Saturday, March 20, 2010
over spring break (a nice time away from graduate studies and teaching), i think i watched way too much CNN. i was thinking about tiger woods, his supposed (rather quick) come back and could not help but think of Oedipus and how the chorus acts as conscience. even though the masters tournament draws and houses the prestige of prestige fans, someone is going to heckle. and what if that person yells what used to be a common phrase of support "in the hole"...? yikes...a conscience check if ever.
though a good king to his people, Oedipus's pride destroys him, but it also prevents him from perpetual incest...i wonder where tiger gauges on pride, today? i wonder if the golf chorus will be able to whip him morally? i'm still on the 'probably not' side of things, but one never knows..
provoking images of Oedipus via google:
Thursday, March 18, 2010
something is very, ever wrong with this cartoon drawing of gabourey. what happened to her beautiful dark skin?
respectfully, i have to say this artist at toonpool.com is sending that same-old message, perpetuating the same-old stigma that light-skin is better...that dark skin is socially unacceptable, a lesser. my daughter wouldn't be too happy about this...
Friday, March 12, 2010
every now and then i sit down and write a letter. here's an old atlas map book put to good use, addressed to Sussex. the envelope idea is first borrowed from long time friend, Spring Warren, Author of the notable Turpentine and put into action again by the influence of blogbud Andrea at found-art blog. Thanks gals!
i was thinking the other day about E. M. Forster's Howards End and how the telegram replaced love and letters:
"'To think that because you and a young man meet for a moment, there must be all these telegrams and anger,' supplied Margaret.
'I've often thought about it, Helen. It's one of the most interesting things in the world. The truth is that there is a great outer life that you and I have never touched--a life in which telegrams and anger count. Personal relations, that we think supreme, are not supreme there. There love means marriage settlements, death, death duties. So far I'm clear. But here's my difficulty. This outer life, though obviously horrid, often seems the real one--there's grit in it. It does breed character. Do personal relations lead to sloppiness in the end?'
'Oh, Meg, that's what I felt, only not so clearly, when the Wilcomxes were so competent, and seemed to have their hands on all the ropes.'
'Don't you feel it now?'
'I remember Paul at breakfast,' said Helen quietly. 'I shall never forget him. He had nothing to fall back upon. I know that personal relations are the real life, for ever and ever.'
...sort of like email has replaced the same and so so much more--a personal read of emotions and physical appearances...being able to gauge whether someone is disturbed or experiencing an honest moment of excitement, whether that person is happy for you or merely faking support.
somehow being locked into this kind of technological connectedness is bitter-sweet. it's our end and our new beginnings...i hope however, from time-to-time, one can...sit...and write...a love letter or a...letter...from time-to-time.
i continue to write to my deceased grandma, my Big, at least once a year. each time i write something different addressing one of only three of her letters. my response usually covers what's currently going on in life, with me, in general, my thoughts and opinions about a political issue or the like. it would be a wonder, i'd like to believe, to look back at them over time, but they are sealed.
the letters she wrote my daughter and me are so few. they are so much fun to look at. i still can't believe she only made it through sixth grade because she was able to accomplish so much. one of her letters is included in an earlier post; it could be this one. these days, i hardly ever go back to see what i've previously posted.