HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Thursday, November 20, 2008 am lit justin is always intrigued when i talk about the american literature class i'm taking, because it's the epitome of the liberal arts american studies class that he never got to take. it's a big class, 30-40 people in a lecture hall, it's crosslisted with government studies and american studies. despite the lecture-ness of it, our professor knows all our names. it's always feels like what i would think a town hall meeting would feel like--plenty of conversation despite the size of the class. sometimes it feels like a high school class, chalkboard scribbing, getting in groups of three, writing exercises at the start of class, historical contextualizations of each novel. you also find a plethora of accents--southern accents, a range of new york accents, desi-accents, spanish accents--around the room--in the beginning when someone heard a voice that sounded different, 20 heads in the front would turn around to try to match a face to that voice. eventually that stopped, because if you are a careful listener, everyone sounds different, and it is very tiring having to turn your head around everytime a person speaks (ie, every 1/2 a minute during the more vibrant discussions). also, everyone eventually started getting comfortable with the differences around the room, and differences stopped being cool. it was obnoxious, not maliciously so. our teacher is a berkeleyite, thus the uber-liberal spin--we started on the staples like the jungle, a hazard of new fortunes, toni morrison's song of solomon--it's like going to the soap opera, talking about absent fathers, racism, immigration. today we are reading lynda barry's graphic novel, one! hundred! demons!--filled with tagalog expletives, and dysfunctional characters. posted by dawn # 9:01 AM Comments: hello dear. am lit sounds so fascinating. my term's been so busy and yet so unproductive, i'm getting terrified that i'm a finalist but so crap at it. i owe you an email, i know. :) i'll get to it in a deadline. p.s. i've lost your number again! # posted by tanu : 2:48 AM (in case you can't tell, that was chit) # posted by tanu : 2:48 AM Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] break my hea-a-a-a-a-ar-t, break my heart Comus, 1787 on the verge of a trembling walking with grace little moment fannie and freddie ithaca consumed by the details of my life now. it mostly ... i have been stressed out. only just secured my sch... fireworks [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Thursday, November 20, 2008

am lit

justin is always intrigued when i talk about the american literature class i'm taking, because it's the epitome of the liberal arts american studies class that he never got to take. it's a big class, 30-40 people in a lecture hall, it's crosslisted with government studies and american studies. despite the lecture-ness of it, our professor knows all our names. it's always feels like what i would think a town hall meeting would feel like--plenty of conversation despite the size of the class. sometimes it feels like a high school class, chalkboard scribbing, getting in groups of three, writing exercises at the start of class, historical contextualizations of each novel. you also find a plethora of accents--southern accents, a range of new york accents, desi-accents, spanish accents--around the room--in the beginning when someone heard a voice that sounded different, 20 heads in the front would turn around to try to match a face to that voice. eventually that stopped, because if you are a careful listener, everyone sounds different, and it is very tiring having to turn your head around everytime a person speaks (ie, every 1/2 a minute during the more vibrant discussions). also, everyone eventually started getting comfortable with the differences around the room, and differences stopped being cool. it was obnoxious, not maliciously so. our teacher is a berkeleyite, thus the uber-liberal spin--we started on the staples like the jungle, a hazard of new fortunes, toni morrison's song of solomon--it's like going to the soap opera, talking about absent fathers, racism, immigration. today we are reading lynda barry's graphic novel, one! hundred! demons!--filled with tagalog expletives, and dysfunctional characters.

posted by dawn # 9:01 AM

Comments:

hello dear. am lit sounds so fascinating. my term's been so busy and yet so unproductive, i'm getting terrified that i'm a finalist but so crap at it. i owe you an email, i know. :) i'll get to it in a deadline. p.s. i've lost your number again!

# posted by

tanu : 2:48 AM

(in case you can't tell, that was chit)

# posted by

tanu : 2:48 AM