Was going to write about Planet, poetry, re: Marianne Moore - I've been trying to get Planet to read poetry, with no success. Right now she's being forced to read Thomas Fucking Hardy's "Ruined Woman," an especially shitty poem even by Thomas Fucking Hardy's standards. I helped her with an essay on it last night. Jeebus, what a shitty poem on any and all levels. (She's had to read Thomas Fucking Hardy's Motherfucking Mayor of Motherfucking Casterbridge and Tess of the Fucking D'Urbervilles. She says her English teacher hates Thomas Fucking Hardy too, but MCPS teaches to the test, and AP English is chockful of Thomas Fucking Hardy.) To be honest, for this post, I hadn't got past the Thomas Fucking Hardy part yet, had already been distracted by something else shinier, more fun.
To be honest, I'm thinking how this could be turned into bleggalgazing - what is the etiquette for a fuck-up like this, leave an empty link? publish an unfinished post? I've haven't bonebleggaled much, much less directly, this month. I'm hopeful, though doubtful, this self-inflicted scratching doesn't self-induce.
- Show trials are bad.
- Criminal charges? Debate.
- What we talk about when we talk about books.
- No good DC novels?
- Yes, I didn't find Delmore Schwartz funny at 17. I know better now.
- UPDATE! If the above paragraph on Hardy had made it to this post when it had been published by design rather than by accident (it wouldn't have, most likely), most of the "fuckings" and "motherfucker" would have been deleted - one of the last phases of proof-reading is to excise all but the most necessary "fucks," "fuckers," "fuckings," and "motherfuckers." As for Hardy, I had to read Jude three times for college, once when I was farting around jucos, once for my undergraduate and once for my graduate degrees at Hilltop. I'm sorry, Jude getting hit with the pig's pizzle, the dorf named Father Time who hangs himself and his family? Jeebus. I don't doubt Hardy's importance in the development of the novel (I do doubt he had any importance in the development of poetry), I understand why he's in the high school curriculum, I just don't want to read any ever again.
- UPDATE! On the other hand, my fuck-up gave me the opportunity to type the word "dorf," which makes five of me and mine laugh, including me.
- Neil Young's personal memorabilia destroyed in fire. Holyfuck.
- Sweet Magnetic Fields cover.
- Darkblack's Sunday Overnight.
- 1966-1971, 1977-1981, and suck since?
DOGS ARE SHAKESPEAREAN, CHILDREN ARE STRANGERS
Dogs are Shakespearean, children are strangers.
Let Freud and Wordsworth discuss the child,
Angels and Platonists shall judge the dog,
The running dog, who paused, distending nostrils,
Then barked and wailed; the boy who pinched his sister,
The little girl who sang the song from Twelfth Night,
As if she understood the wind and rain,
The dog who moaned, hearing the violins in concert.
—O I am sad when I see dogs or children!
For they are strangers, they are Shakespearean.
Tell us, Freud, can it be that lovely children
Have merely ugly dreams of natural functions?
And you, too, Wordsworth, are children truly
Clouded with glory, learned in dark Nature?
The dog in humble inquiry along the ground,
The child who credits dreams and fears the dark,
Know more and less than you: they know full well
Nor dream nor childhood answer questions well:
You too are strangers, children are Shakespearean.
Regard the child, regard the animal,
Welcome strangers, but study daily things,
Knowing that heaven and hell surround us,
But this, this which we say before we’re sorry,
This which we live behind our unseen faces,
Is neither dream, nor childhood, neither
Myth, nor landscape, final, nor finished,
For we are incomplete and know no future,
And we are howling or dancing out our souls
In beating syllables before the curtain:
We are Shakespearean, we are strangers.