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Monday, May 19, 2008

PRIMA DONNA

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Photo Journal

Snippets...
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, Thomas Jefferson
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal: that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.
NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS, AN AMERICAN SLAVE, Frederick Douglass
During this time, my copy-book was the board fence, brick wall, and pavement; my pen and ink was a lump of chalk. With these, I learned mainly how to write. I then commenced and continued copying the Italics in Webster's Spelling Book, until I could make them all without looking on the book. By this time, my little Master Thomas had gone to school, and learned how to write, and had written over a number of copy-books. These had been brought home, and shown to some of our near neighbors, and then laid aside. My mistress used to go to class meeting at the Wilk Street meetinghouse every Monday afternoon, and leave me to take care of the house. When left thus, I used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Master Thomas's copy-book, copying what he had written. I continued to do this until I could write a hand very similar to that of Master Thomas. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in learning how to write.
ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, Mark Twain
I never felt easy till the raft was two mile below there and out in the middle of the Mississippi. Then we hung up our signal lantern, and judged that we was free and safe once more. I hadn't had a bite to eat since yesterday, so Jim he got out some corn-dodgers and buttermilk, and pork and cabbage and greens--there ain't nothing in the world so good when it's cooked right--and whilst I eat my supper we talked and had a good time. I was powerful glad to get away from the feuds, and so was Jim to get away from the swamp. We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft.

THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD, Zora Neale Hurston
[Grandma] was borned in slavery time when folks, dat is black folks, didn't sit down anytime dey felt lak it. So sittin' on porches lak de white madam looked lak uh mighty fine thing tuh her. Dat's whut she wanted for me － don't keer whut it cost. Git up on uh high chair and sit dere. She didn't have time tuh think whut tuh do after you got up on de stool uh do nothin'. De object wuz tuh git dere. So Ah got up on de high stool lak she told me, but Pheoby, Ah done nearly languished tuh death up dere. Ah felt like de world wuz cryin' extry and Ah ain't read de common news yet.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Sakura, D.C.

It was a lovely time--that Saturday morning. Raining. No crowds. A little wet. Light breezes. Cold. But we had it all to ourselves, it seemed.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Spring break is drawing to a close. This week, I haven't travelled anywhere. But, oh, if I remember that St. Patrick's Day when I walked those brick streets in red earthy colors (and pansies ready to bloom on the sides), I would feel at once that my spring break had been too well spent. Annapolis.
Right now, I am writing in between reading the eight and ninth chapters of Huckleberry Finn. I am in love with it. It is too easy for me to forget that I should read critically (for class) and I fall right into the story instead. Mark Twain is an absolute genius and Huckleberry Finn is one of my most favorite books of all time.
I remember, actually, reading Huckleberry Finn the summer of last year. I took two weeks to finish reading it. The book had been slotted neatly into a shelf in between other books (and it was just a bit different from the others because it had been, for the most part, untouched despite its yellowing pages).
The book wasn't even mine. I hadn't bought it. I'd simply taken it from what my cousin had left when she went to study in Australia. I tried reading it at fifteen or sixteen but I couldn't get past the dialects. I took two weeks to finish reading it last year. I can finish it in one day now--perhaps due mostly to incessant reading. Reading (mostly) every day for class, reading a score of books during the winter break. Later, I forgot much of the content of the books, remembering sensations (for example, that I loved Mrs. Dalloway). Next summer, I'd have to read The Great Gatsby again and Mrs. Dalloway again. I feel that I haven't satisfied myself with my preliminary readings of those books--that it was well that I heaved enormously with the Iliad and Paradise Lost and Les Miserables and thus become more comfortable with reading (freeing up mental resources, certainly, for me to grasp the meanings and subtleties in the text) but that I do want to read such books again (not in any way experiencing the story in any same way).
I do love the stories. But I have to remember that I should have to get out of my sunny apartment also and do much travelling. The dandelions have started to come out. Fresh bright buttery dandelions. The days are getting longer and the warm rays are catching the blades of grass. I will take walks, throw my beautiful white coat off my shoulders and trade it in for a blue silk scarf, printed with flowers, tassels at one end. Light skirts and peep-toed heels. Wish me well!