The Mix-up

Today in one of my classes, when a group was doing a presentation on Rene Magritte's "The Treachery of Images", I raised my hand and talked about how it could relate to Bertolt Brecht's playwriting, in the sense that Brecht's plays made sure the audience knew that they were watching a play, and that nothing in the play was plausible to real life. (For those of you haven't seen the piece, it's a painting (oil on canvas) of a wooden pipe, and then underneath it, it reads "ceci c'est ne pas une pipe" (this is not a pipe).) I brought up Brecht because by Magritte informing us that it is indeed not a pipe, he wanted to show people that it was just a painting of a pipe, and therefore, it cannot be a real pipe. My professor seemed to think it was a pretty good point, but the group presenting seemed lost and didn't respond to what I said. Turns out, we never discussed Brecht in this class. We discussed it in another class I'm in. My three philosophy of literature courses are all starting to blend together now and I may not be able to keep my stories straight. So, it got me thinking. If I were to be dating three different girls concurrently without either of them knowing about each other, I could go four weeks before I started to confuse what I was doing with one, as opposed to another. Not too shabby. (Except I have to get the one girl first.)

Across the street

fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffBRAKES

LOUDLOUDLOUDLOUD

quiettttttttttttttttt

Allegro

                                                      They walk down the

                                                                    Street

birdschirpingbirdsdying(tooclosetothesun)

                                                     They walk down the street, he wanting to 

                                                             hold herr hand, she hoping he doesn't

(((((((BLUShes)))))))

a collective guffaw bellows from the trees that will someday be flattened to make way for a center dedicated to solving the mystery of the disappearance of the trees.

May 9th, 1947

I had a dream a couple of days ago that dealt with a certain day in the past. The date was written on the palm of my hand or my arm or something. Anyway, I meant to look it up when I woke up, but got distracted. Yet the date still stayed with me. Kind of. I wasn't sure if it was May 7th, 1947 or May 9th 1947. So I looked up both a few minutes ago. The former resulted in nothing. Not even a notable birth. However, May 9th 1947 is Victory Day in the Former Soviet Union...

I Want to be Well

I need to get back to posting everyday, even if I have nothing to say. I went to a party last night. Probably my first since new years eve... I bought cough suppressant so I can hopefully get rid of this cough I've had for way too long. Seriously. I cannot take it anymore. The pharmacist asked me if I was smoker, and since I'm not, I think I may be in the clear.  But I guess we'll see in a week. Normally, I wouldn't blog about such health issues, but since it's just a cough, it doesn't really matter.

Oh, so I'm in Mix CD club, and I happened to overhear the person who got my mix. She seemed to not be aware of a few of the artists (there were only six songs on there since they were pretty long) but her friend (whom I met at the last Mix Cd club) told her that those were all great bands and then she got very excited about how she got such a good cd. That made me happy. The CD I got this time looks good, but I haven't had the time to listen to it yet. Royksopp and The Mountain Goats are on it, so that's a very good sign. Plus, the artwork is great. Much better than the last mix I got, which was replete with Top 40; like Taylor Swift and Sean Kingston (but not even his "Fire" song - i could at least laugh to that)...

Anyway, I'm working on a story right now. I have a little over a page of it done. It's very funny. In one of my classes, my professor was talking about how Gertrude Stein wrote her girlfriend's autobiography and the concept of writing someone else's autobiography was comical to me, so that's what I'm doing with this upcoming story.

Mambo is Dead

I do believe it was Nietzsche's cousin, South-American Salsa sensation Fredrico Nietzsche who said, "Mambo is dead."

My New Years Resolution

My new year s resolution is to grow a spine

Attachment

Nothing today. I start classes soon enough. Being around people will give me inspiration. I have inspiration, I just don't know how to use it yet. I'll be reading a lot of books on philosophy this quarter (not one, not fifty, but two books by Plato). And Derrida. And Breton. And Beckett. Hopefully, all this reading won't take away my light, comical stories. I don't want to lose the rare ability to make people find my stories funny. So, instead, I'm hoping I'll be able to incorporate what I've learned and make my comedies less light, and have some actual substance. Also, I want to explore new ideas, as the previous two stories I have written dealt with Absurdism and Existentialism. It could be a colossal failure of misplaced pretentiousness. (Or an worse fate, it could just not be funny.) Either way....