The idea that there is no such thing as an "original" has been bugging me for a bit.  It's not that I don't believe the idea but I'm kind of baffled that it could actually be true.  Yet if 'truth is a construction,' hmmm... I won't go there at the moment.  But if everything has been done before, what's left to do?  I remember we had a class discussion on originality and some of my notes included:

• more original poets are the ones who are more aboriginal, pertaining to roots, or something existing before.
• you can't be original
• There is no originality, only imitations of what's happened before. 
• That the word radical stems from roots; so ironically "radical" can means: of or going to the root or origin, fundamental; or extreme, drastic change; radical contains opposites within its definition.

I also found a quote I wrote down that I believe Sarah said pertaining to a discussion on "real" stories.  She said something to the effect of, "everything is a real story because everything is an imitation of a story that's already happened."  Well put is it not?

So all this talk and writing about the impossibility of something that's original seems kind of distressing.  What's the point if everything has already been done?  Then I stumbled across a poem in the local magazine "Outside Bozeman."  And the author was none other than our creative writing professor Greg Keeler.  The title, "Hey Diddle Diddle."  Wait a sec!  Didn't we just recite that nursery rhyme in class the other day?  Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed to see such fun, and the dish ran away with the spoon.  It just rolls off the tongue nicely, nonsense that is.

Back to Keeler's version, which goes:

'The cat, the fiddle, the cow, / the moon, the dog, the dish / and the spoon - they all made / some weird kind of sense when / I was a kid. So did the frog and / the princess - all that stuff.  But / when I neared adulthood, it all / went poof.  If I wanted to site a / cow doing the moon thing, I had / to lie on my back in the dirt at / the rodeo on a full-moon night, / and even in that posture, I had / to be whacked on Jack Daniels / and pretend the bull was a cow. / The rest always seemed to fall / into place.  Some cat played / fiddle on the p.a. while my little / gal laughed like a dog.  The cop / who cuffed me was fat as a / platter and dragged me away as / a looney tune.  It wasn't a stretch / to imagine myself as a spoon.'   -Greg Keeler, in Outside Bozeman

And voila, there you have a new, I would call 'original,' rendition of the famous nursery rhyme.  Sure Keeler didn't come up with the nursery rhyme himself, but by adhering to roots, not only does he appeal to a wide audience  - there can't be many people who haven't heard hey diddle diddle - he displays his creative ability to imitate, through variation, what's already happened before.  Oh and on pages 97-98 Frye writes: "But any serious study of literature soon shows that the real difference between the original and the imitative poet is simply that the former is profoundly imitative. Originality returns to the origins of literature, as radicalism returns to its roots."  

So there you have it, to be original one must imitate, to be radical return to roots and someday you may become immortal by means of the pen.  After all the pen is mightier than the sword - a sword surely can't make you immortal.   

Posted by bmcycleski at 5:30 PM PDT

Updated: Sunday, 2 November 2008 5:54 PM PDT

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Today's class definitely fit the spooky theme of the day.  In fact it was somewhat of an apocalyptic epiphany of a class.  

After our critics presented, professor Sexson dived right into a discussion of anagogy, myth, religion, immortality, and epiphanies with the help of Jon's blog - which everyone should read, he deserved a much bigger star than he chose.

We discussed Freud's war between the pleasure principle and the reality principle, between those who sleep in and those students who make it to their 8 o'clock classes.  And unfortunately we're all under the spell of the reality rule.  

The word quixotic was brought up, people who pursue the impossible dream, resemble Don Quixote, are extravagantly chivalrous, or romantic, visionary, impractical, or impracticable.  We all know someone or have been someone like that.

Then the idea that immortality can be achieved through literary fame was mentioned, that one's reputation can last forever through their stories.  So in a sense, by writing, creating art, or criticizing an author's thoughts can become immortal, and so are they.  

Professor Sexson also encouraged us all to "waste" our time by indulging in art: reading, playing or listening to music, writing, painting, and so on.  By "wasting" our time with the arts, rather than t.v., movies, partying, ect, we give our moments - our time - their highest possible value.  I would also add anything that can be used as material for art; engaging in sports, the outdoors, socializing, because if life imitates art and art imitates life then by "wasting" our time in both we are constantly striving to give our existence its highest possible value.

Towards the end of the class we returned to Frye, citing a couple quotes on pages 136-137 on the theory of myths.  We also became familiar with the terms Kenosis, emptying; and Plerosis, or filling.  With all this Dr. Sexson brought up the seasons, the sun rising and falling, sun-gods, tree-gods, that the world of myth is the world of metaphor, the world of reality is like the world of similes.  Somewhere when we were going over class time, Dr. Sexson mentioned children, their innocence and comparisons using metaphors.  So in a way, children are little gods, ruling the world of myth, and frolicking in imagination land.        

Posted by bmcycleski at 12:24 PM PDT

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First off: Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Sexson for their premiere of My Book and Heart Shall Never Part!!  To see their hard work culminate to a couple hours in one night must have been very rewarding, although a little frustrating because of technology: damn dvds and their skiiping.  What if the show had been a book or a stroyteller, or even a play, which it somewhat felt like?  Would it have then felt even more literary without the technology aspect?  I don't know it was just a random thought.  The movie was great! 

I really liked how their were mini-stories throughout the bigger story.  There was Little Goodie Two Shoes and Little Red Riding Hood, and my what a ferocious wolf that was! What big fangs it had! What a gorgeous bonnet it had!  And the commentary throughout about the little books, literacy, children and nature was tastefully and nicely done.  Not to much, not to little, just right.  I recall one scene where Mrs. Sexson and Mr. Sexson took turns reading the stroy 'The House that Jack Built,' reciting the whole tale as each teller told the next longer line and so on.  It was very effective.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell my adventure that happened before the show and because of which I almost missed the movie.  I invited my mother to join me as she has her masters in Library Science and so knows a little about books, especially children's books.  She was a librarian for a few years at an elementary school in Belgrade and now she runs the after school program at Hawthorne Elementary.  So to begin our night we went to the Bistro to spend a gift card she received from a parent.  It was around 6:15pm when we arrived at the restaurant.  I ordered a beer, my mother had a Pelligrigio and then we ordered an app and soup.  It was just after my third or fourth sip of beer that I realized I left my ticket at home.  Not to worried, I told my mom who laughed at my forgetfullness.  She decided to make sure she had hers' and started rummaging through her purse, to no avail.  She remembered putting it in her bag at home and that it could be in her car.  So while she ran out to look in her car, I chuckled to myself at both our furgetfulness and proceeded to drink my beer to the halfway mark.  

By now it was 6:30.  I didn't have my ticket and my mom couldn't find her's.  She came back from the car and looked in her purse again.  Finally she pulled the ticket from a pocket she hadn't checked before.  Then she offered me the keys to go get mine.  I thanked her, told her I didn't need them and that I could probably go on my bike just as fast.  So I pedaled home as fast as my legs would let me, snatched the ticket and hurried back.  Coasting down the sidewalk in front of the Wilson I saw the limo - carrying the stars of the movie to the Emerson - turn off of Main Street.  I arrived back at the table to the suprise of my mother only 10 minutes after I'd left.  It was 6:48.  We stuffed our faces with shirmp and soup. I guzzled my beer and we paid and left.  We walked into the theater only minutes before Dr. Sexson gave the introduction.  As we sat down I realized nobody checked our tickets and I probably wouldn't have needed it since my name was assigned to the number and I'm in two of Sexson's classes.  After all that fuss - not to mention I didn't get to have a second beer - we didn't even have to present our tickets to an usher.  But, as my book and heart shall never part, neither will my bike; a reader must trun the page to go a little farther, as must a rider take another pedal.  

Posted by bmcycleski at 12:40 PM PDT

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I read Heather's blog about 'it' in W.S. poem and Dante's Epistle and a small lightbulb grew a little brighter.  Heather writes that the 'it' in The Idea of Order at Key West could be the abstract presence or essence that makes us all human, what makes the singer sing as she walks on the beach. 

As abstract and complex as this 'it' is, this isn't the first time I've encounted this dianoia.  For a class last fall I wrote a paper on Wordworth's ode Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood and Percy Shelley's Hymn to Intellectual Beauty.  In the text that these poems were in, a footnote mentioned that Shelley was inspired by Wordworth's poem when he wrote his.  This little footnote was my inspiration to write the paper and in doing so I became quite familiar to with these two poems.  I know Dr. Sexson has mentioned WW's Immortality poem in kid lit and I think also in 300 but I'm not sure if much has been discussed about Shelley's Hymn.  And as a big fan of Shelley I may focus more on him, but as we now know everthing connects.

The first four lines of Shelley's Hymn are as follows:  "The awful shadow of some unseen Power / Floats though unseen among us, visiting / This various world with as inconstant wing / As summer winds that creep from flower to flower;"  Throughout the poem Shelley refers to this 'unseen Power' as 'Spirit of Beauty,' Thy light,' 'awful loveliness' and 'spirit fair.'  

In Wordsworth's ode we encounter a similar use of 'it' as in Wallace Stevens, when describing some power, spirit, light or essence - good word, thanks Heather.  At line 67 Wordsworth writes " Shades of the prison-house begin to close / Upon the growing boy, / But he beholds the light and whence it flows, / He sees it in his joy; / The youth who daily farther from the east / Must travel, still is nature's preist,  / And by the vision splendid / Is on his way attended: / At length the man perceives it die away / And fade into the light of common day."   Powerful stuff huh? As Sexson would say.  This 'it' seems to be the light he mentions or some undefinable spirit.

With all this said I believe that the it in W.S. Idea of Order is exactly what WW and Shelley are trying to describe in their poems: 'it' is the vauge, ambiguous unseen power and essence that makes us human; it is all around us all the time, floating, shining, influencing us to sing, write poetry, laugh, and entertain.  As hard as it is to define, it is known by all humans, it is the unconcious 'aura' - more on this when Walter Benjamin speaks - thats makes us conscious, that makes us love and hate, laugh and cry.

I can't keep writing about this without becoming somewhat afraid of it because it is what keeps us alive, it is our breathing and blinking, our thoughts and emotions.  And without it we die and no one knows what happens then.  

Well I can't end this on such a scary note so I'll discuss Shelley a bit more.  Through the Romantics were mostly anti-religion, as am I, it always seems to be associated with God and religion, even WW references God in his Ode.  What's interesting is that WW had these radical thoughts on Immortality, Childhood and it when he was young; but as he aged he became less radical and turned to religion for answers, support, or comfort which is to bad because he was such a unique brain. 

Shelley on the other hand was even more anti-religious - I'm in the process of reading 'The Necessity of Atheism' - and since he drowned at a rather yound age we don't know where his thoughts would have led him.  But in the Hymn he writes in stanza 5, "I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed - / I was not heard, I saw them not / When musing deeply on the lot / Of life, at that sweet time when birds are wooing / All vital things that wake to bring / News of buds and blossoming. / Sudden thy shadow fell on me - / I shrieked and clapsed my hands in ecstasy!"   This last line makes me laugh as I imagine Shelley shrieking like a little girl - hopefully Dr. Sexson does an imitation of this - at the sight of his own shadow.  Notice the use of 'poisonous names,' which for me refers to God, Jesus, and or Christ.

If anyone wants to read the paper I wrote about these poems I could find it and put a link up; as for WW and Shelley's poems google 'em if you want to read them yourself.         

Posted by bmcycleski at 4:49 PM PDT

Updated: Monday, 20 October 2008 5:53 PM PDT

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**If a student can recite Wallace Steven's whole poem "The Idea of Order at Key West," no hints, cheats or any help, should he or she be excused from taking the test or at least get bonus points?....**

Notes from class, Wed. Student questions.

D.H. Lawrence said "Trust the          , not the             ." (tale, teller)

Centripetal vs centrifugal : inwardly vs. outwardly.  The formal phase of symbols (images) stresses the centripetal.

In which box of the Theory of modes does the pharmakos (scapegoat) fit?  Ironic comedy.

Baseball passage in Frye: pg 46 the pharmakos aka umpire.

All literature is displaced myth.

Memorize aristotle's definition of tragedy:  an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude.

The word dromenon is something 'done,' usually an action as in dramas and tragedy.

In Don Quixote, Claire's passage, page 400 something, I think 411-412; Don's conversation with the canon who believes that all literature should be didactic, that is teach.  Yes literature should be didactic but it should also entertain...

Jiwon's defenition of Logos: the power to create through the agency of the word. 'She sang beyond the genius of the sea..'

The sense of            is higher in tragedy than in comedy.  (reality)

All comedy is directed at who?  The inflexible person.

(Blank) gives us the brass world, (blank) gives us the golden world.   (Nature) (poetry)

Abrams grid.

Frye page 350, " All structures of words are partly rhetorical and hence literary."  First quote of class.

Plato banishes poetry in book 10 of 'The Republic.' Why?He says they're liars, derranged, and usless.

Literature should teach, have good morals, not just (blank). (entertain)

Frye pg. 39 Pathos, belongs in low-mimetic of ironic box; explioting of emotions, tear-jerker

metho, ethos, and dianoia are plot or story, character, and theme.

Shelley's last line in his Defense: "Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world."   'The maker's rage to order words of the sea!'

which phase of symbols corresponds with the low-mimetic mode? The descriptive (signs)

polysemus = many meanings; language with meanings on many levels.  

According to Sidney, "The poet never affirmith anything and therefore never (blank)."                                   (lies)

Letteraly speaking, according to Frye, what the poet meant is the poem.

Tautology. Define it tautalogically. Hin, circular nonsense, Sarah Palin

According to Shelley, the imagination is superior to (blank).  (reason / logic)

In regards to this class an epihany is a sudden manifestation of the devine. Lightbulb 150 watts!

Frye page 100, Lycidas reference: Receive entire liberal education by tracing the archetypes of one poem.  What's all this $$$ for then?

The alazon, aka, the imposter, learned crank

At the end of class we talked about metonyme and synecdoche (sorry bout the spelling) as a fererence where a part stands for the whole.

The word 'poet' used as the general term for artistic creator.  

I bet we should also have a good understanding of the Theory of modes grid:

                       Tragedy              Comedy             Thematic

 Myth

Romance

High-mimetic

Low-mimetic

Ironic

And The Theory of Symbols phases depicted as a globe, kinda:

                                       Literal (motif)

    Anagogical (monad)                              Descriptive (Signs)

                 Archetypal (myth)                                 

                                                          Formal (images)

And how the two theories loosely correspond:

Anagogical (monads)  : Mytic mode - fictions and themes relating to divine or quasi-divine beings and powers.

Archetypal (myths) : Romatic mode

Formal (images)  : high-mimetic

Descriptive phase (signs)  : low-mimetic mode 

And literal phase (motifs)  : Ironic mode

 I believe it was in Frye, can't remember where though, but a literary work is not real it's hypothetical.   

Posted by bmcycleski at 6:59 PM PDT

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As I finally breach the 200 mark with Cervantes I keep finding passages where The Knight of the Sorrowful Face and Sancho confuse themselves as to what "reality" (imagine me holding both hands up and making 'quote' gestures with my fingers) they are living.  Their adventures, as absurd as they may be, seem to grow more and more real as the story develops.

At the bottom of page 197 on to 198: ' "I thank you for your good intentions, friend Sancho," responded Don Quixote, "but I want you to realize that all the things I am doing are not jokes but very real; otherwise, I would be contravening the rules of chivalry that command us never to lie, or else suffer the punishment of those who relapse into sin, and doing one thing instead of another is the same as lying.  And so, my head hitting must be real, solid, and true, with no sophistry or fantasy about them.  And it will be necessary for you to leave me some lint bandages to heal my wounds, since it was our misfortune to lose the balm." ' 

This is the scene where Don Quixote is sending Sancho back to Toboso to deliver his sorrowful letter to the lady Dulcinea; meanwhile Don Quixote will remain in the "depths of nature" and do crazy, unthinkable things: get naked and smash his head on rocks - though these things have already been done in the books Don read, real 'original' there Don.

And of course Sancho only encourages such foolishness, page 202 after DQ recites his letter Sancho says, "By my father's life, that's the highest thing I've ever heard. Confound it, but how your grace says everything anyone could want, and how well The Knight of the Sorrowful Face fit into the closing! I'm telling the truth when I say your grace is the devil himself, and there's nothing your grace doesn't know."  

The truth! The devil himself! Nothing your grace doesn't know! There is no end to Don Quixote's "reality."

Nowimagine it as the text letterally says, "And hastily he pulled off his breeches and was left wearing only his skin and shirttails, and then, without further ado, he kicked his heels twice, turned two cartwheels with his head head down and his feet in the air, and revealed certain things;"  Which of course Sacho was fortunate enough to witness.  My question: Does performing cartwheels naked actually work to show a man's affection for a lady?    

Posted by bmcycleski at 7:32 PM PDT

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Though we've fairly much exhausted Sidney in class, and I notice the shift to Shelley, we can always learn more from another look even if this blog is behind.

 In class on Monday the quote about the poet 'freely ranging in the zodiac of his own wit' was discussed, with a little confusion as to who wrote it; but it does belong to Sidney and is located in the middle of the page where he writes about nature - the word Dr. Sexson asked us to define for kid lit.  Sidney writes in paragraph 9, "There is no art delivered unto mankind that hath not the works of nature for his principle object, without which they could not consist, and on which they so depend as they become actors and players, as it were, of what nature will have set forth."  Art and nature consist, they exist together.  And could it be that neither could exist without the other? If art is the imitation of nature, nature is somewhat defined by art in an elaborate, imaginative way.  On wed. in my notes I wrote, slightly paraphrased, that the poet shows us the society we could live in , ought to live in, and can live in; or something to that effect, the poet's definition of nature of sorts.  

After the quote I just used by Sidney he gives the reader explanations of the different professions and how they study "nature."  

'The lawyer saith what men have determined; the historian what men have done' - though in a biased perspective; 'grammarian, the rules of speech; the rhetorician and logician give artificial rules; the physician weigheth the nature of man's body, and the nature of things helpful or hurtful to it.' "And the metaphysic, though it be in the second and abstract notions, and therefore be counted supernatural, yet doth he, indeed, build upon the depth of nature."

The 'depth of nature,' I like this phrase, maybe I'll try to write a poem with that as the title.  When you look up nature in the dictionary you'll find an abundance of meanings that begin to display how deep the depth of nature is.  The poets job it seems is to expose as much of that depth of nature as he can, for it seems to me that the depth of nature has no bottom - unlike us humans.

 More thoughts to come, first I gotta go to work and think more about this. Check back if your interested.  

Posted by bmcycleski at 10:59 AM PDT

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I received the new volume of Poetry, yes I subscribe to poetry, and there was a poem that stuck out to me.  It somewhat relates to what we have been discussing in class and I try to explain; but first here's the poem:

by, Craig Arnold

  Uncouplings

Ther is no I in teamwork

but there is a two maker

there is no I in together

but there is got three

a get to her

the I in relationship

is the heart I slip on

a lithe prison

in all communication

we count on a mimic

(I am not uncomic)

our listening skills

are silent killings

there is no we in marriage

but a grim area

there is an I in family

also my fail

Kind of cool, huh?  What I found interesting was the verse about communication, mimic, and comic.  The idea that poetry is an imitation, or mimics what it intends, is how the poem communicates.  I doubt this is just a coincidence because it makes sense when you think about it: in order to communicate something the teller often mimics language, actions, or emotions.  A good story teller mimics things elaboratly and honestly.  You wouldn't believe someone who told you the Hansel and Gretel story if, during the scene where the parents abondon their children in the woods, the teller gets excited and happy as if they're about to arrive at a carnival; the scene is spooky and needs to be told slowly in order to project the fear of the children.

I also like the listening skills and silent killings.  With our listening skills we experience fake or silent killings, a cathasis or purging of the anxiety of death.  I don't think you have to restrict killings to killings.  It can be a synecdoche of sorts, silent love, fear, wonder, excitment; the catharsis of whatever the text does.

Posted by bmcycleski at 7:53 PM PDT

Updated: Monday, 6 October 2008 8:35 PM PDT

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One of our assignments for the weekend was to find a "lightbulb" passage in Frye.  At the end of the Theory of Symbols essay Frye discusses culture, religion, and politics; his use of culture works as a conceit of sorts with literature. 

Frye writes on pg. 127, "Just as no argument in favor of a religious or political doctrine is of any value unless it is an intellectually honest argument, and so guarantees the autonomy of logic, so no religious or political myth is either valuable or valid unless it assumes the autonomy of culture, which may be provisionally defined as the total body of imaginative hypothesis in a society and its tradition."

For me this basically proclaims that any religious or political argument or myth is not legitimate unless it reguards and abides the autonomy of logic and culture. If you're like me and need some clarification on autonomy it means the independence or freedom of logic and culture, or the self government of logic and culture. 

    Frye continues, "To defend the autonomy of culture in this sense seems to me the social task of the "intellecutal" in the modern world: if so, to defend its subordination to a total synthisis of any kind, religious or political, would be the authentic form of the trahison des clercs." Next paragraph, "Besides, it is of the essence of imaginative culture that it transcends the limits both of the naturally possible and of the morally acceptable."

    Ok, so if we consider the use of culture as a conceit for literature, than the intellectual - the poet perhaps- is responsible for defending literature - as we have seen, and defending its subordination from a total sythesis of any kind, religious or political.  Notice the big a,n,d; this is important because even the idea of any form of religion or politics in complete control is absolutly terrifying.  Literature as culture in the other paragraph would be fiction: the essence of imaginative literature is that it transcends the limits of both the naturally possible and the morally acceptable.  It's important to notice fiction "transcends" the natural and moral, it goes beyond yet contains the natural and moral.  

I did a little hunting on the trahison des clercs and found out it is a book by Julien Benda. In English it translate as The Betrayal of the Intellectuals, or "The Treason of the Learned."  According to wikipedia, our always trusty source - which I am surprised Dr. Sexson so entusiastically uses, trahison des clercs 'argued that French and German intellectuals in the 19th and 20th century had often lost the ability to reason dispassionately about political and military matters, instead becoming apologists for crass nationalism, warmongering and racism. Benda reserved his harshest criticisms for his fellow Frenchmen Charles Maurras and Maurice Barres. Benda defended the measured and dispassionate outlook of classical civilization, and the internationalism of traditional Christianity, which Benda understood well.'  Yeah, I copy pasted that to save time, but I read it so you shoud too.  

Posted by bmcycleski at 8:39 PM PDT

Updated: Saturday, 4 October 2008 9:28 PM PDT

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Frye writes on page 87, "What the poet meant to say, then, is, literally, the poem itself;" 

On page 78, "a poem's meaning is literally its pattern or integrity as a verbal structure."

The poem "literally" means the poem; I missed that one in class.  The poem is made up of letters which are signs for what noise to make (phonetics).  Letters and noises make up words which add up to phrases then sentences then runon sentences, and comma-spliced sentences and then sentences; that misuse the semicolon.  Then you have a poem, 'letter'ally a concoction of words and letters on a piece of paper with a title and is discussed as a "poem."

All this literal talk made me wonder about something I blogged earlier and a question raised on last Monday's class: What makes us any more real than Batman or Don Quixote?  My answer: absolutly nothing, except maybe an undefinable conscious.  There are pieces of paper inscribed with letters which make up a name, Benjamin Gordon Miller - and a worthless number, that 'say' that is who I am.  I even carry one of these texts in my wallet so I'll always know my story, my name, my weight, height, eye color, a total description of the main character.  Everyone carries a mini-story of themselves on thier license. And that license means "literally," by those letters that that is who you are.  So, why isn't Don Quixote any more real than us?  His license is 900 pages looooooooooooooong!!!!!!!!!!  Maybe we're not as real as Don Quixote...

    Other helpful quotes on literally letters: 

 pg.73, Frye, "Verbal elements understood inwardly or centripetally as parts of a verbal structure, or, as symbols, simply and literally verbal elements, or units of a verbal structure."

pg. 77, Frye, "The literal basis of meaning in poetry"(or any text I would add) "can only be its letters, its inner structure of interlocking motifs."

pg. 79, "On the literal level, where the symbols are motifs, any unit whatever, down to the letters, may be relevant to our understanding. But only large and striking symbols are likely to be treated as signs: nouns and verbs, and phrases built up out of important words."

Posted by bmcycleski at 7:40 PM PDT

Updated: Saturday, 4 October 2008 8:30 PM PDT

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I have been trying to follow as many blogs as possible and see what I can comment on (this is my way of finding something to blog about).  On wed. in class we discussed the canon's argument of literature in Don Quixote on pg 412 and how he believes all lit should be didactic. 

Kari has a nice entry on this subject and makes an excellent point that it is impossible, or nearly so, for the author to control meaning, something we have been discussing all semester so far.  If the author doesn't comlpetely control meaning then it's hard to be certain what lesson is trying to be taught.  Sure a reader can learn something from a book but it is most likely not what the author intended or may be something besides what the author intended.  

Chelsea also has a very insightful blog on this topic.  She discusses how people are discouraged from reading because they are often told what to read rather than reading for interest.  She also makes a good argument that people may not be reading much anymore because if it's not didactic what's the point?  Is there anything to actually learn?  To these people I would say that you are not reading what the text says, the actual verbal pattern; rather a reader approaching a text in a didactic method is constantly thinking centrifugally, about the lesson outside the text.  There may be lessons in nondidactic literature that are hidden so well in the verbal structure of the words that untill a reader takes the time to notice and appriciate this structure they will skip right over what's important or powerful.     

Posted by bmcycleski at 8:58 AM PDT

Updated: Friday, 3 October 2008 9:17 AM PDT

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Check this out.  I live in a condo complex off south 15th and this spring my roommate and his relatives snapped pictures of a contemporary Don Quixote living only condos away from me:

 This is no joke; earlier this spring my roommate and his relatives were outside when this knight marched, very slowly, into the park.  They said his attire was authentic iron armor that clinked with each step.  The knight slowly walked to a tree and proceeded to hit the tree three times with his sword, again very slowly - I guess all knightly items are extremely heavy which is how the knight becomes so strong, duh.  Then he simply walked back to his condo.  One person said he asked him what he was doing and the knight merely responded he was preparing for an upcoming match.  It sounds all to familiar.  

Posted by bmcycleski at 8:24 AM PDT

Updated: Friday, 3 October 2008 8:48 AM PDT

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In Kevin's blog he brings up what we have slightly mentioned in class and that is the distinction of reality vs fiction, in Don Quixote, literature in general and more.  I also noticed some other commentary on this in other students's blogs.

Kevin does a great job discussing this topic so check out his blog for the details. In one spot he writes, "It seems then that fiction may not be so fictitious after all.  Rather its a "real" extension of instincts from ancient history."  I couldn't find the spot in Frye but I remember reading something to the effect that fiction is more powerful when the text is more believable.  Just because something is fiction does not mean it can't be based on reality or contain true material: The Davinci Code.  

In another section in Don Quixote I noticed that our wonderful knight has a fantasy within his fantasy when he believes the daughter of the innkeeper is in love with him and may steal away in the night to come lie with him for a time.  He then even worries about how that would affect his fictiousous relationship with Dulcinea of Toboso.  Our hero keeps getting more and more confused.  This is in chapter 16. What follows is the terrible night of beatings and vomiting at the inn and is absolutly hysterical and absurd.  Cervantes was a genius.

Sarah also writes about Don Quixote as not only imitating a person but the power associated with the person too.  She writes that, "It seems as though Plato would assert that the book is useless because all it represents is a man who lives his life with the purpose of being that which he is not, or, in other words, imitating a knight---that which he would like to be, but never will be."  I can not tell what Sarah actually thinks about this but it got me thinking.  If Don Quixote is imitating what he wants to be, will he actually never "be" that, a chivalrous knight.  Surely our Don Quixote of La Mancha, the man who has read all the literature on knights, is the most probable person who could be a knight.  Even if everyone he encounters disreguards his knight attire and thinks he's crazy, Don Quixote is a knight errant; he wears the proper attire, speaks the language, and follows the laws of the knight. He knows the discourse.  

If the truth in fiction has to do with the verbal structure of the words, then the verbal structures of the words create Don Quixote to be a knight errant who just happens to be living in the wrong time period, and it is absolutly hilarious.     

Posted by bmcycleski at 10:12 PM PDT

Updated: Thursday, 2 October 2008 10:45 PM PDT

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Don't worry DQ is still on north seventh and but will close for the winter so make sure you get your early blizzard soon.  Yes, I am eager for ski season. 

Never mind all that.  This is a blog about my status in Don Quixote.  I'm a little behind, I blame work, on page 135, a fourth of where Claire's at.  Yet since I'm enjoying it so much I don't want to rush my enjoyment, especially in scenes where Don Quizote vomits "more vigorously than if he were a firing musket, everything he had inside, and all of it hit the compassionate squire in the face" (131).  Poor, poor Sancho and then he vomits again too.  Man that potion sure works well...  I can vividly see the two of them drinking this 'balm' Don Quixote made then puking their guts out.  Sound familiar?  Who's been so hungover they've puked?  Hopefull I'm not the only one.  But I bet that night I was just as valiant a Don as Don himself.  And poor Don Quixote didn't have fun the night before, he got beaten and bruised.

So far there have been a number of passages that stood out to me so I con only "imagine" how many more there will be in the next 800 pages - damn I got a long way to go.  

on page 107 after the two adventurers get beaten by the Yanguesans Sancho says " They didn't give me a chane to look at them, because as soon as I put my hand on my sword they made the sign of the cross on my shoulder with their pinewood, so that they took the sight from my eyes and the strength from my feet, knocking me down where I'm lying now, where it doesn't hurt at all to think about whether the beating they gave me with their staffs was an offense or not, unlike the pain of the beating, which will make as much of an impression on my memory as it has on my back."   

Hmmm,  are there any religious untertones resonating out of this verbal structure?  It seems so to me:  they made the sign of the cross on my shoulder, took the sight from my eyes and the strength from my feet. 

Posted by bmcycleski at 9:38 PM PDT

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In class today Sexson brought up scripture and asked me what I considered as scripture.  Raised in bOZeman I have been skiing Bridger my whole life. So yes I could definitely be the ski bum and claim "Bridger is my church!" But I'm not that bad, I hope.  Though I will say that inspiration can come from the wierdest places - standing at the top of morning glory in a blizzard ready to drop into job 3 while thinking about the essay due in the morning.  

Here is the scripture I was referring to: http://www.stepping-up.net/

And if thats my scripture than this is how I pray:

These shots were taken at Bridger on April 4, 2008.  The first pic is papa bear and the second was taken on the lower nose where I found a tricky 20ft air over a slanted dead tree. 

What's your scripture?

Posted by bmcycleski at 6:54 PM PDT

Updated: Wednesday, 24 September 2008 7:21 PM PDT

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