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Poetry and typos and archaeology
Mar. 21st, 2004 11:29 amThe essay I was writing a couple of weeks back involved writing a poem in response to the two poems I chose to analyse for essay number 1. The poems I analysed were Wendy Cope's "Being Boring" and Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty", so my response poem is called "She Walks in Boredom". It was great fun to do, although I found it rather difficult. The two people teaching the course were open all along about the fact that, to a certain extent, we were guinea pigs, and that they were going to give a conference paper about the class, the techniques they used, and the way their students responded. They've asked each of us if we mind them using some of the work we produced as part of their paper, and most of us - me included - said that was fine. Now they've asked me to come along and read "She Walks in Boredom" as part of their presentation. I'm nervous and unsure about this, and have said yes mostly because it's the sort of opportunity that doesn't often present itself, and I think I'd regret the missed chance if I said no. And I'm interested to hear what they say about the course. But - I'm going to be reading a poem of my own composition to a conference of English teachers. I'm going to be reading a poem of my own composition to a conference of English teachers!
In other news, I'm reading 253, Geoff Ryman's hypertext novel, which I should have read long ago, but have never quite got round to. It's one of those this is what the web is for! things. I'm finding the experience of reading it more like a self-directed film than a novel - each link is a cut between shots, each new shot starts with a description of what it looks like, and in the process of describing what's going on, you're offered the opportunity of being distracted, looking away to something else happening nearby. Or, with some people, you look at them, and then simply move on to the next person in line. In the interest of trying to hook you into it, too, I'm amused by a typo in the description of Mr William Dynham, passenger number 32, who seems to be wearing an "Impeccable blue suit, grey goat, [and] burnished black shoes" ;-)
Finally, on to archaeology. We've done some furniture moving, and general reorganisation in the house over the last few days (that's the royal 'we', incidentally ;-), and the library, which is, among its other uses, my study, is full of piles and bags of miscellaneous stuff belonging to me. I've already noticed among them several things I thought lost to the mists of time, so the process of sorting through them and tidying them away is going to be like an archaeology of me. I'm looking forward to it. Whether I succeed in tidying, or just spend the afternoon reading old bits of paper, and playing with old things, is yet to be seen.
In other news, I'm reading 253, Geoff Ryman's hypertext novel, which I should have read long ago, but have never quite got round to. It's one of those this is what the web is for! things. I'm finding the experience of reading it more like a self-directed film than a novel - each link is a cut between shots, each new shot starts with a description of what it looks like, and in the process of describing what's going on, you're offered the opportunity of being distracted, looking away to something else happening nearby. Or, with some people, you look at them, and then simply move on to the next person in line. In the interest of trying to hook you into it, too, I'm amused by a typo in the description of Mr William Dynham, passenger number 32, who seems to be wearing an "Impeccable blue suit, grey goat, [and] burnished black shoes" ;-)
Finally, on to archaeology. We've done some furniture moving, and general reorganisation in the house over the last few days (that's the royal 'we', incidentally ;-), and the library, which is, among its other uses, my study, is full of piles and bags of miscellaneous stuff belonging to me. I've already noticed among them several things I thought lost to the mists of time, so the process of sorting through them and tidying them away is going to be like an archaeology of me. I'm looking forward to it. Whether I succeed in tidying, or just spend the afternoon reading old bits of paper, and playing with old things, is yet to be seen.
