At the beginning of our class I nurtured a fairly strong disdain for blogs in general. My own experiences with bloggers ranged from pushy to downright rude. I felt that they seemed to think themselves better than everyone else simply they had and published an opinion. Being an egalitarian and a firm believer in the fact that you are entitled to your own opinion and action as long as it does not harm anyone or impinge on their rights, I found blogging to be a form of proselytizing as all these bloggers that I had met rabidly asserted that their opinion was better than anyone else’s. So I was instantly reluctant to join this breed of self-promoting prophets. I maintained a small Myspace.com blog full of my creative writing posts and various thoughts about professors and school in general though only those people who knew about it and subscribed to it would go on and know that I had updated. I justified to myself that I wasn’t really a blogger because I didn’t foist the onus of reading it to anyone I passed and had barely met. However the first few critical posts got me kind of excited as I viewed them as a form of creative writing and as long as I didn’t talk about it to anyone else I could continue my view that I wasn’t “really a blogger.”
At the end of semester however I find that my opinions have changed. I enjoy writing in my blog. You, by far, have taught me more about reading critically than any teacher I have ever met. So maybe it was because I felt myself looking deeper into things that I normally wouldn’t have seen. The themes you outlined for us at the beginning of most of our classes helped immensely and gave me ideas to consider later in the semester such as the treatment of women in the literature, the meaning of stories, et cetera. Also in reading my classmates’ blogs I found that not all bloggers are as pushy as the ones I had met previously. I loved talking to them in person about their opinions though I didn’t often comment on them I talked with Jessica, Terrence, Rich, Ish, and Barry about our ideas fairly often. I also found a lot of blogs hilarious especially Rob and Kevin’s snarky wit. Though at the end I tried to tap my own brand of humor but I found it did not translate quite well onto the electronic page, but I enjoyed the jokes if only just for myself.
We discussed in House of Leaves that the new form of literature, some believe, will become a bunch of different authors adding to stories via electronic means. In this regard blogging gives us a chance to be a part of this new literary style. By posting our own views and allowing others to comment and give us more ideas we are forced, then, to add, revise, retract, rephrase, and rework our own thought and opinion. In this way we elevate literature from an insular experience, our own reading, understanding, and imagining of a story, into something much more fluid and alive. So our blogs become useful in understanding 21st century literature by making us a part of it. Additionally assignments like a blog make us a better writer, and allow others to comment showing us exactly where we must improve in order to be viable.
I found the improvement in my critical reading skills absurd and astonishing through the course of this blog. In looking back, my posts for The Mercy Seat were flat and pretty much only a superficial discussion about themes in the book. As we went on however I started to delve into the deeper meanings of the book and I found myself thinking deeper as to why someone would write something like this as well as author’s motives for choosing certain elements and actions for their characters in the story, graphic novel, play, diary of madmen that were the books we read. I also found the fact that I was truly enjoying posting blogs surprising as my initial hatred bordered on the all-encompassing.
If I could do this assignment again I would do more; I’d have more posts, more comments on other people’s blogs, more playing around with the texture and look of my blog. I found that lack of time severely restricted my dedication to this assignment and by the end of it I would have loved to have just put in more of myself to this. At the beginning it was chore, at the end was a joy; I feel that if I had spent more time in the middle the whole experience would have become fun much sooner.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
And In Conclusion
This one is just for me. Anybody else read this book on public transit? Because I found time oddly warping while reading this. I found I missed a good few stops on the Staten Island rail as well as a good half hour on the ferry. One minute we were leaving staten island the next we were in Manhatten. While reading it in other classes I thought I had been reading forever but it had only been ten minutes. It was as if the minutes were warped. They would expand and condense and I found myself getting lost in words.154
154 If any of you actually believe this you are all as crazy as Mr. Squeri and should seek counseling. -Ed.
154 If any of you actually believe this you are all as crazy as Mr. Squeri and should seek counseling. -Ed.
House
I picked this house because it is perfectly normal from the outside but holding something much deeper within. It is also secluded being the only house in view, as Navidson says on pg 8 "I bought a small house in the country." It also has a porch where Navidson would drink his lemonade. The only reason I really picked it was because it looks so normal here it really could conceal a horrible history. Like the Amityville horror or some other terrible murder.
Video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKCSGQVFhek
I like this video because it puts a picture to the state of Zampano's apartment when Johnny and Lude first find the journal. I also like the shots of the hallways and how it previews the tension between Navidson and Karen. I also like anything involving Milla Jovovich. However there is a lot of meaningless space in here proving that just as in some of the footnotes, most of it may be worthless but there may be something in there worth reading. And I do not appreciate the shameful ripping off of Resident Evil footage. For shame youtubers!
I like this video because it puts a picture to the state of Zampano's apartment when Johnny and Lude first find the journal. I also like the shots of the hallways and how it previews the tension between Navidson and Karen. I also like anything involving Milla Jovovich. However there is a lot of meaningless space in here proving that just as in some of the footnotes, most of it may be worthless but there may be something in there worth reading. And I do not appreciate the shameful ripping off of Resident Evil footage. For shame youtubers!
Character Sketch
My first passage comes from pg. 37. "He (Reston) is a gruff man, frequently caustic and more like a drill sergeant than a tenured professor." He is a paraplegic as well. Navidson and Reston met in India and he took a picture of Reston running from an electrical wire. Here then is our first glimpse of Reston and it is a fair one. He first sends the brothers Navidson to the house armed with a laser leveler. Which of course doesn't work. Then he shows up himself. Instead of allowing himself to be carried into the house, this proud man says "That won't be necessary." And makes it onto the second floor of the house by his arm strength alone. (pg. 55) In fact, we see a bit of a sense of humor about his impediment as well. When Tom says "Too bad you forgot your chair," Reston laughs and says "Well, and fuck you." We see a gruff and serious man, but with a sense of humor and a calm acceptance of his lot in life. This is not the last time we see a softer side of Reston. SPOILERS!!! If you haven't read to 321 DO NOT CONTINUE!!! After Navidson is lost during the shift at the spiral staircase Reston remains at the radios trying to get in touch with Nav even after 5 days. (Pg. 321) He even communicates his hope. When Tom says That Navy's been gone over four days Reston says "There's still a chance."
So we have a gruff character who takes no nonsense but still can have a sense of humor over the bad hand that life dealt him, as well as a sincere devotion to his friends and willing to grab at a shred of hope, even if it's as faint as the light of a flashbulb in the deep darkness of the House.
So we have a gruff character who takes no nonsense but still can have a sense of humor over the bad hand that life dealt him, as well as a sincere devotion to his friends and willing to grab at a shred of hope, even if it's as faint as the light of a flashbulb in the deep darkness of the House.
When a House is not a House
I think the house is a metaphor for our psyche. We have the side of ourselves we present to the outside world. It is respectable, it looks reconizable for what it is because we strive to be like everyone else with a few differences on the outside. We have windows to the interior but even then in front of the windows we arrange things with the skill of a master landscaper. However through the door, and in the rooms that you can't see, something much darker may lurk.
Our long hallways can be our flaws. They may condense sometimes and be nothing more than momentary shifts into darkness. Anger can be a small blowup inside our own head, or a murderous rage from which nothing (no one) is safe. We all have minor insecurities and deeper damage that we hide in darkness impenetrable so no one else may see it.
Finally we come to our markers. Some of us blessed with self-knowledge know where we are deficient. So we place markers so we can understand where the darkness makes a habit of getting the best of us. However at times our markers become mangled and our flaws swallow what used to mark them and we succumb to our darkness. Still other times greater flaws lurk in the darkness ones which we do not know about and therefore fail to mark. The ever present growl of worse things than darkness and cold.
Our long hallways can be our flaws. They may condense sometimes and be nothing more than momentary shifts into darkness. Anger can be a small blowup inside our own head, or a murderous rage from which nothing (no one) is safe. We all have minor insecurities and deeper damage that we hide in darkness impenetrable so no one else may see it.
Finally we come to our markers. Some of us blessed with self-knowledge know where we are deficient. So we place markers so we can understand where the darkness makes a habit of getting the best of us. However at times our markers become mangled and our flaws swallow what used to mark them and we succumb to our darkness. Still other times greater flaws lurk in the darkness ones which we do not know about and therefore fail to mark. The ever present growl of worse things than darkness and cold.
SKIP IT
While reading this book Jaime did not skip much. He did, however, skip the footnotes that just seemed to rattle off names and titles and lists of things that one would find in any normal house. He figured that these didn't have much to do with either story and therefore while cursorily looking at the words he allowed his mind to freely wander into whatever fantasy crossed his mind.
He enjoyed reading this book alot. He found himself taking it everywhere. He read it at work during lunch. He read it during other classes (sorry to Dr. Hurst, Prof. Valcin, and Dr. Boyenne)He even took it with him on a few porcelain cruises. He enjoyed the twisting and turning the words forced him into. He relished the chance to confront some of his own darkness in thinking about the unfathombably night of the book.
The one thing he did not enjoy, however, was the book's propensity to inflict Truant-like symptoms on those who read it. He found himself creeped by sounds in his basement that he's heard for years. The warming of pipes took on a definate growling tone, the darkness seemed less friendly and even on a layout he's known for years once he found himself lost until he stubbed his toe on a doorframe. In Truant's words "FUCK. FUCK. FUCK." He also noticed that while reading this book on public transportation time seemed to shift. Seconds elongated into minutes and minutes condensed to seconds and he missed stops on the train as the yawning darkness ate moments like morsels. As off-putting as that was he still enjoyed reading this book. He looks forward to the end eagerly peering into the darkness of the unknown.
He enjoyed reading this book alot. He found himself taking it everywhere. He read it at work during lunch. He read it during other classes (sorry to Dr. Hurst, Prof. Valcin, and Dr. Boyenne)He even took it with him on a few porcelain cruises. He enjoyed the twisting and turning the words forced him into. He relished the chance to confront some of his own darkness in thinking about the unfathombably night of the book.
The one thing he did not enjoy, however, was the book's propensity to inflict Truant-like symptoms on those who read it. He found himself creeped by sounds in his basement that he's heard for years. The warming of pipes took on a definate growling tone, the darkness seemed less friendly and even on a layout he's known for years once he found himself lost until he stubbed his toe on a doorframe. In Truant's words "FUCK. FUCK. FUCK." He also noticed that while reading this book on public transportation time seemed to shift. Seconds elongated into minutes and minutes condensed to seconds and he missed stops on the train as the yawning darkness ate moments like morsels. As off-putting as that was he still enjoyed reading this book. He looks forward to the end eagerly peering into the darkness of the unknown.
Finding my way out again
I am forced to conclude that everything in this book is specifically and purposefully designed to create hopelessness (read: empty of all hope.) It creates a path so convoluted that you are lost in a maze of words, ideas, and images so dark that you are swallowed by it. And when it shifts to show you a shred of light, it shifts again to steal that light (meaning) away from you again. In short, this is no light (oh the puns) bedtime reading.
So the theme of this blog: What's the last word for this half of House of Leaves? In all the references to darkness (emptiness) in both The Navidson Record and Johnny Truant's infinitely more lyrical (entertaining) footnote stories we find two men trying to balance the darkness without (the house, Navidson and Karen's dwindling relationship, Truant's one night stands and drug experiences) with the darkness within (Navidson's complete obsession with fame and danger i.e. the House within the house, and Truant's need for one night stands and drug use.) Both men skate around the real and instead confront puzzles with no answers. If there are answers they must come from the darkness within both men. I think the most moving part of this book is when Zampano writes about standing outside or inside the labyrinth. Do we understand the maze? Or are we feeling our way blindly through it? I think both men are completely unnerved by their shift in perspective. One minute they comprehend and the next they question.
So the theme of this blog: What's the last word for this half of House of Leaves? In all the references to darkness (emptiness) in both The Navidson Record and Johnny Truant's infinitely more lyrical (entertaining) footnote stories we find two men trying to balance the darkness without (the house, Navidson and Karen's dwindling relationship, Truant's one night stands and drug experiences) with the darkness within (Navidson's complete obsession with fame and danger i.e. the House within the house, and Truant's need for one night stands and drug use.) Both men skate around the real and instead confront puzzles with no answers. If there are answers they must come from the darkness within both men. I think the most moving part of this book is when Zampano writes about standing outside or inside the labyrinth. Do we understand the maze? Or are we feeling our way blindly through it? I think both men are completely unnerved by their shift in perspective. One minute they comprehend and the next they question.
Lost in the Labyrinth
Let's get the obvious out of the way first; this book is a labyrinth. It has us twisting and turning and in the opening tells us that what we see is not, cannot be real. Formed in words of black ink, our own minute, unfathomable darknesses. We find metaphors of darkness (read: emptiness) everywhere. What it comes down to is, I can't read this book for more than an hour and a half without my head pounding at me to stop.
and for
The weird part is now I'm imagining noises in my basement when the lights are off. So, the nature of the labyrinth is complex; is the labyrinth internal (our own psyche) or external (vis a vis the book, the house, the made up movie and sources etc.)? What's more, even if it is internal are we standing outside it (because we know why we act the way we do) and therefore understand our maze? Or inside it (because even we,at the best of times, don't understand all of why we do what we do) hence we don't know where we're going? (Read: headache)
and for
The weird part is now I'm imagining noises in my basement when the lights are off. So, the nature of the labyrinth is complex; is the labyrinth internal (our own psyche) or external (vis a vis the book, the house, the made up movie and sources etc.)? What's more, even if it is internal are we standing outside it (because we know why we act the way we do) and therefore understand our maze? Or inside it (because even we,at the best of times, don't understand all of why we do what we do) hence we don't know where we're going? (Read: headache)
Bomb(ed)ing
I will never look at graffiti the same way again. After learning about the history of Cornbread I find myself wondering about who C-loc, Lady86, Sam, and Terra are. I have this lovely alley way behind the local Stop and Shop and it's a veritable mural of names and I want to find out about these people. I wonder about their stories. Why are they doing this? If they're doing it for someone, who are they doing it for? Is their purpose noble or is it nothing but the most basic arrogance? Does putting your name on something make it yours? If it does, I'm going to get me a Ferrari REAL quick.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Overall Impressions
When trying to describe this play to some of my friends not in our esteemed lit class they asked me to describe the plot in five words or less. Though difficult, I managed to get it done: Murdering little children. What happened? After the look of shock on their faces (which was both amusing and gratifying) I told them that they all have to run out to buy and read this play.
And I meant it. This is a fantastically interesting and quirky play, a Little Green Pig in and of itself. I enjoyed it thoroughly. It's easy to see that certain forms of censorship taken by our government are played out to dangerous extremes in this play as well as a serious look at the responsibility of authors in producing their work.
The responsibility issue comes up often in the 21st century with regard to video games. Every time a new GTA is released, senators and governmental figures clambor to have Rockstar Games offices closed. Although I see the arguement that enacting violent behavior may lead one to enact it in real life (a la Mikhail) I don't see much substantiation for it. However, I do see the author/programmer/artist/filmmaker etc. sharing some of the blame. I think they must also share that blame with the environment of the person acting it out. For the majority of responsibility for a what a person does, or believes, or acts upon, is the society and background of what they grew up with. The creative things we see may give us ideas, but it is up to us whether we act on it or not.
And I meant it. This is a fantastically interesting and quirky play, a Little Green Pig in and of itself. I enjoyed it thoroughly. It's easy to see that certain forms of censorship taken by our government are played out to dangerous extremes in this play as well as a serious look at the responsibility of authors in producing their work.
The responsibility issue comes up often in the 21st century with regard to video games. Every time a new GTA is released, senators and governmental figures clambor to have Rockstar Games offices closed. Although I see the arguement that enacting violent behavior may lead one to enact it in real life (a la Mikhail) I don't see much substantiation for it. However, I do see the author/programmer/artist/filmmaker etc. sharing some of the blame. I think they must also share that blame with the environment of the person acting it out. For the majority of responsibility for a what a person does, or believes, or acts upon, is the society and background of what they grew up with. The creative things we see may give us ideas, but it is up to us whether we act on it or not.
Little Green Pig
My favorite story in The Pillowman is The Little Green Pig. Parallels between this story and book burnings in Alaska came to mind. I like this story because it reminds us that those who are truly different will always be different; this, in turn, reminds me that we don't change unless we truly wish too. We can be painted over, we can be covered, we can even be silenced for a time, but eventually we will come forth. As quirky, and different as ever. This story is fantastic allegory and I love that in a story full of death, this little bit of novelty comes through.
P.S. Read that Time article in my Alaska link. Especially the bits about dear old mom...Hehehe when family doesn't support you it's a sad day indeed.
P.S. Read that Time article in my Alaska link. Especially the bits about dear old mom...Hehehe when family doesn't support you it's a sad day indeed.
Monday, November 3, 2008
A Story To Remember the Dead
A Eulogy is defined as a speech or writing in praise of a person or thing, especially a set oration in honor of a deceased person. The very best eulogies often contain stories about the dead. In this way we tell their stories to keep them alive inside of us through our memories of them. In The Pillowman I have difficulty coming to terms with Katurians final story. In thinking about Eulogies, I find perhaps a meaning in his final story. Could his last tale be his attempt to eulogize himself? Could his last story be his last attempt to be remembered before his stories are locked away?
Is this McDonagh attempt to tell us that we are all authors? Authors of our lives and our own stories. Every time we relate something of ourselves to someone else we are giving a narrative. And in changing the way that Katurian views his death is he reminding us that we can change our own story? This play brought a lot of questions and some of them I just can't answer.
P.S. Tomorrow PAH-LEEZE get out and vote.
Is this McDonagh attempt to tell us that we are all authors? Authors of our lives and our own stories. Every time we relate something of ourselves to someone else we are giving a narrative. And in changing the way that Katurian views his death is he reminding us that we can change our own story? This play brought a lot of questions and some of them I just can't answer.
P.S. Tomorrow PAH-LEEZE get out and vote.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
All War-n out
I have read Black Watch, Jarhead, and Shooting War, and I must say I am warn out. I don't want to see, hear, think, or even associate myself with another conflict unless one of my friends in the military actually wants to talk about it. I have turned my TV off, I have blocked myself from accessing news websites, I can't get internet on my phone, I am done with war.
It's not that I don't appreciate who is fighting the war, as I said I have friends in Afghanistan and Iraq and I hope that they are safe and protected every day; but I cannot watch or listen to anyone talk about spilling blood. In Black Watch we find again our Jarheads who fight "their war" and are looking for men to kill. This does not equate to my version of manhood. The ideal soldier is not the one who kills the most, but the one that regrets the most that he kills. However I think Swoffard would agree that the soldiers of Black Watch were part of his "Fucked situation." Stranded in the desert after an IED attack waiting for rescue certainly qualifies.
It's not that I don't appreciate who is fighting the war, as I said I have friends in Afghanistan and Iraq and I hope that they are safe and protected every day; but I cannot watch or listen to anyone talk about spilling blood. In Black Watch we find again our Jarheads who fight "their war" and are looking for men to kill. This does not equate to my version of manhood. The ideal soldier is not the one who kills the most, but the one that regrets the most that he kills. However I think Swoffard would agree that the soldiers of Black Watch were part of his "Fucked situation." Stranded in the desert after an IED attack waiting for rescue certainly qualifies.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Medium of Media
The satire of the Media in Shooting War is very interesting to me. I get hot and bothered whenever a Republican utters the words "Liberal Media" because for so much of this presidency the Media has been an unfunded branch of the state department. I acknowledge that this is how war time Media has traditionally been; Keep the morale up, support the troops, and show how we're winning. I, maybe somewhat naively, believe that media should be unbiased and show the truth and not what the government wants us to see. The Global News Network in Shooting War reminds me of a Fox-like news network all the time. It switches tack fast and is terrifying all day every day. Jessica's mock conversation of a Mid-West family on her blog is so frightening because I could easily imagine it happening.
Where are the voices asking honest questions? Where are the real answers instead of the language crutches and skirting the fence dodging that we've come to expect? Where is our accountability? Ultimately, it comes down to whether we can handle the questions, and even worse the answers. Because we are a frightened people. Because whereas before we could just turn off the TV and gather our thoughts and respond to our fear with determination, now we must turn off the TV, the computer, the radio, the cell phone, and all of our lights, and sit in our homes in silence just to gather enough peace and quiet to face the challenges of a brand new day with enough courage to even open our eyes. The problem of course being that most American's can't turn off their electronics and therefore can't open their eyes.
Where are the voices asking honest questions? Where are the real answers instead of the language crutches and skirting the fence dodging that we've come to expect? Where is our accountability? Ultimately, it comes down to whether we can handle the questions, and even worse the answers. Because we are a frightened people. Because whereas before we could just turn off the TV and gather our thoughts and respond to our fear with determination, now we must turn off the TV, the computer, the radio, the cell phone, and all of our lights, and sit in our homes in silence just to gather enough peace and quiet to face the challenges of a brand new day with enough courage to even open our eyes. The problem of course being that most American's can't turn off their electronics and therefore can't open their eyes.
The Scariest Thing
The art in Shooting War is both beautiful and provacative. The subtle underlay of real photos in with the graphic style is both intense and wonderful. Some of the images are just pretty, others are pretty disturbing. One of the greatest, and scariest is the large hanger looking structure filled with soldiers controlling war machines with PS3's.
We've all heard comedians talk about our "Nintendo Pilot's," George Carlin has a famous bit about the nations hobby of bombing brown people. He says we bomb because it's more fun for our "Nintendo Pilots." We have that concept carried through to a horrible extreme. It is true that every day military scientists are working to unman the frontlines, the sheer brutality of what the soldiers do to a hospital full of sick and injured Iraqi's draws us out of our egocentrism and forces us to consider that not only are U.S. soldiers being hurt in this war, but Iraqi civilians are too. Even though we are not using robotic tanks there is still going to be a lot of collateral damage. Pulling back from the soldier's perspective and forcing us to consider the hospital brings compassion to the fore.
The truth of this book may be that even though we are at war, we should always strive for compassion and most of all understanding.
We've all heard comedians talk about our "Nintendo Pilot's," George Carlin has a famous bit about the nations hobby of bombing brown people. He says we bomb because it's more fun for our "Nintendo Pilots." We have that concept carried through to a horrible extreme. It is true that every day military scientists are working to unman the frontlines, the sheer brutality of what the soldiers do to a hospital full of sick and injured Iraqi's draws us out of our egocentrism and forces us to consider that not only are U.S. soldiers being hurt in this war, but Iraqi civilians are too. Even though we are not using robotic tanks there is still going to be a lot of collateral damage. Pulling back from the soldier's perspective and forcing us to consider the hospital brings compassion to the fore.
The truth of this book may be that even though we are at war, we should always strive for compassion and most of all understanding.
The Frequency Is Courage
I read Shooting War as we were finishing The Mercy Seat because it looked so intriguing I just couldn't wait. I was not disappointed. This book is such a flaming criticism I nearly choked with joy while I read it. One of my favorite parts is the exchange between Dan Rather and Jimmy Burns. "The Frequency is Courage."
This day and age is a time when our country has lost its courage. But we didn't really lose it; it was stolen from us. On monday when the stock market did its impression of Tony Danza's career, on the way home on the ferry you could almost feel the panic hushed over the city like a crouched predator. Now the politicians are reaping what they have sowed. What do you get when you have an entire population overkeyed to the sensation of fear? A population that starts at the slightest word and all you have to do to get the frightened sheep to agree is say the word terrorism or attack. Hell's bells! On September 11th every soul in New York looked up when the heard a plane and the same look of panic crossed our faces. Even politicians aren't safe. When calling for support of a national defense bill, no matter how draconian or wrong it may be, simply mention that it's unpatriotic or not approving it will provoke an attack and you'll have the whole of Washington D.C. goosestepping behind you.
Where is the brave nation that rode forth to stop the Nazi's? Where is the nation that fostered leaders who weren't afraid of dissent? Did it ever exist?
"The Frequency Is Courage." Unfortunately we're on the wrong channel.
This day and age is a time when our country has lost its courage. But we didn't really lose it; it was stolen from us. On monday when the stock market did its impression of Tony Danza's career, on the way home on the ferry you could almost feel the panic hushed over the city like a crouched predator. Now the politicians are reaping what they have sowed. What do you get when you have an entire population overkeyed to the sensation of fear? A population that starts at the slightest word and all you have to do to get the frightened sheep to agree is say the word terrorism or attack. Hell's bells! On September 11th every soul in New York looked up when the heard a plane and the same look of panic crossed our faces. Even politicians aren't safe. When calling for support of a national defense bill, no matter how draconian or wrong it may be, simply mention that it's unpatriotic or not approving it will provoke an attack and you'll have the whole of Washington D.C. goosestepping behind you.
Where is the brave nation that rode forth to stop the Nazi's? Where is the nation that fostered leaders who weren't afraid of dissent? Did it ever exist?
"The Frequency Is Courage." Unfortunately we're on the wrong channel.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
We Will Never Forget
What happens to the world when personal responsibility no longer exists? In The Mercy Seat Ben and Abby sit and reflect on their personal needs while the world is crumbling around them. Abby even mentions that she followed a woman around while she posted fliers looking for her missing son. What happens when the most basic humanity is replaced by complete selfishness. Could their efforts have been better spent not chasing each other cat-and-mouse-like through arguement after arguement? In this day and age when so many need help and aren't getting it, isn't there a better way to spend our time than in arguing over semantics and personal needs?
And I know that some people will say "I donate to charity all the time." Donating is not enough, the world is not as the John Mayer song says. We shouldn't be "waiting for the world to change." We should be making it happen.
And I know that some people will say "I donate to charity all the time." Donating is not enough, the world is not as the John Mayer song says. We shouldn't be "waiting for the world to change." We should be making it happen.
What is it?
What is it to be human? What is it like to live, love, learn, and die? Subjectivists argue that the answer to these questions are dependent upon the individual. Objectivists might argue that each have their own ultimate truth that would lead us to the penultimate truth. However most would agree that each must be experienced for one to understand. Literature argues, must they? Must everyone discover these things for themselves or can someone read someone else's experience and understand these very human and very important concepts.
I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle. I think that these things must be experienced, indeed all of them are side effects of existence, but I believe literature is the context through which we understand them. Or at least additional context. What is it like to live, love, learn, and then die? What is it like to be human?
I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle. I think that these things must be experienced, indeed all of them are side effects of existence, but I believe literature is the context through which we understand them. Or at least additional context. What is it like to live, love, learn, and then die? What is it like to be human?
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Mercy Seat
If all literature reveals some truth to its audience, the truth of The Mercy Seat isn't the grand, sweeping illumination of the world. It is instead the truth about the choices we make in our interactions with other people and how we live with those choices. Set inside his mistress Abby's apartment after 9/11, Ben Harcourt views the tragedy as an opportunity.
Ben's choices are not to be envied. Do right by your family or do right by someone you've been taking advantage of for so long you've convinced yourself that you haven't. This play is very much about doing the right thing, and what's more, choosing to do the right thing even if it's the hardest thing you've ever had to do.
After just about devouring this play on the ferry back to Staten Island, I found myself looking at some of the choices I've made. I used to run from my problems alot. I ran as far as Florida for two years to escape from myself. One question kept popping into my head, would you do it again?
Ben's choices are not to be envied. Do right by your family or do right by someone you've been taking advantage of for so long you've convinced yourself that you haven't. This play is very much about doing the right thing, and what's more, choosing to do the right thing even if it's the hardest thing you've ever had to do.
After just about devouring this play on the ferry back to Staten Island, I found myself looking at some of the choices I've made. I used to run from my problems alot. I ran as far as Florida for two years to escape from myself. One question kept popping into my head, would you do it again?
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