Monday, December 20, 2004

falling into theory

I had a very odd dream last night. I was discussing, or deconstructing, that "Ants Go Marching" song with my History of Literary Criticism professor. Seriously. It was very in depth and abstract. I was going on about the subversive pacifist subtext of the work, how the parody of Civil War-era patriotic propaganda was a subtle critique of militaristic conformity. I remember using the word "facistic." (Is "facistic" even a word?)

This is very worrisome. I think this semsester has fried my brain.

I'm going to curl up with chapter 8 of Jonathan Strange (Norrell is just about to raise poor Miss Wintertowne from the dead!), and leave you with Frank O'Hara's "POEM," which is about as frazzled as I am, but in a funny way.

Lana Turner has collapsed!
I was trotting along and suddenly
it started raining and snowing
and you said it was hailing
but hailing hits you on the head
hard so it was really snowing and
raining and I was in such a hurry
to meet you but the traffic
was acting exactly like the sky
and suddenly I see a headline
there is no snow in Hollywood
there is no rain in California
I have been to lots of parties
and acted perfectly disgraceful
but I never actually collapsed
oh Lana Turner we love you get up


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