Thank you Daniel

Where did you get that line, where did you get that look? Where did you get that pension for destruction in the way you talk? Where did you get that ride? Where did you get that rocket? Where did you get that painter in your pocket?

A disclaimer of sorts.

To understand, one must listen to the album Destroyers Rubies, by Destroyer while reading "Machinations, Why?, and Experimenting." Why so, I don't know. It is a slammin' album and if you don't listen to it, do not scratch it off your list. You know what I mean. All in All, listen to the LP, the wax set, the vinyl of vinyl, and free your thoughts. Perhaps discover what it means to actually free your thoughts and discover. Become one with all and relish in it's beauty. If you don't give a shit, then there is no need for me to dissuade you otherwise, for your mind is made, and someone, something is leading you in the way that you should go. Press on sailor. May the catch be unlike anything you have ever seen!

Oh, the machinations, the feeling, the realization.....

I sit, and feel upset that I cannot Portray my feelings, my emotions as one might in the face of ultimate doom, despair, perhaps even loathing, failure, or even success. Who would have imagined it, success to the author but to no one else. Bless those who were torn apart by the UN-heard destruction. Lay in rest upon the hands of the most benevolent. The one that invites, the one that has no qualms, the one that is sure of all, and unsure of nothing. Be still, understand, or participate in the understanding. I should bring it to the attention that the water smells, looks, and tastes musky. OK. It is still the liquid that sustains my being, and for this I feel that i should not complain, for to complain would be to argue the spontaneity and purpose of my thoughts and cycle.
Why? Oh..But why not?
The song so drifts to my ears and regardless of all the shit, carries me away towards solitude.

The why?

Well, after my delusional trip, I'm pretty sure I just sat and pondered the phenomena of my existence. What i know, is that it was salty, but bland, and that i was eager to drink it in. I don't regret anything, because to have regrets is to question the very blood that runs through one's veins. OK, straying off topic, fuck, who am I kidding? What is topic? What is everything else? Not my questions to ask I guess because I cannot answer them correctly. The fresh, clean water is very much enjoyable, according to the advertisements, it uses less plastic, and is more ecologically friendly. But, all things are foreshadowed in lies. Be it cotton candy, or the assassination of the "once and future king" of the Americas. We live in a land, nay, a world of consumerism, and it is so strong, that there is nothing that one can do to battle this gigantic beast of burden.
The land runs free, and the water still flows, but forgive me, some are hungry for more than freedom. Many are hungry solely for their offspring. Forget the lonesome children. Many are raised by the world. The wold is a strategic hunter, and it behooves one to learn the ways of the wolf, But mastery of it's art is a different thing. The wolf is invincible, it turns into children as disguise. It sips brandy while we nap.

Experimenting with.....fuck it!

Well, seeing as how I am unable to type, I think that I shall just type regardless. I hope that i do not fatique the serious of many, but who am I to exemplar? Ok... I am awake, I am surrounded by half-ass illuminescencse (I don't know if that is a word. I don't know if anything that I am speaking is a word. If I were a teacher, would I be terminated? Anywho! I sit, mingle, ponder. I do not care if there were a gun pointed to my head, but certainly, If there were a gun pointed toward my head, I would be very nervous. Cincinnati, I remember. Remember that. Remember this. I remember the certain amounts of spring and summer, and I contemplate the amount of time one would spend reading this gibberish, this bullshit, but what else? Sleep? Transcendence? Ok, my garden of lies. My shallow coral reef of the things and words that one would expect from write. Oh, how failure I have become. Learn from these. Build off of these small business examples. But what if it is all wrong? What if I am doing things the opposite of the way they should actually be done? Have I made a waste? Have i typed my way into oblivious refuge? Whatever the fuck any of the following actually means. HaHa Ha.

The modern myth

Both Kidd and Woodward describe the significance of the uniforms worn by Superman and Wonder Woman. Both writers make it clear that the uniform has many meanings and that the uniform is fitting, seeing as how the one's who wear the uniforms are the potential heroes of mankind.

It is safe to say that both authors have read comic books, and have a great deal of respect for these fictional characters. "I always hate it whenever Superman's outfit is referred to as a costume." (Kidd 553) Well, I can agree with that. I think that superheros don't get the real attention they deserve. People see superheroes save man from impending doom on a daily basis. Most see superheros as an outlet, thrilling action and escape from reality, but the message is lost in translation. We create superheroes because we feel a need as a whole to be rescued. Rescued from various super villains that are present in life. These super villains are often other people, sometimes super genius humans, sometimes catastrophic events caused by humans, or whatnot. I guess I am just rambling. The question I was trying to answer is how the authors got their points across differently. Well, it is easy to see that the authors believe that superheros don't get the respect they deserve. I don't necessarily have to read two essays to understand this point. The superhero is a symbol of strength and unity. I mean c'mon, "Truth, Justice, and the American way." Maybe super patriotic, but in essence, words that define a way of living. Words that represent a way of thinking. And where did these words come from? Certainly not from any politician, but from a made up being. A thing from another planet that if did not have superpowers, and a solid upbringing, would not have been looked at with the same respect he receives today. Lets not forget about the other things, the voluptuous/sculpted bodies behind the skintight uniform. "Clothes hug the curves of the body fantastic, both as a way to ignite sexual fires in adolescent readers, and to signify a branding of the flesh." (Woodward 558) This screams freedom of sexuality, and ultimate beauty, without hinting at extreme vanity in any way. There are morals behind the superhero. Superheros make us feel safe, they remind us that good can triumph over evil.

The ebb and tide of popular culture in western civilization.

Disclaimer: Due to my procrastination, this is going to be a very shitty blog. Have mercy. It probably won't have any quotes from the text either. My sincerest apologies.

Ah, where to begin, where to begin? As usual, I read something. That something was titled "The Cosmic Significance of Britney Spears" by Tom Perrotta. (The title is in pretty pink, bubbly letters) Anyways..................So............ Perrotta's essay describes the enigma that is Britney Spears. He compares her to Elvis, Madonna, and Cobain in an attempt to point out her similarities with these artists, and her differences. Basically, (as I percieved) the essay is about Britney Spears being a product of corporate america, and how that product represented the overall state of the union at that time. I don't know, some bullshit like that. It's 10:31, I got class at 11, this is due at 1, I'm getting sidetracked, I guess now, I can add my 1 and 1/2 cents.

Well, what do I think of the essay? Well, the author does a good job explaining what he thinks about Spears, and what she is all about, but I believe that Perotta is not harsh enough. Maybe it's just me but Perrotta seems like he has a level head on his shoulders, he just seems like a literary wimp. Nowhere in the essay does he point out the fact that Spears, and artists like her are the reason why music is getting worse at an exponential rate with the current growth of the cancer that is pop culture stardom. Yes I enjoy cleavage, but I also enjoy music that makes sense. Ok, yes Spears sings songs about teasing and heartbreak, and all other kinds of bullshit, but she doesn't write the lyrics or the music, people write the bullshit for her. She is a puppet for the record companies, and an icon on a soapbox of gibberish for the billions in this country, foaming at the mouth for something catchy to listen to. Perrotta compares Spears to Madonna, Madonna sings about some ridiculous shit that I don't really care about, but atleast she writes the crap, and takes the blame for the crap. (Plus she adopts foreign children on a regular basis. She is super spectacular in my book.) I have no fucking idea where I'm going with all of this. I am upset that I had to read about Britney Spears, the fucking joke to the musical community. But at the same time, as of today, the joke would be on me, all the cool people listen to Spears, and her musically inbred cousins of artists. I would have loved to have read a piece on a woman who influenced music in a positive way, rather than waste my time reading a piece about an authors inner struggle to understand "the largest pop star in the universe"


Suggested Listening: Neko Case. This lady has some real talent. Even if you don't like it, you should respect her, and her music because she works hard to write and perform things that evoke feeling and emotion. The only feeling and emotion that Britney Spears music evokes is false hope in impressionable young girls, and boners in adolescent and grown men.

Bottom line: Fuck Britney Spears, and fuck the paper wasted to print this god-awful essay on.

Sorry for being so rash Coop.

Miniatures: Humans and planet Earth

The lowdown

There were three readings. The Fascination of the Miniature by Steven Millhauser, an introduction from A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson, and Reflections on a Mote of Dust by Carl Sagan. We shall start with Millhauser. In his excerpt, Millhauser suggests that humans often go about life looking at things the same way, never looking at things with interest until they are distorted in some shape or form. Millhauser uses the miniature as an example of this size distortion. Millhauser says that when these distortions occur, "The eye is irritated into attention" (121). Once this distortion has our attention, we tend to recognize things that we might not have seen before. Moving on. Bryson took things a little bit further. Instead of focusing on a miniature, he focused his introduction on the miniature particles that make up anything and everything. The atom. Bryson indulges us by letting us know about how many hours a lucky person might live, and how lucky we are to be alive based on the decisions and actions of our forebearers. Bryson mentions everything of coincidence, and nothing of fate/destiny (yes, fate/destiny is an incredibly romantic topic, but who the fuck really knows how everything "goes down" in our "existence". I'm rambling, I will stop........now.) Finally, Sagan reminds the reader how small he or she really is in the scheme of things. He points out that everything humans say and do, all take place on a pebble.

Disclaimer: The above might not be the best of summaries, but bear with me, let me share with you my insights about the readings. For I shall be Mister Rogers. Will you be my neighbor?

Ok, to begin with, I realize what the three articles have in common. They all talk about things on a very small scale. The interesting part about this relationship, is that while Millhauser speaks of army men, Bryson takes the human being, and looks at it from a very small scale "...if you were to pick yourself apart with tweezers, one atom at a time, you would produce a mound of fine atomic dust..."(123). Sagan takes this notion one step further, and looks at humanity on a very small scale (with the help of course from Voyager 1). (Reffering to "Pale Blue Dot") "That's here. That's home. That's us." Sagan (124).

Ok, so what I took from this is that the authors of the various works feel that not enough people look at the small things. Bryson and Sagan obviously feel that the majority of humanity doesn't understand how irrelevant we as a species are. Time goes on, things on earth are born, die, and are forgotten. According to Sagan, no matter how grand or feeble the accomplishment of man, it doesn't change the fact that earth is the universe's kidney stone. I find Bryson's introduction, and Sagan's "Reflection" to be enlightening, but at the same time very condescending. Maybe it's I'm giving the human race too much credit but I mean, regardless of how small we are or how insignificant our actions, we are still "here". We still exist. Whether it be by chance, or by the divine bowel movements of (the) God(s), we still live, breathe, eat, shit, and die. I think that regardless of our accomplishments, or as Sagan is so quick to point out, our flaws, the human race, our species means something. If we were put here by something, to carry out some sort of plan, who is to say that we are not currently carrying out that plan, and in essence, making a difference in the universe. On the other hand, if we are here as the result of millions of millenia of coincidence, have we not become learned in the process? Some would argue "No". Some might say that people have taken joy in killing other people since the dawn of humanity. Myself, I would reply "Yes". Humans have grown, and learned valuable lessons and harvested a multitude of ideas that could change worlds (assuming there are other worlds out there to change, and for some strange reason, I think that Sagan believes that there are other worlds out there. And based on his "Reflection" It seems as if he is ashamed of our world.) Amoeba's (as far as I know) are not capable of loving one another. Birds do not write prose. Shrimp cannot arrange symphonic bliss. By now, you might be thinking, "If you are Mister Rogers, then your neighborhood sucks." Well, forgive me for rambling, forgive me for having hope, and confidence in our species. It may be because I am young and naive, and have yet to be exposed to the many harsh "realities" of the (as Sagan would put it) tiny speck of dust we live on. But while Sagan, Bryson, and Millhauser prefer to look at things on a much smaller scale, you might say that I on the other hand, prefer to look at things on a bigger scale.

Introduction to the text or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the book

The summarization

The introduction to the textbook is "Writing Matters". This of course is a very strong title/statement that only the most ignorant of people would disagree with. That aside, the actual introduction begins by explaining the relationship between seeing and writing (so coincidental that the book is titled (no underline feature available so I shall use quotation marks) "Seeing and Writing 3". Moving on. The the authors suggest that writing is a skill, and that skills take time and practice to perfect. The textbook advises making detailed observations about things that the writer encounters. From these observations, the writer can make inferences about what is happening and then make conclusions. The textbook also goes into detail about the importance of drafting and revising the drafts. Halfway through the introduction, the reader is given a set of compositional tools that will help the reader better to understand parts of the writing process. These tools include structure, audience, point of view, tone, metaphor, and context. These are all great things, the textbook advises that a writer should know his/her audience before creating a piece. The textbook also defines what a metaphor is and how they can be much more fun and interesting than just simple observations.

The big difference between the textbook and LaMott's essay is that the previous is a textbook. The text does a better job of describing certain aspects of the writing process, as well as ways to make the thing you write more enjoyable to yourself, and your audience. LaMott's essay is the children's summary (with one or two expletives) of the introduction of the text.


Now lyrics from Destroyer's Song "This Night"

They led us on, they said "It would be your's"
Take down the border, stop patrolling the shores "Let us in"
We wrote a winter song. "C'mon, C'mon, C'mon, C'mon, C'mon"
Don't shelve the opera, you've been working this long on it.
Twelve years on the eastside, and still so...... house proud


I observe that the songwriter is feeling mistreated. I feel that he is not the only one that feels this way.

I can make many observations about these beginning lyrics of an incredible song, but I know that it would take me thirty years to finally understand the message Bejar is trying to get across. But that is ok with me. I probably never will know what he is talking about, but that doesn't bother me one bit.

Shitty First Drafts

First, I will begin with the most boring part of the assignment. The Summary. (I find the summary portion of any assignment to be very boring because it makes me feel like the professor doesn't trust that I actually read the assigned material. Regardless, it is required, and well.....damn o.k enough beating around the bush. Here we go.)

Anne LaMott, the brilliance behind this essay, begins by explaining that not every writer sits down and simply let's fascinating words and sentences fall from his/her pen. LaMott fully explains (and annoyingly re-iterates) that behind many literary masterpieces, there are many "shitty first drafts". LaMott explains to the reader that even thought the first draft may be "shitty", beautiful things can come from shit (like pretty flowers, and by pretty flowers I mean momentary sparks of genius). "Just get it all down on paper, because there may be something great in those six crazy pages........" the "down" draft as LaMott puts it. Amazing things may come out of this down draft. Next, is the "up" draft, where you fix things up. In this phase, LaMott explains that the writer refines the "down" draft to more conveniently convey his or her message to the reader. After the "up" draft comes the "dental" draft, or final checkup. This is the last stop before the writer finds out whether or not he/she is getting a paycheck this week, or directions to the nearest bar/loan office/bank ( I do not encourage theft). Towards the end of the essay, LaMott describes some of the voices in her head that scream at her when she is trying to write. (I (possibly) fully understand why LaMott would include these insights with her readers). LaMott is trying to explain to her readers that everyone has trouble writing. Everyone has trouble writing first drafts and getting started on pieces of work. She also lets the reader know that many writers (including herself) have trouble being confident in their work, either when it is just beginning to take form, or when it is hitting the professors/chiefs/President's desk. She explains that writers should block out insecurities they might have about their work. The writer also suggests that she has a friend(s) that enjoy shooting mice that are trapped in a jar...............In the head.


And now, a few questions that will (should hopefully) be addressed in the following paragraph.

1. How does LaMott's version of the writing process further clarify the ideas for adult writers? (Hah, I think I copied this question down wrong when it was on the board.)

2. Anything new or different here?

3. Does it change how you feel about the process, and/or your own ability to write.


Let's begin


Well, to start off, I enjoyed this essay up to about the third paragraph. The first two paragraphs of the essay shed light on an issue that I have thought about ever since I started reading great literary works. I used to think that writers such as Twain, Vonnegut, and Kerouac were born with a gift that few others had. The gift to sit and let their thoughts flow so free and smooth, that there was no need for a second draft. LaMott's essay informed me that even the great writers had rough draft ( I still don't believe that they were shitty, but I believe they had rough drafts none the less). Regardless, the point LaMott is trying to get across is that the writing process consists of stages. This is nothing new to me. I have been learning about the writing stages since I was in fifth grade. I understand that in order to produce a good piece of work, you should go through a rough draft, a second draft, third draft....etc, and finally a final draft. I really didn't like the terms LaMott used to describe the various drafts. "Down" draft, "Up" draft, "Dental" draft, (Back draft haha, I'm an Idiot.) C'mon LaMott, I'm not an Idiot (coincidence or irony? you decide.) You could have just said rough draft, and second, third, and fourth draft, and final draft. For Pete's sake, I am terrified of the dentist. To conclude, ( and please forgive me for my rambling.) this does not change the way I feel about the process, or my ability to write. The writing process, as programmed into my brain since the days of monkeybars, is the same then, as it was now, as it will always be. LaMott simply explained the writing process to me through her own perspective. I personally think LaMott's perspective is very boring (Except for the part about Burroughs being inside of her head.) and I believe that she filling the right shoes when all she did was write restaurant reviews. She probably wrote for the Wisconsin Chronicle (no offense intended to Wisconsinites) and I am glad that I never read any of her reviews.

P.S. If William S. Burroughs is inside of your head Mrs. LaMott, please listen to him. Although you may not understand half of the things he says, (because I sure know that I don't understand much of what he is saying.) listen to him, he might tell you the secrets of becoming a successful exterminator.