"If you don't like your life, you can change it"

I open with a title that is far more. On the london tube (their equivalent of the subway or t), there is a mass town overhaul to created artwork on the underground. plastered to a few of the walls is a huge poster, with spectacular artwork, that boasts this sentence: "if you don't like your life, you can change it".

Though this doesn't completely accurately represent my viewpoint (as i love my life!), it does summarize my feelings on this, my first, week abroad. I cannot eloquently and decisively put into words how i feel at the moment - i will need some time to match my spontaneity with linguistic integrity - but it has been absolutely amazing. to summarize it now would trivialize it. so i won't.

but i look forward to seeing all of you tomorrow. i miss home so much, which surprises even me, since i will be returning to swarms of reporters and drunk italians (VIVA!!!!). but i can't wait to see everybody and sleep in my room in my house with all my friends and family closer than these 3000 miles away.

and yes, i got you all cool stuff.

i will see you soon. be good. and dad, stay out of the PUBS.

-kathi

ps mom, please file that prescription for me. k thanks.

From Angel to Victoria Station

Hi once again from london (by the time i leave this city i swear i'll find an interesting and non generic way of addressing these things!). Anyway, the trip has continued to just keep amazing me by getting better and better. Yesterday was a day filled with rides on the underground to london tower, where i spent the day walking in the steps of hundreds of famous members of history. absolutely beautiful and, don't worry, i took tons of pictures. The afternoon led us to the burough of westminster, where we saw all of london from the London Eye, the largest ferris wheel in the world, with glass capsules. It overlooks the thames and big ben and all of parliament and, well, everything else!

Today meant losing our ways. after an unfortunate split up, i ended up with the other girls at the national gallery. i saw the canvases graced by the brushstrokes of degas, cezanne, monet, manet, van gogh, lautrec, sisley, da vinci, botticelli, raphael, rembrandt and vermeer. to say the least, i was completely hushed by how breathtaking at the collected talent in such a small space. a work of degas was so beautiful it almost brought tears to my eyes! (all together now, awwwwww).

tonight brings me to the west end to see spamalot. honestly, being short on time, i wish there was more to write right now. the energy that i feel cannot be put into words, but is easily equivalent to the power of a sonic boom! i will fill you in on everything when i get home (as i gather you all presents!!!).

i miss you all and wish you were here. all my love always

kathi

ps. all the pregnancies are being covered over here. Gloucester High was the top story on the bbc the other day - 5 and 6 o clock news. we were also on the front page of london's major newspaper, and a segmant on a popular talk show. we've gone international, unfortunately.

Ello Loves! (the cheesiest/most generic "i'm visiting london" title ever)

Hello there from london. It is about 10 am here on pentonville street in london, england. that's about 5 in the morning for you guys across the pond. I'm not exactly sure what to say in this, but i guess i will make this as short and sweet and predictable as possible.

The trip over was excruciatingly long, considering that i arrived at heathrowe at midnight on home time...but it was about 5 in the morning here. we spent the next three hours taking the train and tube to our hotel. so yes, at our equivalent of 3 in the morning, i was dragging about 50 pounds of luggage through the london underground during their morning rush. then we proceeded to stay up all day. not the greatest choice, but still worth it.

The next day was filled with tourist-y musts; we took an extensive tour of the city, checking out westminster abbey, windsor castle (my new home, i've decided, if dad wants to splurge), and of course, the shopping district around Harrod's. Then we waited for a bus for an hour, one which never showed up (London transportation doesn't seem to agree with us). After arriving home at 11, we decided we were very much in need of some london night life. Our london experience thus took us to the Camden Head around midnight Saturday (London was very much still lively). For my parent's sake, we were very responsible and made good choices. For my friend's info, it was great and i'll tell you about it when i get home!

I'm here. I'm safe. I'm still in one piece. And i love and miss you all. I'll try to stay in touch on this borrowed computer, and hope you are all having half as much fun as me. See you on thursday!

-kathi

Tracking the Explosion: The Russian Futurist Movement

The first thing I did (before absolutely anything else) when I started this unit of poetry, was the research the movement the poetry was born from. What I found was a movement that had snowballed from past movements, and continued into others, both vertically and horizontally. Originally traced back to 1912, in the form of the Hyalaean movement, Russian Futurism got its true start when its “founding fathers” – Velemir Khlebnikov and Vladimir Mayakovsky – gathered works from themselves and others to create the manifesto, “A Slap in the Face of Public Taste”. Along with Hyalaea, other influences to the movement were the Ego Futurists, the Italian Futurists, and Tsentrifuga. Along with this, there is an inherent (and often, unrecognized) similarity to some of the works of its leader (Mayakovsky) and Walt Whitman. Mayakovsky’s works mimic the free-verse and hailing of the natural world, yet is far darker and more cynical of the natural realities.

Arguably more important than its influences, though, is the writing itself and the art it also entailed. Both art forms explored a world frustrated with ideals created by Big Brother, relaying these woes next to universal plights such as jilted lovers and deaths of close ones. Problems both big and small were placed next to each other, in a colorful manner focused as much on the issues as it was on the “sound” and “movement” each piece created. By creating nonsense in order to maintain a specific beat, the Russian Futurists not only questioned what was beautiful, but also what is logical.

Obviously, the effects of such a movement in both literature and art carried over into all of society and culture. The Russian Futurists followed right beside the first World War, providing a social commentary like none other. Their works were individual and significant to the self, yet tied to the major complaints of any citizen. Their works reminded me a lot of jazz; it made perfect sense and sound, built out of complex syncopation and “noise”. Perhaps it influenced this movement in music. It most definitely was the forerunner to the Dadaist movement, which was sparked by the end of World War I. Furthermore, the free verse of both Mayakovsky and Khlebnikov seems to be the predecessor to the Beat Movement, which later lent itself to the modern face of rock and roll.

Russian Futurism embraced changed by building off past experience. At its core, it seemed to be trying to relate the self to the larger world, questioning the faces of creation, beauty, and authority. Its rebellious tendency gave life to some of the most passionate, rich, and dynamic work to come out of the 20th century.

The Starry Night

"Past One O'clock..."
Past one o’clock. You’re probably in bed.
The Milky Way streams like the silver Oka.
I won’t send wild telegrams. I don’t intend
to trouble you and vex you any longer.
And now, as people say, our case is closed.
The boat of love could not endure the grind.
We’re even now. And there is no remorse,
let’s not bring up the sorrows left behind.
Behold what hush has fallen on the ground!
The starry night is grandiose and spacious.
At times as these, you rise and speak aloud
to ages, histories and all creation.
- Vladimir Mayakovsky, 1930

Like most of the Russian Futurist poetry, Vladimir Mayakovsky’s “Past One O’clock” examines a relatable topic (in this case, a past relationship) in a unique and heartbreaking manner. As Ezra Pound said, “make it new” – and, though not of the same movement as Pound, Mayakovsky is able to do just this with his colorful use of diction, syntax and form. Also, by making an individual’s sentiments larger by juxtaposing it with foreign concerns (bigger than one’s body), the poem is able to create a universal message that isn’t a single person’s self-absorbed emotion.

The speaker of this poem appears to be a past lover issuing his feelings to his former other half. He is hurt and pained, but manages to keep his composure through both the content of the poem to the rich language he employs. His words seem almost rehearsed, as though he has been meaning to say them for quite some time. He has moved past the fact that the relationship is over, but still seems injured by it. The reader is never told the amount of aesthetic distance between the poet, Mayakovsky, and the speaker himself, but such an intimate piece seems as though it must be rooted in fact, not fiction.

The purpose of this poem appears to the reader if he or she reads between the lines. Yes, he is saying goodbye to a past lover, and declaring the score between them settled and even, but more importantly, his seemingly rehearsed words give a feeling that the speaker has an ulterior motive. His beautiful words may have been to spite the former lover, flaunting the speaker’s obvious intellect and ability to create beauty. In a sort of this-is-what-you’re-missing-out-on way, the speaker is assuring his former lover that he is keeping his head up, there are no hard feelings, and that he has not been defeated by the termination of their relationship.

In terms of theme and motifs, I have noticed similar threads throughout numerous Mayakovsky poems. Singularly, this poem offers the themes of reminiscence, remorse, forgiveness, and acceptance. He comments on the silver beauty of the night sky, and compares the route of a relationship to the following of a boat on its journey. This pulls in the motifs that appear in many of his poems; nature relating to emotion. Oftentimes in his work, Mayakovsky ties the outside world to his own (or speaker’s own) human experience. By doing so, his woes and wonders become larger than just himself – they become the world around him. By doing this, he celebrates his tie to the larger scheme of things – a technique and philosophy that he shares with poet Walt Whitman.

As far as conventions go, it is obvious what Mayakovsky utilizes. With his use of enjambment, his verses seem free and conversational (with, learned language, of course), not held down by stricter means of poetic technique. He is also a fan of using metaphors (“the boat of love”…) and exclamation (line 9). Also, the last three lines of the poem seem to introduce a slightly different idea. Most of the poem focuses on the speaker himself saying goodbye. But these last few lines reveal how he feels about the former lover, as he seems to begin to lose his train of thought in reminiscence, caught up in the memory of his past flame.

Mayakovsky’s poem, “Past One O’clock” is extremely successful because it takes a subject that could easily become overplayed and trite (accepting the end of a love) and makes it fresh, unique, and quietly powerful. Through selective word choice, interesting metaphors and perpetual motifs, “Past One O’clock” is anything but an ordinary goodbye.

"When People Die, They Sing Songs" - An Initial Look at Russian Futurism

Partial List of Poems Read (not in the order read, though):
- Excerpt from “A Cloud in Trousers” – Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Past One O’Clock – Vladimir Mayakovsky
- About Petersburg – V. Mayakovsky
- Listen! – V. Mayakovsky
- To His Own Beloved Self – V. Mayakovsky
- Once Again, Once Again – Velemir Khlebnikov
- Dostoeskimo snowstorms! - V. Khlebnikov
- Invocation of Laughter – V. Khlebnikov
- When Horses Die, They Breathe – V. Khlebnikov
- Today I Will Go, Once Again – V. Khlebnikov

When I first encountered Russian Futurism, I was initially unsurprised by the angry, somewhat frustrated tone I encountered in many of the works. Upon first glance, these works from poets such as Mayakovsky and Khlebnikov fell right under the clichés of what I imagined Russian poetry to consist of. It seemed forceful, exclamatory, angry, and marchlike – all generalizations often associated (in, I’ll admit, ignorance) with elitist Russia. What I found as I continued to read more works was a collection of poems dedicated to reestablishing what is considered important and logical, with Walt Whitman-esque musings and questions asked that only sparked more questions from the reader. More interesting, I found intimate reflections of personal experiences and, though told in what seems to me a foreign expression, transcended their uncouth subjects with world-wide sentiments.

I first felt this change in subject matter within Mayakovsky’s “Past One O’Clock”, which reads similar to a note or statement to a love lost. The verse is free but still manages to be lyrical, and manages to steer away from the trite. Through his writing, we see the speaker as settled with his current situation, though still hurt and saddened. With both the diction and syntax he chooses, his poems read quite easily, as if they are literally trickling from his pen (if such eloquence was not deliberate and studied though, I am even more impressed).
My surface searches to find poets of this movement (also, referred to as Hylaeans) led me to more politically fueled works, exclaiming the wrongs of the government and explaining that this has led to “broken men”. As I found other poems though – some more obscure than others – I found these Walt Whitman style poems – darker and more cynical that Whitman, but adopting his lengthy passages, philosophical questions, and wonder of the world surrounding us. In, “To His Own Beloved Self” Mayakovsky employs contractions to parallel his feelings of life’s ironies, calling the Pacific Ocean “shallow” and millionaires “poor”. In the second situation, he continues by asking, “what’s cash for the soul?” I absolutely loved this line, and it continues to stick out in my consciousness, a question I’ve asked myself many times, but never in such a beautiful manner. Mayakovsky is able to capture sentiments of people in different times and of different status all at once, a characteristic of the Russian Futurist movement that I enjoy… above the dissecting of the logical and illogical.

Velemir Khlebnikov – a friend of Mayakovsky and another founding member of this movement – seems slightly harsher in his poetry about love. While Mayakovsky’s “Past One O’Clock” seems accepting of the ending of a relationship, Khlebnikov’s “Once Again, Once Again” seems bitter and spiteful to the speaker’s past love interest, wishing for her to meet a disastrous fate so he can laugh at her, as she has laughed at him. His hurt seems more focused on revenge than acceptance, and even still, his use of stars and the sea – two subjects often romanticized by poets, but used as brutal weapons by Khlebnikov – still manage to come off beautiful. While the content is abrasive, his syntax proves for continuous beautiful prose.

However, to veer away from this trend, Khlebnikov also began experimenting with poetry more related to sounds and movements as opposed to contents. Because of this, his diction becomes more harsh, and poetry nonsensical. This creates a more guttural form of poetry, closer to the aesthetics of the Dadaist moment:

Dostoeskimo snowstorms!

Pushkincandescence of noon!

Night resembles Tiutchev,

Filling the unfathomable full of the unknown.

Though I initially was confused by this poem, I found myself pleading for its simplicity when I stumbled upon his “Invocation of Laughter”, which is based almost entirely off of nonsense-derisions of the word “laugh”. I am still confused with it…which I think is at least one of Khlebnikov’s desired effects upon the reader.

Despite – or perhaps because of – this, I truly enjoyed reading this poetry. It was a great departure from the standard prose we learn about in normal curriculum at the high school. More than any other poems I’ve read (with the exception of Allen Ginsberg), the works of the Russian Futurists seemed most in tune with both the art movements of the time as well as the period’s politics. It is an interesting, harsh, and ingenious take on day-to-day life, relatable to many, reproduced by few.

For Seymour's Fat Lady

Studying the dynamics of a family unit (and as it fits into an individual’s identity) is far from an original subject for writers. J.D. Salinger, however, is able to encounter such a topic with a refreshing take. In his two short stories, “Franny” and “Zooey”, Salinger revisits the themes of identity, wisdom, and family. He creates a credible situation with his ability to write both conversationally, as well as a style similar to that of a playwright.

Although his best known work is probably Catcher in the Rye, Salinger’s Franny and Zooey focus on characters I believe are far more developed and realistic than “Catcher”s Holden Caulfied (not to say that Caulfield isn’t believable, but Salinger’s characterization in this work has far more depth and color). The stories have two main characters (Franny and Zooey) and also well developed secondary characters (Lane and Bessie). The writing technique follows the author’s usual style; sometimes-imperfect, varied sentences that are intelligent, conscious, but also very conversational. Salinger’s style is a mesh of third person omniscient and close confidante. This, with his excessive mention of detail – both on the physical level of moving and the emotional level of thinking – makes for a story that, at some times, reads somewhat like a well-developed play.

The first story, “Franny”, serves almost as a prologue for the notably longer and more developed second story, “Zooey”. “Franny”, using the above mentioned literary technique, explores the title character’s trip back to Yale to visit her scholarly boyfriend. Franny, herself, is a hyperconscious, learned young woman sick of the egotistical and often useless work of the academic set. She finds herself disgusted by the trite, self-loving remarks her boyfriend makes, as he proudly discusses a recent paper he wrote on Flaubert. As the story wears on, the reader learns that Franny is suffering from some sort of break down, frustrated with everything she’s learned so far, writing if off as meaningless. She puts her faith in the “Jesus Prayer”, which commends the life of someone incessantly praying.

Zooey seems to pick up a week later (though, for the author, about 2 years had passed since the publishing of the first story), and begins with the narration concentrating of Franny’s older brother, Zooey Glass. This longer story provides more insight to the two siblings’ family life and back stories, as Zooey tries to reason with his sister about her supposed break down. Through a mix of intelligent banter, frustrating superiority, continued (and thinly veiled) mourning of their eldest brother, Seymour (who committed suicide seven years prior), the two try to understand themselves through the analysis of each other’s lives, and through culture.

Through their strained conversation, we learn about their own weaknesses and qualities as they try to discern and define the other. They separate the differences between people and their egos, between knowledge and wisdom, and between Jesus and what Franny imagines the son of God to be. Along the way, they also manage to establish a family dynamic like none other, based on love, regret, and a common goal to understand their purpose for existing. The love is established by Zooey’s constant guidance of his words, making sure not to say anything that would shatter his sister too much. J.D. Salinger is able to preserve the very familiar relationship between brother and sister; it does not feel false or contrived. The regret is established as Zooey stumbles into his deceased older brother’s vacant room, pouring over his old objects with a strong sense of painful reminiscence.

In probably one of my favorite passages in a story ever, Zooey calls his sister from the next room over and delivers a very strange, sideways apology/compliment. He revisits a past experience, watching his sister act in a summer stock show. As his speech unfolds, he comes to the realization that he has figured out what she is supposed to do with her life. He relates it closely to an old saying of their deceased brother, saying “There isn’t anyone out there who isn’t Seymour’s fat lady”. The very poignant (yet strange out of context) passage sticks out in my mind, the image of two siblings in two separate rooms confiding in each other.

With this passage, J.D. Salinger won me over.

That was me, that was I.

1. Choose your words wisely.
2. Its funny, cause it was my car.
3. Summer 2008, tour of pretention starts....here.