There are two different writing styles that Eggers uses throughout the first part of AHWOSG that I throughly enjoyed.
1. A quick, precise dialogue.
2. Squirrely, argumentative conscience
Throughout this emulation, I want to try to combine these styles while trying to keep a light, humorous tone like Eggers. Here we go...
Once again, Friday has rolled around. After our usual bar shuffle through the streets of Athens, Taylor, Billy, and I stumble back to our house. We lost Kyle along the way. He ran into an old fling and decided to go home with her. It probably won't go well for him. It never does.
"Will you grab me a beer Anthony."
"Sure thing. What's gonna be playing on the tube tonight?"
"I don't know" Taylor said with disdain.
"Where's the remote?"
"Look behind the couch!"
"Found it."
"So what are we watching?"
"I don't care!"
Christ. There is only three beers left...and all the Woodchucks are gone. That's it..I'm getting a mini-fridge. I'll have to smother my own drinks into the house. Damn I'm hungry. I bet Kyle won't mind if I raid his food...
"How about the Big Lebowski?"
"Noway man. I watched that the other day stoned."
"Wanna watch a scary movie?"
"Like a B-lister?"
"I'm tired of watching shitty horror flicks."
"How about Rocky?"
"NO!"
Damn Billy must have a man-crush of Sylvester Stallone or something. He watches a Sly flick at least once a week...I mean I like Rocky, but damn...Pop-Tarts! Score. Ah they're blueberry...dammit Kyle. You're taste in Pop-Tarts is almost as abysmal in your taste of women. Burn...I could go for some First-Blood though. Sly is such a badass in that movie...he's a badass in all his movies...no that movie is all the way in my room...too far.
"Let's just watch a couple episodes of something..."
"That's cool"
"How about some Office?"
"Nah."
"How I Met Your Mother?"
"Anthony, you watch that show literally everyday."
"Yeah man. It's unhealthy"
"You're unhealthy."
"Nice. Comeback tool."
"Well then...since we can't decide...Hot Rod it is..."
"Fine."
"Sounds good."
This is a dilemma my friends and I face on a weekly basis...finding something to watch on Netflix. It truly is a huge event. I guess there's just too many options. However, we do have one rule: Whenever we can't decide within 10 minutes to watch something, we must watch Hot Rod or Pineapple Express. (We alternate between the two.) I can quote both movies verbatim; we're a very indecisive group of men.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
The Musicians
The musicians who serenade the stumbling, rambling men and women of Court, are the greatest servants of today. They bring out some of the most beautiful sounds one may hear, yet they blend in with the most abysmal scenery: the bricks of roads, the walls of buildings. Also, it's amazing how such an amazing sound fills such a large space and then disappears just as quickly as it came.
This microscopic view of Court's lovely performers is seen in all beauty.
The same quickness in which the music disappears is felt the same way when someone falls in love with a passerby and never sees them again. As I sit and ponder my next sentence in a hotel lobby in Tennessee, I look out at all the wonderful events taking place. After a few seconds, my entertainment is gone. These events will never return. The memories of them will soon be replaced with the next beautiful event.
How can something so wonderful, such as the strum of a mandolin or the hum of a violin, be so easily passed by? What do people miss everyday? It is freighting to think of what is missed. So much energy can be spent on such beautiful events only to be never viewed upon. Back in the hotel lobby, no one has seen me.
It can almost be said that beauty and depression are consistent with one another. Court's musicians will always be there for this reminder.
Disclaimer: When I was talking of sitting in the hotel lobby and how no one had noticed me, I was not trying to say I was a beautiful sight to see. I was just trying to shed light on how easy it was for everyone to pass by without noticing me in general.
This microscopic view of Court's lovely performers is seen in all beauty.
The same quickness in which the music disappears is felt the same way when someone falls in love with a passerby and never sees them again. As I sit and ponder my next sentence in a hotel lobby in Tennessee, I look out at all the wonderful events taking place. After a few seconds, my entertainment is gone. These events will never return. The memories of them will soon be replaced with the next beautiful event.
How can something so wonderful, such as the strum of a mandolin or the hum of a violin, be so easily passed by? What do people miss everyday? It is freighting to think of what is missed. So much energy can be spent on such beautiful events only to be never viewed upon. Back in the hotel lobby, no one has seen me.
It can almost be said that beauty and depression are consistent with one another. Court's musicians will always be there for this reminder.
Disclaimer: When I was talking of sitting in the hotel lobby and how no one had noticed me, I was not trying to say I was a beautiful sight to see. I was just trying to shed light on how easy it was for everyone to pass by without noticing me in general.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Attack of the Drones
After struggling all weekend, trying to find what I should write on, I realized I hit a gigantic wall. I thought this would be a great time to finally incorporate a little of my own major: Political Science. Of course, many people hate to even think of politics but I feel many lessons can be learned when hot topic issues are doven further into than just the surface. I promise this will not get preachy. Also, I feel like the subject of this post has been beaten to death over the past couple of years, so just go with it.
At first glance, one might think that this is a literary analysis of Star Wars: Episode II, which is actually titled Attack of the Clones. I'm sure something like this will soon appear on this blog.
When eating at the dining hall and looking up at the televisions or when looking at your favorite news website (if you're cool enough to have one), you see that today's big button issue is Obama's drone program. For those of you who don't know, Obama has been expanding and engaging in several drone attacks across sea. Of course many have criticized the lack of transparency the administration has shown. After hearing some objection during my nightly review of todays news, I became transfixed on why one person could or would want to attack another area filled with such a large sum of innocent civilians just to obtain the death of a select few evil men.
I thought back to one of my favorite science fiction novels: Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. Throughout the novel, and young boy, named Ender, trains to defeat an alien race. Long story short, Ender uses drone like technology to destroy an entire race of living beings and hardly feels connected to the terror he had committed.
When combining both of these scenarios/stories one can begin to wonder the power of the LCD screen. Does it really cause such a disconnection between people? How true is he statement, "Your generation is going to lose the art of face-to-face communication?"
When walking to class through the college green, I get a text (at least once a day) that reads something along the line of "Hey. I just saw you." Thanks I guess? I can not believe how often I get these messages from those who literally pass me at an arms length. I received one of the most disappointing texts from my most recent college crush. When arriving to one of my political law courses, I received a message with the body "Hey. I saw you on the green. I almost tapped on your shoulder but I decided not to. Lol." I was furious. Both with her and myself. Why did she not stop me? Was there a booger hanging from my nose and she was embarrassed to look at me? How did I miss her? Of course, I knew how. I was looking at my phone shuffling through music. I had to realize I also suffer from this disease.
After a drunken escapade, I woke up to another crush I had many months ago. I was dazed and confused by what was going on. I left her house with few words being exchanged and I tried to set up a coffee date to clear the air. Just last week, I got a Facebook message from my drunken mistress with an apology. It had almost been an entire year. She sits in front of me in one of my classes now and she still can hardly hold a conversation with me.
I went to Kroger last sunday for my weekly granola/beer run. I decided to avoid the self-check out line due to the anxiety that ensues once I realize I can hardly work the thing. I stand in line for what seems hours when it ended up only being 5 minutes. I flipped out my iPhone to look at the latest BBC headlines. I saw where they had been refreshed 10 minutes ago. I must have checked them while driving. I was, no joke, reading on what the foreign public thought of America's leader reigning hellfire on bordering nations. I soon came to the realization that the cashier had asked me several times for my Kroger card. I felt like a turd. I slowly handed it to her. When leaving, it dawned on me that my mind, while standing in line at the local Kroger, was halfway across the world. I mind and body were miles and miles away from one another.
Of course, these brief stories about my horrendous dating game and abysmal diet are nowhere near as tragic as the drone program, but I feel as though they are related. The moral of all the scenarios mentioned above is the fact that we are disconnected from most of our actual, physical life. It's very scary to think about. And even those who become conscience of the situation still suffer from it.
At first glance, one might think that this is a literary analysis of Star Wars: Episode II, which is actually titled Attack of the Clones. I'm sure something like this will soon appear on this blog.
When eating at the dining hall and looking up at the televisions or when looking at your favorite news website (if you're cool enough to have one), you see that today's big button issue is Obama's drone program. For those of you who don't know, Obama has been expanding and engaging in several drone attacks across sea. Of course many have criticized the lack of transparency the administration has shown. After hearing some objection during my nightly review of todays news, I became transfixed on why one person could or would want to attack another area filled with such a large sum of innocent civilians just to obtain the death of a select few evil men.
I thought back to one of my favorite science fiction novels: Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. Throughout the novel, and young boy, named Ender, trains to defeat an alien race. Long story short, Ender uses drone like technology to destroy an entire race of living beings and hardly feels connected to the terror he had committed.
When combining both of these scenarios/stories one can begin to wonder the power of the LCD screen. Does it really cause such a disconnection between people? How true is he statement, "Your generation is going to lose the art of face-to-face communication?"
When walking to class through the college green, I get a text (at least once a day) that reads something along the line of "Hey. I just saw you." Thanks I guess? I can not believe how often I get these messages from those who literally pass me at an arms length. I received one of the most disappointing texts from my most recent college crush. When arriving to one of my political law courses, I received a message with the body "Hey. I saw you on the green. I almost tapped on your shoulder but I decided not to. Lol." I was furious. Both with her and myself. Why did she not stop me? Was there a booger hanging from my nose and she was embarrassed to look at me? How did I miss her? Of course, I knew how. I was looking at my phone shuffling through music. I had to realize I also suffer from this disease.
After a drunken escapade, I woke up to another crush I had many months ago. I was dazed and confused by what was going on. I left her house with few words being exchanged and I tried to set up a coffee date to clear the air. Just last week, I got a Facebook message from my drunken mistress with an apology. It had almost been an entire year. She sits in front of me in one of my classes now and she still can hardly hold a conversation with me.
I went to Kroger last sunday for my weekly granola/beer run. I decided to avoid the self-check out line due to the anxiety that ensues once I realize I can hardly work the thing. I stand in line for what seems hours when it ended up only being 5 minutes. I flipped out my iPhone to look at the latest BBC headlines. I saw where they had been refreshed 10 minutes ago. I must have checked them while driving. I was, no joke, reading on what the foreign public thought of America's leader reigning hellfire on bordering nations. I soon came to the realization that the cashier had asked me several times for my Kroger card. I felt like a turd. I slowly handed it to her. When leaving, it dawned on me that my mind, while standing in line at the local Kroger, was halfway across the world. I mind and body were miles and miles away from one another.
Of course, these brief stories about my horrendous dating game and abysmal diet are nowhere near as tragic as the drone program, but I feel as though they are related. The moral of all the scenarios mentioned above is the fact that we are disconnected from most of our actual, physical life. It's very scary to think about. And even those who become conscience of the situation still suffer from it.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Fisher and Ackerman sittin' in a tree...
*prolonged, dramatic sigh of misery*
Dave,
Are you trying to make me go insane?
I only jest.
On a serious note however, when reading Fisher's Once a Tramp, Always... I could not help but being reminded of Diane Ackerman and her off the wall sensory. It seems as if these two are nice compliments to one another, or as Angela put it, they are supplements.
When reading of the potato chips...oh my. My eye began to twitch due to thinking of how this would be the exact way Ackerman would explain eating a delicious potato chip. "They were ineffable" she proclaims. I must say, however, that when Fisher is explaining her experience with these chips in November of 1936, I began to salivate. I immediately tried to think of a certain food I ate in my past and be able to say "Damn. That was my 'Fisher Potato Chip.'" Sadly, I could only think of the taste of the raisin bran I just devoured 30 minutes ago.
Maybe this is why I show public disdain for Ackerman and Fisher. I can not think of any experience with frivolous things like food. It seems almost unfair that I can't.
This weekend, I will try my hardest to experience my food with a hyperbolic sense such as Fisher and Ackerman and then maybe my envy will no longer cause dislike towards them. Stay tuned.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Hey Manny, Right Me Up.
When I was asked to think of a song that made me ambivalent, I failed miserably.
Its been nearly 36 hours since I was presented with this challenge and I managed to rediscover a high school classic.
Right Me Up - State Radio
Side note. For those who don't know State Radio, (which I hope is few) they were a band formed by Chad Stokes after he disbanded from Dispatch. Sadly I stumbled across an article from College Humor titled "Guitar for Douchebags" and this article went to talk of how the reader would now only play songs by The Dave Matthews Band, Dispatch, the RENT soundtrack, and anything country in order to get ALL the ladies. I was sad to find out Dispatch/State Radio were labeled in the same category as the others mentioned. End side note.
This song is a story about a man named Manny. Manny suffers from what appears to be severe Down Syndrome. It goes on to talk of how Manny does not ask for comfort from the world. He doesn't seem to want people to pity him. Chad goes on to sing about how Manny is a happy man and is going to travel the world someday. Manny never misses a beat. The moral of the song is, whenever Chad is feeling down on himself, he looks to Manny to "right him up."
This song makes me feel ridiculously joyful. When I am ever feeling a little down on myself, I pull up this song to have Manny "right me up." When I first came to college, I listened to this song almost every second of everyday due to struggling every step of the way my freshman year. Whenever I fail an exam, I listen to Chad tell me the story of how Manny always got him back on track with a positive attitude. He reminds me not to get hung up on the frivolous things of life.
After Manny fixes my sorrows, I begin to think of his story on a much deeper level and become gloomy and angry with myself. I become gloomy because I realize that this man wakes up with more struggles on a day to day basis than I will ever have to face in my entire life. I hate to think that someone as happy as Manny has to go through these undeserving struggles. It seems unfair. I begin to think "Why him and not me?" I then become angry with myself due to me bitchin' and moanin' over something like a C+ on an Italian exam. Or a cracked iPhone screen. Or Netflix buffering for more than 30 seconds. Men like Manny always seem to make me a little more grateful for the things I am able to take for granted on a daily basis.
So once I become gloomy and angry, I have to restart the song to cheer myself up...its truly a vicious cycle.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jza3P3PBeQ4
Its been nearly 36 hours since I was presented with this challenge and I managed to rediscover a high school classic.
Right Me Up - State Radio
Side note. For those who don't know State Radio, (which I hope is few) they were a band formed by Chad Stokes after he disbanded from Dispatch. Sadly I stumbled across an article from College Humor titled "Guitar for Douchebags" and this article went to talk of how the reader would now only play songs by The Dave Matthews Band, Dispatch, the RENT soundtrack, and anything country in order to get ALL the ladies. I was sad to find out Dispatch/State Radio were labeled in the same category as the others mentioned. End side note.
This song is a story about a man named Manny. Manny suffers from what appears to be severe Down Syndrome. It goes on to talk of how Manny does not ask for comfort from the world. He doesn't seem to want people to pity him. Chad goes on to sing about how Manny is a happy man and is going to travel the world someday. Manny never misses a beat. The moral of the song is, whenever Chad is feeling down on himself, he looks to Manny to "right him up."
This song makes me feel ridiculously joyful. When I am ever feeling a little down on myself, I pull up this song to have Manny "right me up." When I first came to college, I listened to this song almost every second of everyday due to struggling every step of the way my freshman year. Whenever I fail an exam, I listen to Chad tell me the story of how Manny always got him back on track with a positive attitude. He reminds me not to get hung up on the frivolous things of life.
After Manny fixes my sorrows, I begin to think of his story on a much deeper level and become gloomy and angry with myself. I become gloomy because I realize that this man wakes up with more struggles on a day to day basis than I will ever have to face in my entire life. I hate to think that someone as happy as Manny has to go through these undeserving struggles. It seems unfair. I begin to think "Why him and not me?" I then become angry with myself due to me bitchin' and moanin' over something like a C+ on an Italian exam. Or a cracked iPhone screen. Or Netflix buffering for more than 30 seconds. Men like Manny always seem to make me a little more grateful for the things I am able to take for granted on a daily basis.
So once I become gloomy and angry, I have to restart the song to cheer myself up...its truly a vicious cycle.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jza3P3PBeQ4
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Short Takes: January
January by Verlyn Klinkenborg pg. 112-114
This essay revolves around a man who lives with horses and what he takes away from living such a casual life. He speaks of how baling twine is such a significant part of his life even though it seems to be such an insignificant piece of string. Throughout the essay, he shows how the twine becomes "second nature" while it helps him connect with his horses.
"It transmits the dexterity of your fingers, the guilelessness of you intentions. It becomes a subtle tool. It allows horse and human to moor each other."
To anyone who enjoys blue-collar work, I suggest reading this essay. It helps make you appreciate dirty, hard work even more.
This essay revolves around a man who lives with horses and what he takes away from living such a casual life. He speaks of how baling twine is such a significant part of his life even though it seems to be such an insignificant piece of string. Throughout the essay, he shows how the twine becomes "second nature" while it helps him connect with his horses.
"It transmits the dexterity of your fingers, the guilelessness of you intentions. It becomes a subtle tool. It allows horse and human to moor each other."
To anyone who enjoys blue-collar work, I suggest reading this essay. It helps make you appreciate dirty, hard work even more.
Well, If She Smokes...
When asked to describe the scent of someone in my life, I first thought of my latest college fling. She was quite the anti-type of lady I usually talk to. She was the girl who wore a black leather jacket and smoked a pack of Marlboros a day. Looking back, I feel like I was going through a quarter-life crisis.
On a regular basis, she would smell smokey. Not the kind of smokiness from a fire place, but the smokiness of an ash tray. It sounds disgusting but when it mixed with her cherry blossom scented lotion from Bath and Body Works, it became a balance of sweet and smokey. Its near impossible to describe exactly the specifications of each scent.
I can hardly explain her taste. I feel gross trying to think back on what she tasted like. Whenever I would steal a kiss, I would get a kick of bold tobacco from her freshly smoked lips. If I had to describe the taste of tobacco, I would say it is 'earthly.' If I had to describe the taste of earth, I would say...christ!
Sometimes I would get a mouthful of hair when laying beside her and that was the most complicated taste. I don't know how something with so much texture could be so bland. I can't even describe bland. Dammit Ackerman!
Whenever going for a social smoke after a couple drinks, I am always reminded of my leather wearing girl who mixed her cigarette smoke with cherry blossoms.
I thinks its hard to describe smells and tastes in general let alone the specifics smells and tastes of one person. Hopefully the lessons of Ackerman will one day open my senses to the superiority of her own.
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