I remember when I wrote my blog post for the Billy the Kid reading, when I was pondering over the two poems at the beginning and end. The first one was very literate and the last one, I thought at first was a trainwreck. But the more I read it, the more it grew on me. My writing process for the blog for this piece was a little chaotic as well. I remember working out that second poem on paper and at first I was planning on deleting the parts where I admitted that I was confused and didn’t like it. But at the last minute I kept it because I liked how the poem instilled some kind of emotion in me. I think that if a story doesn’t make the reader feel something, the writer did something wrong. I’ve officially added “confusion” to the list of acceptable emotions to have for a piece of writing, because it’s certainly better than indifference. And I think it’s interesting that I was intrigued enough to try and figure the poem out instead of just leave it.
I liked the Anzaldua readings even less than I liked the Billy poem, but not for a lack of good writing on Anzaldua’s part. I know the point of the piece was that she shouldn’t have to translate her native language for English speakers because she’s proud of her culture, but there really was a lot more Spanish than I had expected. The first sentence I came across, I was going to type it into an online translation dictionary, but then I didn’t because I realized that would defeat the purpose of the piece. Plus, there was a lot of Spanish, it would have taken way longer to read if I translated. By the time I finished reading it, I was so frustrated that I had been left in the dark for a lot of the reading that I went on twitter and ranted for 140 characters. Interestingly enough, part of that tweet is going into my Twitterive. So, thank you Anzaldua.
For my microfiction story Tell Me, I used a line from Anzaldua that goes “Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out.” Anzaldua was talking about people who speak a language other than English and how they are forced to learn English. I knew she meant that the Spanish people are proud of their heritage and won’t let go of it without a fight, but my twisted mind immediately thought of a literal meaning for this phrase. But I think, in a way, it comes down to the same thing, so really, I’m not all that crazy. She started it….
I’m surprised that I was even able to complete the found poem assignment because when I went back and looked at all my tweets, on first sight they looked like the inane ramblings of a crazy loner (which I am). There wasn’t anything cohesive, like I didn’t tweet about a place I had gone to or an outing with friends because I didn’t do any of that stuff. Mostly I stay in my room, with periodic trips outside for fresh air, exercise and food. And that’s where most of my tweets came from. Fleeting observations as I walked quickly to the cafeteria, which is right across the street.
But then I noticed a pattern, which was winter weather. What was initially nonsense became a poem about winter and people’s mood about winter. So I collected all the tweets about the weather and incorporated the whimsical style in which the tweets were written to form an admittedly strange poem that, to me at least, makes perfect sense. I’m using my found poem to write an equally unusual Twitterive.
Stay tuned.
I liked the Anzaldua readings even less than I liked the Billy poem, but not for a lack of good writing on Anzaldua’s part. I know the point of the piece was that she shouldn’t have to translate her native language for English speakers because she’s proud of her culture, but there really was a lot more Spanish than I had expected. The first sentence I came across, I was going to type it into an online translation dictionary, but then I didn’t because I realized that would defeat the purpose of the piece. Plus, there was a lot of Spanish, it would have taken way longer to read if I translated. By the time I finished reading it, I was so frustrated that I had been left in the dark for a lot of the reading that I went on twitter and ranted for 140 characters. Interestingly enough, part of that tweet is going into my Twitterive. So, thank you Anzaldua.
For my microfiction story Tell Me, I used a line from Anzaldua that goes “Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out.” Anzaldua was talking about people who speak a language other than English and how they are forced to learn English. I knew she meant that the Spanish people are proud of their heritage and won’t let go of it without a fight, but my twisted mind immediately thought of a literal meaning for this phrase. But I think, in a way, it comes down to the same thing, so really, I’m not all that crazy. She started it….
I’m surprised that I was even able to complete the found poem assignment because when I went back and looked at all my tweets, on first sight they looked like the inane ramblings of a crazy loner (which I am). There wasn’t anything cohesive, like I didn’t tweet about a place I had gone to or an outing with friends because I didn’t do any of that stuff. Mostly I stay in my room, with periodic trips outside for fresh air, exercise and food. And that’s where most of my tweets came from. Fleeting observations as I walked quickly to the cafeteria, which is right across the street.
But then I noticed a pattern, which was winter weather. What was initially nonsense became a poem about winter and people’s mood about winter. So I collected all the tweets about the weather and incorporated the whimsical style in which the tweets were written to form an admittedly strange poem that, to me at least, makes perfect sense. I’m using my found poem to write an equally unusual Twitterive.
Stay tuned.
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