell what’s true

And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden

Source

 

 

The abstract poetry inspires a nightmarish vision. Each verse provides a separate description of a decaying society. Although the song's title seems to provide hope of paradise, there is no paradise in this Eden. Rather, the imagery evokes corruption and decay. Dylan's ominous delivery of the last line of each verse followed by a sour harmonica note emphasizes that this is an Eden to be avoided.

The lyrics describe others besides the narrator who are searching for truth in this false paradise. But the experiences that the characters endure are rendered meaningless at the end of each verse by the inevitable specter of the Gates of Eden.

Week 1 (Haiku and Limericks)

Haiku
In the midday heat
Mules seek shady carob trees
Man seeketh the beach

Limerick
Morrie knew he was going to die,
Every Tuesday Mitch would come on by.
Each Tuesday, they would talk,
Still, Morrie could not walk.
After each session, they'd say goodbye.
—————————————————————
Haiku is a good vehicle for capturing a single moment in time. This short, 17-syllable form, usually written in three lines with a 5-7-5 syllable count, focuses our attention on a single, insightful moment.

Composed of five lines, the limerick adheres to a strict rhyme scheme and bouncy rhythm, making it easy to memorize. Very few are serious, as the form isn't equipped to carry deeper thoughts or emotions.