Kinzie's Page

“Cracking the Universe” is about the fragile state of Russia.  I think Russia because the beetle drowning in the first stanza (the student’s dream) is red.  I know that red was associated with the Bolsheviks, but I don’t really know the details of Russian history.  Also, in the end it is said that the red insect is Russia.  Each stanza of the poem draws upon the fragility of Russia, how it is drowning, or the strength of the opposition.

            In the first stanza, the student dreams that a red insect (symbolizing Russia) is tossed into the water (symbolizing that it is drowning).  The student wakes and laments how “The fall of my nation is near!”   He makes clear what this dream is supposed to represent.  But I have one question: are the mother who tells her little girl to put the beetle down and the little girl who drops the beetle in the water supposed to represent an exact historic figure?  I don’t know Russian history, but it seems like these two characters are synonymous with two historic characters.  I just don’t know who.  Regardless, the first stanza introduces the idea that Russia is fragile- “a beetle wrinkling its weak and tattered wings- and “close to death.” 

            The second stanza continues on this idea, the old man beginning with “all things are waves.  We have left the crest, and wallow in a trough.”  Russia is past its prime, and now beginning its downfall.  I really like what Sara had to say about this, that “it is as if all events, past occurrences and future occurrences, transpire in a wave pattern.”  I agree.  Someone or something is up or down, and then they trade positions.  For example, look at world powers throughout history.  There has been no one world power, but instead countries have risen to prominent positions and then have fallen back under the dominion of another more powerful country.  It is an inevitable pattern, but I don’t know if I agree with Sara that it is fate.  It is something that countries can do something about, which is what happens in this poem.  This poem is about Russia in its downfall, and about Russia fighting to get back up on top.  There is hope.

            This hope appears in the third stanza.  While the son does mention the recurring image that “many men have died in a great deep of water,” he continues on to say that “I discovered truths, majestic and straightforward, and like divinities they entered my temples, greeted me with outstretched open arms, and filled the empty white temples with their breath.”  Now, I am not exactly sure what all of this is supposed to mean, but I know that the feeling it resonates within me is not one of depression and hopelessness, but rather the opposite.  The son knows that he can do something to help Russia against the opposition.  He does not just continue on about how it is fate that Russia will collapse, but instead questions: “Now who will win?  My down-home birch [Russia] or the fury of iron-clad seas [the opposition]?”  Just the fact that he questions who will win rather than outright stating that Russia is going to lose makes it apparent that he has hope.  And even if Russia does lose, then Russians should “come, like swimmers in the waters of death we will press through the waters, stroking our way through the river of death with unrelenting arms.  Swimming is always refreshing, though it’s never easy at first.”  The son has hope for Russia, even if it is tossed into the water.

            The young leader drives this hope home, in a sense.  He talks about how his comrades (Russians) should “breach the walls of the rational skull of the universe” and “shake up the strings of this heavenly puppet.”  He tells the Russians to fight back against the inevitable.  He refuses to believe that it is fate that Russia collapse, but instead insists that Russia can help itself out.  And it does!  The Russians “shatter the skull of the universe,” they crack the inevitable rise and fall of the waves in the universe, they remain on top.  The young leader turns a valve to rescue the insect from drowning and rejoices that “the beetle now rests on a flower.”  Russia is back on top, it defies the rise and fall of the wave pattern.  Russia can now “fly wherever it likes.”  It is a beetle free to do whatever it likes.

11/29

Rough draft…a little help would be great…

Pu Songling’s “The Ethereal Rock” is a love story with a strange twist: the love is between a man and a rock.  The man, Xing Yunfei, falls intensely in love with a particular rock- Mr. Ethereal Rock. Xing Yunfei’s love is so extreme that he sacrifices three years of his life to be with this rock.  This sacrifice, among other acts of his, and the apparent absurdity of a man being in love with a rock, makes Xing Yunfei appear a bit crazy.  Pu Songling, or as known through his penname as The Historian of the Strange, attests to this perception of Xing Yunfei by exclaiming “wasn’t his folly extreme!” (207).  But the Historian of the Strange does not just dismiss Xing Yunfei as a raving lunatic. He gives Xing Yunfei more credit, noting events that make it appear as if the rock returns Xing Yunfei’s love. The rock does somehow always get back into his hands “suddenly” or “by chance.” But a rock being taken five times and ending back up back in Xing Yunfei’s hands every time seems a bit more than chance.  It is destiny. Through the Historian of the Strange’s choice of words and unfolding of events, Xing Yunfei appears not simply a crazy man, but a man who has a genuine relationship with a rock and who is the subject of destiny- an inevitable series of events that lead to Xing Yunfei and the ethereal rock being together even in death. 

The first time that the rock is stolen and returned to Xing Yunfei’s possession is suspicious because of the Historian of the Strange’s diction, specifically the word “sudden.”  The rock is stolen by a rich bully who gives it to “his muscular servant” (203) to hold.  When traveling away from Xing Yunfei’s home, the servant stops at a bridge, and while “just resting his arms on the railing of the bridge…he suddenly los[es] his grip, and the rock topple[s] into the river” (203).  A muscular man “suddenly” (203) losing his grip on “a rock barely a foot high” (203) seems a bit suspicious.  Is the rock falling into the river truly an accident? Furthermore, why can the rock not be recovered?  The rich bully pays swimmers to locate the rock. They try “a hundred different way to find it” (203) and “seekers of the rock daily filled the river, but no one ever found it” (203).  It is not until Xing Yunfei is walking by the river that “all of a sudden…the river had turned transparent and the rock was still lying in the water” for Xing Yunfei to find. Against the odds, the rock “suddenly” slips out of the bully’s servant’s hands and “all of a sudden” is found by Xing Yunfei because it is their destiny to be together.

            Events seem to happen “suddenly” or “by chance” so that Xing Yunfei and the ethereal rock can be together.  The second time that the rock is stolen, Xing Yunfei is only without it for a short time before “he went by chance to the Baoguo temple…[and] noticed someone selling rocks and there discovered his old possession among the wares” (205).  What are the chances that Xing Yunfei goes to this particular temple on this exact day to find this specific rock?  Chance does not seem to be the fitting word for this incident, a more appropriate word would be that it is destiny that brings Xing Yunfei to his “old possession” (203).

            The only time that Xing Yunfei and the ethereal rock’s destiny is questionable is when a god intervenes, the one being that can tamper with destiny.  The god appears as an old man to ask Xing Yunfei for the rock back.  Xing Yunfei argues, but the god responds that “it’s up to you [the ethereal rock] to decide whom you belong to” (204).  The ethereal rock appears to decide it belongs to the old man, for when the god leaves and Xing Yunfei goes back into his house, “the rock had disappeared” (204).  But was it really the ethereal rock’s choice to be with the god?  When Xing Yunfei implores the god to give the rock back, the god explains that he took the rock away because “he [the rock] was in a hurry to display himself and emerged too early so that his demonic power has not yet been eradicated.  I [the god] was actually going to take him away and wait three more years before I presented him to you” (205).  The god’s explanation arouses many questions.  Who was the rock in a hurry to display itself for?  Could it have possibly been Xing Yunfei?  Does the rock love Xing Yunfei and want to be with him?  Is that why the god intervened, to separate these two lovers before the rock’s demonic powers were used against Xing Yunfei?  None of these questions are directly answered, but the god does give evidence to one point- that it is Xing Yunfei’s and the rock’s destiny to be together.  The god says himself that even if he took the rock away, he was going to present it to Xing Yunfei in three years.  The two lovers were inevitably going to be together, but Xing Yunfei speeded up the inevitable series of predetermined events that define destiny by making a deal with the god and forfeiting three years of his life to be with the rock immediately. 

Xing Yunfei sacrificed three years of his life to be with the rock- definite proof of his love- but what about the rock?  It might still appear questionable as to whether the rock loves Xing Yunfei, but this question is answered in the rock’s ultimate self- sacrifice for Xing Yunfei.  After being stolen from Xing Yunfei’s grave, the rock was ordered placed in the magistrate’s treasury.  But before it was even moved one step, “as one of his [the magistrate’s] clerks picked up the rock, it suddenly fell to the ground and smashed into a hundred pieces[…] Xing’s son gathered up the shattered pieces and buried them again in his father’s tomb” (207).  Once again, the word “suddenly” makes this incident a bit suspicious.  Just as the rock “suddenly” fell into the river in an earlier episode in this story, it is now “suddenly” falling to the ground to later be placed with Xing Yunfei.  Is this truly an accident?  No, it is an act of love.  The ethereal rock is sacrificing itself to be with Xing Yunfei.

The Historian of the Strange’s final verdict states a simple fact and poses a rhetorical question that encourages the reader not to pass judgement on Xing Yunfei’s apparent obsession over a rock, but to humor the idea that the ethereal rock returned Xing Yunfei’s love and it was their destiny to be together.  His conclusion states that “in the end, man and rock were together in death” and further questions “who can say the rock was unfeeling?” (207).  In the end, they were together.  They overcame all obstacles: a rich bully, being lost in the river, a god, robbers, a minister, a magistrate.  They survived being apart from each other, but always ended up back together “suddenly” or “by chance” or through the help of a god.  The story of their love defines destiny- “the apparently predetermined and inevitable series of events that happen to somebody of something” ( ).  Their love was so intense that they each sacrificed at least a few years of their life or their entire being to be with each other in death.  That is definitely a genuine, loving relationship.  Although the idea of a rock and a man in love appears absurd, who are we to say?  And that is exactly what the Historian of the Strange leaves the reader with- not a precise answer, but the possibility of the reality of this strange love story between two unbefitting characters.

11/23

No more entries for a while, I’m off on a family vacation.  Happy Thanksgiving!

11/22

The following is an excerpt from Terry Tempest William's Refuge:

   "Cancer.  The word has infinite power.  It kills us with its name first, because we have allowed it to become synonymous with death.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines cancer as 'anything that frets, corrodes, corrupts, or consumes slowly and secretly.'

A person who is told she has cancer faces a hideous recognition that somehting monstrous is happening within her  own body.

Cancer becomes a disease of shame, one that encourages secrets and lies, to protet as well as to conceal.

And then suddenly, within the rooms of secrecy, patient, doctor, and family find themselves engaged in war.  Once again, medical language is loaded, this time with military metaphors: the fight, the battle, enemy infiltration, and defense strategies.  I wonder if this kind of aggression waged against our own bodies is counterproductive to healing?  Can we be at war with ourselves and still find peace?

How can we rethink cancer?

It begins slowly and is largely hidden.  Once cell divides into two; two cells divide into four; four cells divide into sixteen...normal cells are consumed by abnormal ones.  Over time, they congeal, consolidate, make themselves known.  Call it a mass, call it a tumor.  It surfaces and demands our attention.  We can surgically remove it.  We can shrink it with radiation.  We can posion it with drugs.  Whatever we choose, though, we view the tumor as foreign, something outside ourselves.  It is however, our own creation.  The creation we fear.

The cancer process is not unlike the creative process.  Ideas emerge slowly, quietly, invisibly at first.  They are most often abnormal thoughts, thoughts that disrupt the quotidian, the accustomed.  They divide and multiply, become invasive.  With time, they congeal, consolidate, and make themselves conscious.  An idea surfaces and demands total attention.  I take it from my body and give it away."

       This is Terry Tempest William's ideas on her mother's cancer, and I just think that it is interesting.  We think of cancer as being something "foreign, outside ourselves," when in fact, it is very much within ourselves.  When I read this I immediately thought of self versus other.  Is cancer part of the self, is it other, is it something inbetween?  This also made me think of Lakoff's discussion of framing- "can we be at war with ourselves and still find peace?  How can we rethink cancer?"  Is there a way to frame cancer that would help in the healing process?  Or would it be just another lie?

11/20

We won!!  Not that the outcome wasn’t expected, but it’s still fun to say.

11/17

When I first read “The Ethereal Rock” I just though it was about a crazy man’s obsession with a magical rock.  But after reading through it again and more slowly, I have found much more to the story.  The question that is really intriguing to me is whether the rock loves Xing Yunfei back.  The rock is magical- it puffs clouds.  Who is to say that it is not capable of love?  It sounds crazy, but then again, that seems to be what most of the stories we read in this class are about.  This story makes something completely weird seem normal.  When I finished reading this story for the second time, instead of thinking that Xing Yunfei was a raving lunatic with an unhealthy obsession, I was happy that when he died he got to be with the love of his life.  It was weird, I was thinking of the ethereal rock and Xing Yunfei like two young lovers.  In the end I was like ahhh, how sweet.

11/15

Big Game Week…everyone get excited!  Sorry, I’m  a dork.

I had a great time in Atlanta, and I did some fascinating reading in the airplane too.  I don’t mean to be offensive to people who are pro-Bush, but I just can’t help quoting Lakoff, it’s just so interesting. I know this might not have to do with our class, but it is about language and this is an English class, so here goes:

“On the day that George W. Bush arrived in the White House, the phrase tax relief started coming out of the White House.  It still is:  It was used a number of times in this year’s State of the union address, and is showing up more and more in preelection speeches four years later.

Think of the framing for relief.  For there to be relief there must be an affliction, an afflicted party, and a reliever who removes the affliction and is therefore a hero.  And if people try to stop the hero, those people are villains for trying to prevent relief.

When the word tax is added to relief, the result is a metaphor: Taxation is an affliction.  And the person who takes it away is a hero, and anyone who tries to stop him is a bad guy.  This is a frame.  It is made up of ideas, like affliction and hero.  The language that evokes the frame comes out of the White House, and it goes into press releases, goes to every radio station, every TV station, every newspaper.  And soon the New York Times is using tax relief.  And it is not only on Fox, it is on CNN, it is on NBC, it is on every station because it is “the president’s tax relief plan.”  And soon the Democrats are using tax relief- and shooting themselves in the foot.

It is remarkable.  I was asked by the Democratic senators to visit their caucus just before the president’s tax plan was to come up in the Senate.  They had their vision of the tax plan, and it was their version of tax relief.  They were accepting the conservative frame.  The conservatives had set a trap: The words draw you into their worldview.”

11/11

Erica, I am very sorry to hear that Cleopatra died on your birthday.  But now I am inspired to look up who died on my birthday.

Sorry, but no entries until Tuesday- I’m off to Atlanta!!

11/10

Okay, I can read the stories all the way through now.  They’re really engaging.  Men putting on makeup and doing who-knows-what to impress the emperor, a man almost dying from having too much sex with two goddesses, a man obsessively in love with a rock, a transvestite…this is stuff that can keep anyone reading.

11/9

All right, I admit, I did not read all of the Hsiung-nu.  I read about the first two pages, got bored and confused, realized how long the story was, and gave up.  But in today’s discussion one part of Hsiung-nu really got me- the way that Chung-hsing Shuo was able to spin the story.  When a Han envoy scorned the Hsiung-nu for not showing proper respect to their aged, Chung-hsing Shuo replied, “The Hsiung-nu make it clear that warfare is their business.  And since the old and the weak are not capable of fighting, the best food and drink are naturally allotted to the young men in the prime of life.  So the young men are willing to fight for the defense of the nation, and both fathers and sons are able to live out their lives in security.  How can you say that the Hsiung-nu despise the ages?”  I just think that this response is incredible- the way that he spun a negative into a positive.  If Chung-hsing Shuo was alive today, he would make a great public relations executive.  Actually, he’d be great for Bush.  I’m reading a book right now by George Lakoff (who’s a professor here at Berkeley!!) called don’t think of an elephant.  It’s all about framing your argument.  Just a little excerpt: “Framing is about getting language that fits your worldview.  It is not just language.  The ideas are primary- and the language that carries those ideas, evokes those ideas.”  I’ve just started reading it, but already I’m fascinated.  It is all about politics and relations between Democrats and Republicans- the language used to frame their debates and how stories are spun.  I think that Chung-hsing Shuo would fit in nicely in this “essential guide for progressives.”

11/6

All right peeps, this is the rough draft of my essay.  I know that I'm a little late to be asking, but if you could please read it and give me feedback I'd really appreciate it.  Thanks!!!!

          The character Domitius Enobarbus does not appear in Plutarch’s Lives of Noble Grecians and Romanes, the text that Shakespeare used as his chief source of historical information for writing Antony and Cleopatra. The Domitius Enobarbus in Shakespeare’s play is loosely based on the combination of two insignificant figures in Plutarch’s historical records, but is by and large Shakespeare’s creation.  Enobarbus thus serves a specific purpose: he is a device through which Shakespeare can provide description, insight, and interpretation to the other characters in the play, particularly Antony. Shakespeare constructs Antony as a lovesick fool and weak ruler throughout the play, but these are mainly the one-sided opinions of a biased army and Caesar.  Enobarbus offsets these perceptions with the view that Antony is a strong, respectable leader in true love. By being both Antony’s friend and subordinate, Enobarbus functions to exhibit the duality of Antony’s persona, revealing Antony as both a great Roman soldier and a man hopelessly in love.

            From the first lines of the play, Enobarbus counterbalances the army’s disappointment in Antony to show that Antony is not just a “strumpet’s fool” wholly neglecting his responsibilities.  Through Philo’s focalization, Antony appears an undignified, weak ruler. Philo, a member of the Roman army, laments how Antony, “The triple of the world[, has been] transform’d/ Into a strumpet’s fool” (1.1.13-14).  He does not approve of the happenings in Egypt, and perceives Antony as a “strumpet’s fool” who has lost his dignity and seriousness as a Roman soldier.  On the other hand, there is Enobarbus, who as Antony’s friend, displays the respectable and dutiful side of Antony.  When Antony discovers that Fulvia (his wife) is dead, he confides in Enobarbus.  Through Antony’s dialogue with Enobarbus, the audience can see a thoughtful Antony who feels guilty for ignoring his wife. Granted this guilt does not last long (Enobarbus quickly cheers him up with sexual innuendos), but it is enough to make Antony realize that he must “quick[ly] remove from hence” (1.2.199). Through Enobarbus the audience can see the full character of Antony.  He is not just a “strumpet’s fool,” he is a respectable man who laments his ill-treatment of his wife and a dutiful soldier who recognizes that he and his army should return to Rome.

            As a loyal subordinate, Enobarbus continues to make Antony look like a strong leader in Rome.  Before Antony sees Caesar, Lepidus advises Enobarbus to tell Antony to speak softly to Caesar (2.2.2-3).  But Enobarbus defiantly responds: “I shall entreat him to answer like himself.  If Caesar move him, let Antony look over Caesar’s head and speak as loud as Mars” (2.2.4-7). Enobarbus revels at the idea of the great Mark Antony speaking softy to Caesar, as if Caesar deserved more respect than Antony.  Enobarbus defends that Mark Antony is still a dignified Roman soldier with the right to “speak as loud as Mars” when even Lepidus, the third pillar of the triumvirate, is doubtful of Antony’s power. Enobarbus restores the faith that Antony is still a great Roman soldier, and Antony proves Enobarbus’s words correct as he civilly handles Caesar and does what is necessary to his position in the next scene.

            Unfortunately, what is necessary for Antony’s position is a marriage to Caesar’s sister, which is something, as Enobarbus points out, that directly confronts Antony’s duality.  Antony chooses to marry Octavia (Caesar’s sister) because he needs to “tie their [his and Caesar’s] friendship” together to fight Pompey.  Antony chooses the dutiful Roman soldier side of his persona in this scene, but Enobarbus gives voice to the other side of Antony- the side that wants to exclaim “Never!” (2.3.243) in response to the marriage proposal to Octavia. Enobarbus even prophesizes that “the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity” (2.6.118-120).  Enobarbus functions to show the other side of Antony that is not being represented in this scene, the “hopelessly in love” side that is desperate to be with Cleopatra, that will react to this love later in the play. 

As Antony’s friend, Enobarbus reacts differently to Antony’s love life than the other characters.  Enobarbus is more accepting and even enthusiastic of Antony’s relationship with Cleopatra.  He is not disgusted by Antony’s affections like the other soldiers and Caesar.  Rather than scoffing at how Antony has become “the fan to cool a gipsy’s lust” (1.1.10) like Philo or admonishing Antony for being overcome by “lascivious wassails” (1.4.58) like Caesar, Enobarbus romanticizes Antony’s relationship with Cleopatra.  He adoringly describes how “When she [Cleopatra] first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart upon the river of Cydnus” (2.2.195-6).  Enobarus’s words paint Antony as a man who has fallen in love (2.2.195-6; 2.2.234-5), not a lovesick fool who has fallen into a pathetic stage of “dotage” (1.1.1).

Enobarbus’s role as mediator between the two sides of Antony’s persona is temporarily lost when Enobarbus thinks that Antony has actually become a lovesick fool, and as a result he abandons Antony. When Canidius says “So our leader’s led,/ And we are women’s men” (3.7.70), Enobarbus is not on stage.  Enobarbus is a device through which Shakespeare shows the duality of Antony’s character, but at this point Antony’s duality is nonexistent.  Enobarbus is not on stage because he has nothing to say to counterbalance Canidius’s statement. There is no other side of Antony to reconcile with.  Antony is just a lovesick fool.  Antony even says himself that he has lost his rank as a serious Roman soldier because of Cleopatra, that his sword was “made weak by my affection” (3.11.67).  Enobarbus tries to be a loyal friend and subordinate to Antony for a while, but eventually it gets to a point where Enobarbus cannot endure “To follow with allegiance a fallen lord” (3.13.45) and he decides to “seek/ Some way to leave him” (205-206). Enobarbus’s function as the character to show the duality of Antony has been lost because the duality of Antony’s character has been lost.  He is no longer a great Roman soldier and a man hopelessly in love.  He is just a man hopelessly in love.

Enobarbus’s function is quickly restored though. When Antony discovers that Enobarbus has deserted him, Antony reacts as a dignified, noble soldier.  Instead of getting upset about Enobarbus’s betrayal, Antony has a moment of self reflection in which laments how his “fortunes have/ Corrupted honest men” (4.5.16-17).  Antony takes full responsibility for how his actions have affected “honest men,” specifically Enobarbus.  Antony is so sorrowful that he dispatches Eros to send Enobarbus’s treasure to him with “gentle greetings and adieus” (4.5.14) from by Antony.  Through Antony’s reaction to Enobarbus’s desertion, the audience can see that although Antony is infatuated with Cleopatra, he still possesses the noble qualities of a respectable ruler; there is still duality in his character. 

Enobarbus also sees these noble characteristics in Antony, and subsequently feelsgrave remorse for abandoning Antony and commits suicide.  Enobarbus realizes that he has “done ill/ Of which I [he] do accuse myself [himself] so sorely/ That I [he] will joy no more” (4.6.18-20).  Enobarbus feels horrible for not having more faith in Antony.  At the beginning of the play he always gave Antony the benefit of the doubt, displaying the full character of Antony, not just accepting the one-sided opinions of other characters.  Enobarbus was a loyal friend and servant, but when his honesty and fear of self preservation began “to square with the loyalty” (3.7.10) that he had for Antony, he abandoned Antony.  He deserted Antony when he thought Antony’s character was hopeless, just wrapped up in Cleopatra and blind to everything else. But Antony proved him wrong, showing in his generosity and compassion that there were still respectable qualities in his character.  Enobarbus regrets not recognizing this in his friend and general.  He laments his choice to leave Antony’s camp and cries out that he wishes “the world rank me in register a master-leaver and a fugitive” (4.9.25) as he commits suicide.

His final words and death is a culminating example of how Enobarbus functions to exhibit the duality of Antony’s character.  At the end of the play, when Antony appears wholly a lovesick fool and weak ruler, Enobarbus offsets such views with exaltations of how Antony is a man “nobler than my [Enobarbus’s] revolt is infamous” (4.9.22).  Enobarbus hails the noble and worthy traits in Antony’s persona, proclaiming that those traits surpass in magnitude Enobarbus’s dishonorable characteristics.  Enobarbus balances the perceptions of Antony, displaying even in his death how Antony is a dignified, strong ruler.

Enobarbus is in a unique position to show the duality of Antony’s persona because he is both Antony’s friend and subordinate.  As Antony’s friend, Enobarbus is the ear in which Antony confides.  Enobarbus acts like a satellite, showing Antony’s true emotions and thoughts when Antony cannot himself, from his guilt for poorly treating Fulvia to his love for Cleopatra to his disdain at having to marry Octavia. As Antony’s subordinate, Enobarbus shows off the great general Mark Antony that the other soldiers, Caesar, and Lepidus keep referring to, the Mark Antony that they remember but whom they think has been transformed by Cleopatra into a lovesick fool and weak ruler.  Through Enobarbus’s focalization, the audience can see that there is a duality to Mark Antony’s persona in which sometimes one side of his persona is better represented than the other. But in the end Enobarbus dies of grief at having abandoned Mark Antony; his final words focalize Mark Antony as a strong leader in true love, a respectable general worth dieing for.

11/4

     I saw the most amazing performance tonight and it made me really think about "difference."  I saw the Bolshoi Ballet perform "Romeo and Juliet" at the Zellerback Auditorium.  The performance was really modern, like nothing I expected.  I can't even explain how phenomenal it was.  I've seen "Romeo and Juliet" three times- once as a traditional play, once as a traditional ballet, and the one that I saw tonight (which I can't really explain).  I've also read two translations of it and seen Baz Luhrman's movie.  That's six versions of "Romeo and Juliet" that I've seen in eighteen years.  And every version has had a different impact on me.  For example, tonight's ballet was incredibly intense.  The music was almost deafening and the dancing/acting was really dramatic. I pitied Juliette much more than in any other performance that I've seen, and I definitely did not want to be her; whereas in "Romeo and Juliet" the movie, Romeo and Juliet's relationship was so romanticized that I was jealous of Juliet and wanted to be her because I wanted to be that desperately in love.  I guess the performance tonight just made me think about not only how a certain text (in this case the play "Romeo and Juliet") can involve an encounter with "difference," making/destroying a wall between "self" and "other," but also about how the presentation and translation of an individual text can direct the making/destroying of the wall of "self" and "other."  I'm getting confused in my own words now, but the basic gist that I'm getting at is that there are so many different levels of "self" versus "other"-- within a text, within the translation or performance of a text, between different texts, etc.

P.S. Sorry Erika that I did not read your essay until it was too late.  But hey, we have another one due on Monday =)

11/3

I can't write today.  Bush is our president. 

11/2

I can't peel my eyes away from presidential race...the numbers just keep changing...Ohio needs to pull through

11/1

Just a few notes from today's class:

1.  Antony is an embarassing figure, a lush, all he can do is party, but before he was with Cleopatra he was one of the most accomplished Roman soldiers.

2.  Antony's last chance to redeem himself is to commit suicide (the ultimate act of discipline and self control), but he just can't seem to do it.  I guess Cleopatra really has transformed him, where is the accomplished and "manly" Roman soldier described in the history books?

3.  Focalizing character is one that is supposed to channel your perspective.  Something to think about- is Philo a privelaged focalizing character?

4.  Committing suicide was the ultimate exhibition of self control and discipline.  It was taking care of it yourself, although I do see Nicole's argument in that for Antony to commit suicide is to evade his problems and Caesar, how is that noble?

10/31

Happy Halloween!

Sorry, no entry for yesterday or today, I'm taking the weekend off.

10/29

     I was talking to my mom today about what this class is about, explaining the idea of "self" versus "other," and she told me to watch "Angels in America."  It was a miniseries on HBO about how AIDS has devastated the gay community (that's an oversimplification, but I haven't seen it, so I'm just going with what she said).  My mom said that it was a wonderful miniseries that forced you to see things differently, the same idea as this class-- to see the "other" as part, or at least not entirely different, than your "self."  Anyways, I really want to watch it now, so if anyone is interested, let me know. 

10/28

A few thoughts on Antony and Cleopatra-

1.  Antony is annoying.  In the movie that we watched he is seriously like a puppy at Cleopatra's heels.  In reading further in the play, I've only found more proof of his patheticness.

2.  Cleopatra rocks.  She knows how to always stay one ahead of Antony, getting what she wants and making Antony looks ridiculous. I find Cleopatra to be very entertaining.

3.  Lepidus is suck a suckup, and nothing he says really means anything.  Every time he talks I just want to tell him to shut up.

4.  Pompey is arrogant, and I'm not sure how this play ends, but I know that he is going to die.  In Act 2, scene 1 he does not show the gods proper respect; I recognize ate in his character and suspect that he is going to pay for it.

5.  Enobarbus sounds like he is almost in love with Cleopatra.  In Act 2, scene 2 when he describes her, his report is not only favorable, but almost to the point of dotage.  Does Enobarbus, by being so close to Antony, have similar feelings for Antony's love?   

10/27

Just a few quots on this project:

"Linguistic play is necessary to break up or destabilize ways of thinking, speaking, and writing that are already programmed and in place." -J. Hillis Miller

"[...] we see that as perception becomes habitaul, it becomes automatic.  Thus, for example, all of our habits retreat into the area of the unconsciously automatic; if one remembers the sensations of holding a pen or of spreaking in a foreign language for the first time and compares that with his feeling at performing the action for the ten thousandth time, he will agree with us."

"Habitualization devours works, clothes, furniture, one's wife, and the fear of war. 'If the whole complex lives of many people go on unconsciously, then such lives are as if they had never been.'  And art exists that one may recover the sensation of life, it exists to make one feel things, to make the stone stony.  The purpose of art is to impart the sensation of things as they are perceived and not as they are known.  The technique of art is to make objects "unfamiliar," to make forms difficult, to increase the difficulty and length of perception because the process of perception is an aesthetic end in itself and must be prolonged.  Art is a way of experiencing the artfulness of an object; the object is not important."

"Difference is an encounter with the other, with that which is recognizable, nameable, and knowable (to an extent), but which is not part of the self or the immediate experience of the self."

10/26

     All right, today I’m going to get into Aeschylus’s Persians…

     A little background information: Persians was first performed in front of an Athenian audience at the City Dionysia, a five-day-long Greek festival celebrating the god Dionysus (god of wine, representing not only an alcoholic drink, but also ecstacy and deception, sex and fertility, poetry and singing, masks and theatre).  Audience members traveled far to come to this festival.  They sat with their village.  The whole event celebrated the Athenian culture, so it makes sense that much of Aeshcylus’s Persians does the same, solidifying the Athenians’ identity, their sense of “self.”

     Using the poetics of falterity (through the construction of “otherness”) Aeschylus makes the Persians seem really different.  They wear rich clothing, in comparison to the Athenians’ simple tunics.  They use bows instead of spears; there’s an idea of Greek discipline versus Persian disorder.  All of the Persians names just sound weird.  Much of the content of the play creates xenophobia. 

     However, Aeschylus’s description is not that simple; the play does not wholly paint the Persians as a barbarian, foreign tribe – as “others.”   Through the character of Atossa, Aeschylus complicates the idea of “self” versus “other.”  While Atossa is Persian, making her an “other” to the Athenians, Aeschlus emphasizes her maternal role (mother literally to her son Xerxes and mother metaphorically to her empire Persia) to place her in a sympathetic light so that the Athenians cannot automatically be hostile towards her.  This maternal motif, coupled with Atossa’s function as a device for introducing similar characteristics between the two opposing powers, forces the Athenians to view the Persians not as a completely savage horde, but as people somewhat similar to themselves.  

     I thought that the performance of Persians that our class saw at the Aurora Theatre went over the top emphasizing Atossa’s maternal role.  The Atossa character was completely overacted (I’d say almost to a ridiculous point).  She seemed really fragile too- breaking down or getting worked up almost constantly.  She even came on stage at the end of the play to lead Xerxes off stage by the hand, which doesn’t happen in Aeschylus’s version.  If anything, the performance confirmed what I though about Atossa- that she was a bit oblivious about everything going on, but was passionate and anxious still about what was happening abroad because she wanted to see the safe return of her son.

     Just a little personal note, I saw the play from a really political view.  Everything seemed in some way to relate to the U.S.’s invasion of Iraq.  The United States seemed to be the Persians- their leader not really possessing any “leader” qualities, one of their other leaders not even knowing where they were invading, and basically the whole nation being so arrogant that they are not even aware of the possibility of failure.  I can’t say much about the similarities between the Athenians and the Iraqis because I don’t know much about either, and I think there is still more aftermath to come of the American invasion of Iraq.  The play also seemed to encompass more of the American public- the chorus being broken up into four different characters made each member of the chorus seem very distinct -- a different part of society.  Furthermore, the way that the stage was set up allowed me to see a bunch of different people in the audience and their reactions to what was going on, making each person in the audience an additional chorus member.  And when Xerxes entered in camo I thought he was a present-day army soldier.  There are multiple other parallels relating Aeschylus’s play to present-day affairs.

10/25

     I plan on getting caught up on texts that we have read in class this entry.  That means Cortazar, Gogol, Lu Xun, and Aeschylus.  Then I'll be where we are in class- at Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra- and ready for class tomorrow.

     The second story that we read by Cortazar was entitled “The Library of Babel.”  I was late switching into this class, so I was not there the day that we read this and discussed it.  As a result, it was really confusing to me and never completely clarified.  The basics of the story were interesting to think about though- the idea that there is a twenty-two letter alphabet, the books in the library may only differ by a single letter or comma, and there is a search for the books that are smaller than natural books, omnipotent, illustrated, and magical.  First, why a twenty-two letter alphabet?  If the reader is supposed to be thinking differently, why did Cortazar make the number of letters in the alphabet in his story only two short of the American alphabet?  Why not eighteen or thirty-six?  Second, it is funny to think of books only differing by punctuation or a letter.  There are so many books written today, would it be possible thousands of years from now to have so many books written on the same subject using each other as sources that they end up being almost the same?  Many things I read today seem to be saying the same thing, could this go so far as to things literally saying the same thing and only changing the place of where a comma is?  I think copyright laws and plagiarism rules would get stricter before that happened.  Third, what story is complete without “the search”?  There is always the search for the killer, the meaning of life, reason, the perfect man/woman, the runaway child, understanding, knowledge, the prison inmate, the Holy Grail, etc., etc., etc.  It seems appropriate that “the search” in a library would be for magical books, but why not the search for the exit, like in the Pagemaster? Once again, drawing on other books could lead to all literary texts being literally the same, minus a period here or letter there. It’s head-spinning to think about.  But that’s the point.  The Library of Babel” is one of Cortazar’s famous labyrinth stories.  He’s big on mirrors, geometric shapes, etc. because the symbolize complexity.  The story itself is structured like a spiral- it keeps going and going.  It utilizes mathematical law and is pseudo-religious (the religious overtones are apparent in the title- “The Library of Babel,” as in the Biblical story of “The Tower of Babel”).  The story displays multiple theories, but no final one.  It is unlimited but periodic.  It has endlessly repeating variations, which is an oxymoronic statement in itself.  There are multiple levels of difference- stability vs. flux, repetition vs. variation- that never are completely resolved.  As I already said, it’s a spiral that just keeps going and going, so I can’t quite come to any conclusion on it.

     The second story that we read by Gogol was entitled “The Nose.”  It is about a man who wakes up with no nose, goes around trying to find it, has a few comical encounters, and finally gets his nose back.  What is really entertaining is the main character is more concerned about the social ramifications of being noseless than the scary fact that he is noseless.  Why is he noseless?  Where did his nose go? How?  How is his face just clean, not bloody?  Was the nose walking around town by itself, a giant nose dressed with feet?  Or was his nose on someone else’s face?  How does it cleanly get back on his face?  There are huge details missing from this story.  To quote the example intro paragraph that was handed out in class, “by leaving the details and questions of how and why the nose leaves the face of Kovalev a mystery, Gogol is able to subtly compare how the concept of rank and nobility is an accepted farce in Russia.  Just as how people accept and do not question the disappearance, bipedality, or vocal abilities of Kovalev’s nose, nobody questions the ranks or prestige of high ranking individuals.” The details are missing on purpose.  It is draw your attention to everything that Kovalev is concerned about- all the superficial worried of a superficial identity.   I thought it was an entertaining and thought-provoking (dare I say correct?) societal commentary.

     Up next we have Lu Xun’s “A Madman’s Diary.”  This is a remake of “Diary of a Madman,” and it is interesting to think about the ideas presented in “Library of Babel” in the context of remakes.  Could they all eventually become the same?  The titles definitely sound the same.  Anyway, that’s beside the point…on to the actual story.  “A Madman’s Diary” was written in 1911, a watershed year in China because the imperial monarchy died.  The Chinese Republic was founded because they wanted to create a western lifestyle (democracy?).  Before 1911, Chinese authors wrote in classical Chinese (which is Latin to Europe).  “A Madman’s Diary” is one of the first stories to be written in a language more closely related to what the Chinese actually spoke at the time.  Of course I read an English translation.  One major difference in this story as compared to Gogol’s is the introduction of another character.  In the beginning of Lu Xun’s story a friend of the madman is the narrator.  He goes to visit the madman, but the madman is well by the time he gets there.  So he talks to the madman’s brother and gets the madman’s diary from the brother.  That whole first part is written in classical Chinese.  Then the language switches along with the content of the story to the madman’s diary entries.  This language change is significant, but why?  What is Lu Xun saying about the friend and the madman?  Are all the people who speak not in classical Chinese mad?  I don’t think so, but it’s an idea.  I’m more interested in the timeframe that this story was written in and why Lu Xun chose to write it than the actual madman’s diary entires.  But that’s just me.  The entries are funny though, and sad.  This is definitely a dark comedy.  The madman thinks that everyone wants to eat him.  His last entry is “Perhaps there are still children who haven’t eaten men?  Save the children…” (138).  This is not a promising entry, or one that exhibits that the madman has gotten better and gone away, like his brother says in the beginning.  Maybe they did eat him! Who knows.

     Okay, I have to go to class now.  So I guess tomorrow’s entry will be on Aeschylus’s Persians.

Adios!

10/24

     I finally figured out how to update my page!  Apparently, the website program is not compatible with Macs, so I’m on my roommate’s PC right now.  Anyway, that’s unimportant.  I am now officially behind in entries, so this is going to be long.  I better get started…

     I will begin with Borge’s “The Other.”  Just to be up front, I am a bit biased on this story because I loved it.  And stories that I love I hate analyzing for fear that I will not do them justice.  But the way that Borges describes his encounter with “the other” and his reactions to this encounter was entertaining, realistic, and also crystallized the idea of “self” versus “other” for me.  My thesis for the essay on this story was that even though Borges accepts that he and “the other” are the same person, he chooses not to develop his relationship with “the other” past this one encounter because he wishes to preserve his “self” and ignore the strangeness of “the other.”  Rereading my essay, I’m not sure if “strangeness” was the right word, but I can’t think of anything better (perhaps I ran into this problem the first time).  My point was that in the beginning, Borges seems interested in “the other.” He voluntarily engages himself in conversation with “the other,” but his curiosity quickly evolves into uneasiness.  He directs the conversation to “safe subjects,” thus choosing to preserve his “self” and not resolve his encounter with “difference.”  He does not try to make “the other” part of his “self,” completely recognizable and knowable.  This makes “the other” strange, or odd, different, foreign, abnormal, unfamiliar, or just plain weird.  That was my take on the story, but I also have a problem analyzing stories that I really like because I don’t like picking them apart.  It just feels wrong.  So I feel that it is only right to add another reaction on the story; one that isn’t biased (well, obviously all reactions are biased, but one that is not afraid of divulging into the story for fear of not doing it justice).  Someone else in our class though that “writing allows Borges to deal with his experience as a story, which make the entire situation less foreign to him.  And the act of writing itself allows Borges to assert a certain amount of control over the events that transpire”.  I only read the first paragraph of this person’s essay, so I can’t go into much detail, but basically I agree with this idea.  Borges does not develop his relationship with “the other,” and writes a story about the encounter in hopes to make it not so strange (and scary maybe?).  I can’t go much farther extrapolating this person’s thoughts on “The Other,” so onto the next story.

     The next story we read was “Axolotol.”  This story is different from “The Other” in that “the other” becomes “the self” in “Axolotl.”  The main character, the “self” in question, visits an axolotl, the “other,” religiously.  He then becomes an axolotl himself.  I liked this story too, but it was not as realistic as “The Other” to me.  I’m not sure why meeting a version of oneself as a young man should be more realistic than a man turning into an animal, perhaps because the separation between the “self” and “other” in Borge’s story does not seem as distinct as the separation between a man and animal in “Axolotl.”  The idea of a man actually becoming an animal just does not sit well with me, even in my imagination.  It reminds me of that story where the man goes to an island that’s like paradise and talks to the birds.  He thinks that everything is great, until he starts turning into a bird himself.  He freaks out, uses his bird wings to fly home, and he changes back into a man.  I read the story in third grade, and “Axolotl” instantly reminded me of it.  Maybe that is why Axolotl did not seem as realistic to me or worth as much attention as “The Other” as a specimen of analysis between the “self” versus “other” idea.  It instead just seemed like a children’s story for library time in third grade (where I first heard the other story I talked about).   But there were other people in class who though that “Axolotl” was worth the extra attention for developing their ideas of “self” versus “other,” and they chose to write about this story for the assigned essay.  One person’s thesis was that “the narrator is able to cross the boundary between ‘self’ and ‘other’ and become an axolotl because they are so different from him that he cannot define and distinguish himself by contrast and he cannot use classic modes of distinction to set himself apart.”  This person thought completely differently about “Axolotl” than I did.  Whereas I thought that the distinction between “self” and “other” was so extreme that it was not worth analyzing as much, this person thought that this extreme unfamiliarity was worth extra attention because it is why the narrator could not define and distinguish himself from the axolotl.  What I thought was too abstract and unrealistic to look into, this person thought was key in the development of the idea of “self” versus “other.”  It is interesting to note, and I suppose that I should look at literary texts without being biased by some story that I read in third grade.  It is something that I will work on, but for now, on to the next story that we read.

     Reading over my notes for Gogol’s “Diary of a Madman,” I seem to have this problem with associating things from my childhood with literary texts in more than one example.  In my one page response to “Diary of a Madman” I wrote about 101 Dalmations.  When I read the part of the story where Ivanovich overhears the dogs talking I immediately thought of the dogs talking in 101 Dalmations.  And when Ivanovich talks about dogs being extraordinary politicians I instantly thought of the “bark alarm” in 101 Dalmations.  It’s fun to wonder if dogs have systemized political systems and alarm systems.  In case you have not noticed by now, I love to go off on tangents.  But back to Gogol’s story.  My thesis for the essay on this story was that “in Aksenty’s society, he can imagine himself however he likes as long as he maintains his social position, but when he flamboyantly acts like someone of a higher social ranking he pays the consequences.  Aksenty’s self image ultimately fuels his demise.”  Hopefully my thesis is understandable enough.  A basic synopsis of my evidence is my concluding paragraph, as follows:

“By asserting his imagined self image, by acting out of his social class, Aksenty Ivanovich pays the consequences.  In the beginning, his fantasized self image is like a comfort factor, a type of therapy to keep his spirits up.  He believes himself to be a noble man, but does not make his beliefs known and goes by unnoticed.  Then his fantasy is challenged, and he gets defensive, along with bolder and crazier.  His health continues to spiral downward, and along with that his ascension up the social ladder until he reaches a point where he is the King of Spain.  He unfortunately puts his beliefs into action, presenting himself as a king and drawing attention to himself.  He is taken to an insane asylum, and is beaten there for continuing to act out of place.  This is the end for someone who tries to overstep the bounds of the social hierarchy: a gradual downfall.  Aksenty’s self image goes hand in hand with his mental ruin, actually fueling his ultimate demise.”

I hope that the previous paragraph got my point across, but I don’t exactly want to write my entire five-page essay on a weblog.  (Note to Erica, Sarah, Nicole, and myself: maybe we should do links to our essays; they go a lot more in depth to our thoughts about the literary texts that we are reading and they are polished versions that should be easy to understand).

     Well, I am going to get dinner.  So that is all for now.  I know that I am not all the way caught up yet and that I skipped some stories, so I still have more work to do.  But then that is the point of this weblog, a work in progress to keep track of our thoughts and help us organize them for later in the semester.

     So until my next entry, ciao!

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