tavie.com

I wish I had some Jell-o. Sugar-free Jell-o is fine. I crave texture, not carbohydrates. (She told herself. She told herself. She told herself.) Cold and wiggly Jell-o. I will make some now, and by the time it's set I won't want it any longer.

I rocked the hizouse in poetry class tonight. I talked back, asked insightful questions, make appropriate comments that weren't witty at all but came off as so due to my masterful use of intonational "I am witty, laugh at me" patterns.

I still have no clear thesis for the paper I have to write by Monday. I will not let that stop me. I will write a bullshit paper and it will suffice. I will read and reread criticism after criticism of "To Elsie". I will pooh-pooh analyses that argue for a feminist reading, a racialized reading, a classist reading, and I will argue for no reading. Yeah, there we go. I will say that overdeconstruction of this poem detracts from its power to work as a whole. Yes, I will say that too close a reading of "To Elsie", overanalysis of its structure, overanalysis of its symbols, overanalysis of its historical bases, take away from Williams' intention to create poetry as a completely new reality, separate from nature. I will go on for five pages about how one mustn't deconstruct this poem. I will get an F.

Thesis, thesis, thesis... baaaaah, I'm making Jell-o.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:06 PM | shower me with attention