MichaelPoiarkoff

When i really sit and examine this piece, in my head, it pretty much boils down to the story of an aging man that is beginning to question his existence and impact on the world. Eliot writes lines like:
"Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."
I take this as an old man asking himself "Does any of it really matter?" This is a man that has been busy feeling sorry for himself and needed a break to write a poem. When i read Eliot's piece, i don't think "Tortured soul" as much as i think "Eor."
Some may say that it is about a man that is timid and reflective. I would choose depressed and nostalgic. I think i would have enjoyed this poem a lot more if T.S. focused a little more on being inquisitive, and dropped a little of "wow, when you really think about it, life sucks" bit. I liked a lot of the metaphors and open-end questions, but i just couldn't get over all of the "Did i have an impact?" crap. Maybe all our author needed was some thistles to cheer him up.
I know i may be coming down a little hard on Mr. Eliot, but all i have to say is i hope when i'm old and start feeling like my life is potentially meaningless, i can compose like that.

Posted by at 10:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

"The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes"

Perhaps if Mr. Eliot wanted his creative genius to really mean something, and wanted to leave his intended mark on the world, he shouldn't have rhymed "window-panes" with "window-panes."

Posted by at 10:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

When examining "Trifles" by Susan Glaspell, Hallie Geary's blog entry "Could it have been anyone else?" really got me thinking.
While I had previously noted the male dominance and ignorance throughout the story, and the irony when the women solved the puzzle without even trying, I failed to take into account the role reversal that took place due to these actions.
I think that it is safe to say that the shovanistic view of the men in this play is a little more than obvious, and that the women are in a less than desirable situation. Throughout the play, the women are belittled, and the men think they have everything under control. However, at the very end of the play, we see a complete role reversal. The women have now figured out the riddle, and are in complete control of the situation. And as if this wern't enough irony for the piece, Ms. Hale completes the reversal with her last-line smart comment to the attorney. By the end of the story it is the men who are in the dark, and the women who are in a position to hand out the insults.

Posted by at 9:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

"I know what stillness is."

Would identifying with someone keep you from turning them in for murder?
I sure hope so!
Repeating this line twice and then elaborating on Mrs. Peters' indentification with Mrs.Wright was a little much in the way of showing some identification, but it was likable none the less. I like the repetition, and I like the way Mrs. Peters zoned out it the whole "horror movie flashback" kind of way. Very classy.
It's not everyday you get housewives banding together to secure the fate of a comrad. I'll tip my hat to any overlooked housewife with a repressed sense of rejection and a longing for a better life.
Kudos on taking care of that Mrs.Wright.

Posted by at 7:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

"There was another silence, while Marjorie considered whether or not convincing her mother was worth the trouble. People over forty can seldom be permanently convinced of anything. At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are caves in which we hide."

This is a passage from "Bernice Bobs Her Hair" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It is only one of the many passages I could have choosen to analyze from this extremely well written story. Though it may not look like it, I chose this one specifically for its length. This passage is a perfect example of how a writer can cause a reader to compose an endless stream of thoughts by just writing a few simple lines.
This passage consists of 46 words, but but says at least a bazillion. Fitzgerald does something that only a real author can do; he produces a line that I can only dream of creating one day. The last sentence in this paragraph is now one of my favorite quotes. Why? Because this simple metaphor can be dwelled upon for weeks. These are the types of lines that make you rethink a short story, and force you to look at it for all it's worth. A reader can make a thousand different, ridiculous assumptions, ignore certain passages, and over-analyze a story to the point of obsurdity, but they cannot ignore a line like this. It is these kinds of little things that make a story worth reading.
Whether you are one to flaunt and defend your ideals for all they are worth, or one to simply build a fortress out of your convictions, you can look into this one line for a lifetime.

Posted by at 10:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

"Huh!" she giggled wildly. "Scalp the selfish thing!"

Damn right Bernice. You get yours.
There's nothing wrong with the way you were. It's okay be be boring with little to none feminine qualities.
Trust me on this one, I know your pain all too well.

Posted by at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

i wish i were eating peanut butter crunch with Corey Struss =/ It would taste so good on my palate.

Posted by at 11:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)