In Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” there are several motifs, but the one I took an interest in is “starvation/hunger.” When I was thinking of this motif I thought I remembered many instances of it, however once I re-read the poem I found that I was mistaken and that there were only a few, yet very memorable, instances of the motif “starvation/hunger.”

The first is in the opening line, “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,” the second instance somewhat later in the poem, “who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom, who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,” and finally, “who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa.”

The meaning of the motif starts out as simply that the best minds of the narrator’s generation was destroyed by starvation. That starvation goes beyond food, I think, and includes hunger for spiritual, cultural, and intellectual freedom and knowledge. The motif does not really change throughout the poem, but in the next instance, the second quote, I think the author is referring to the purity of the earth, and the filth that people were forced to consume, both food and else-wise. People during the cultural revolution were so starved for individualism and purity of self, but the earth has been so polluted with sameness. The final quote about hunger is exactly the same as the others: hunger for food, for something more, be that sex or drugs or something else.

I think the repeated meaning of the motif enforces the idea the during that time people were hungry, poor, and starved for something more than what they had. The repeated motif only serves to explain why drugs and sex and cultural disobedience exploded: people were tired of the cultural suffocation, and they were hungry for something deeper than what they were given.

There are so many types of loyalty, a major theme, in the play “A View From the Bridge.” The types range from familial loyalty types to personal loyalty. Based on family loyalty, Eddie Carbone welcomes his wife’s family (cousins) into his home, illegally, so that they might carve out a better life to support their own families. This type of loyalty is to be expected because it is his wife’s family, but he is also expected to not “tell on them” so to speak by letting authorities know that they are in the country illegally. Eddie makes a point of telling Catharine, his niece, not to mention them to anyone least she be shunned and mocked by society for outing her family.

Another type of loyalty in the play is the trust that Catharine and Beatrice have in Eddie to do the right thing. They hope that he will be loyal to their family by letting Catharine grow up and be her own woman by getting a job of her own and by letting her marry and man of her choosing. Eddie also has loyalty to himself: he must do what he feels is the right thing is in his heart. These two conflicting loyalties cause a major problem in the family dynamic because Eddie does not yet view Catharine as an adult, thus not letting her make her own choices, but because Beatrice keeps insisting that their niece is an adult, he reluctantly allows her to make those adult decisions.

Eddie’s loyalty is tested when he must decide: protect his own interests (which he thinks is protecting Catharine’s interests) or stay loyal to his wife and family. He decides that the two conflicting ideas are one in the same because the immigrants are threatening his way of life, and so he calls them in. As soon as Eddie ends the call to the authorities, I think he realized that he had instantly severed the ties of family by betraying his family: the loyalty to his wife, the loyalty to his niece, and even to his wife’s cousins who are a part of his family. Even Marco yells out, “HE is the man who killed my children,” because by taking away Marco’s livelihood, Eddie has ended the flow of money thus making Marco’s family suffer.

I think that the idea of loyalty is so important in the blue-collar, ethnic community because in those types of settings, authority figures, such as government, cannot really be trusted to protect the interests of the people. In the types of close-knit communities that Miller describes, loyalty is important because the ones who will always have your back are those people in your community, close family and friends, not the police or government who do not live the harsh life of longshoremen, and so on.

Miller, I feel, might have viewed loyalty as a complicated issue because in the 1950s loyalty to one’s country and loyalty to one’s own interests were at war with each other: being loyal to the United States, or being loyal to your own political views, such as communism. I think that loyalty to important to Miller because at the time the government was asking people to out close family and friends if they had communist views. Loyalty has always been a complicated issue especially on the levels that Miller questions; loyalty to family, the different types of familial loyalty, loyalty to one’s self, and ultimately loyalty to justice, which often takes the form of government.

My Dearest Friend,
I visited the famed Armory Show today. I have to say it was extremely interesting. I saw some of the art world’s most famous and renowned artists, as well as many up-and-coming artists. For example, I saw the work of Wassily Kandinsky, Cézanne and van Gogh, and Abastenia St. Eberle. Not to mention I saw Duchamp’s famous work Nude Descending Staircase.
At first, my friend, I was confused by some of the works. I saw skill in the sculptures and beauty in the painting and drawings, but I did not see this “modernism” that everyone spoke of. Some of the works were obvious in their intent and meaning, while others were confounding in nature. Take for instance, Eberle’s piece, White Slave: this piece is an obvious homage to her work in protecting women from the slave trade. However, Maurice Prendergast’s work, Seascape, is hard to figure out. At first you think you are staring at an abstract work, but slowly the pieces move together to form a vague scene. Then, you look at the title of the work, and all your perceptions about the piece change. I was incredible confused by the meaning of some of the works, and I found myself not trusting the artists: they wanted us to think one way, but then wanted us to change how we saw that work soon after coming to conclusions about that work.
Another interesting artist was Wassily Kandinsky. His piece Improvisation No. 27 (Garden of Love) was, and is still vastly confusing. Duchamp’s piece Nude Descending Staircase was confusing and interesting, too. As I was staring at the works, attempting to understand them, I found that I was not seeing beyond the artist’s obvious intent. What I mean to say is, the works that were not impressionistic, and slightly more representational did not confuse me as much because I could see distinct shapes, see the woman with her rosary, see the people milling around the garden on first glace, and when I did I moved on, thinking that I had got the artist’s meaning, thinking I understood all those paintings had to offer. But I could not see the nude person on the staircase or the garden full of love at first glace; it was only when I read the titles that I started seeing the shapes that the names suggested were in the works. The only problem is when I looked closely, examined those works, I thought, “yes there are shapes that could be interpreted as a garden, and that figure there could be two figures hugging.” In my musing on this, I found the meaning of modernism.
What makes these works modern, my darling, is the hidden meaning, the artist’s desire for you to find more, to look beyond the obvious and find deeper meaning in the works, rather what is simple suggested or obviously given. At first glance, we cannot imagine there being anything being anything deeper or more to the work we are looking at, but what modernists are aiming at is that limit on our imaginations. They are pushing our boundaries, asking us to question the work, asking us to question ourselves. What matters to the modernist is not their intent in subject matter, but our perception of that subject! They want us to see what they want us to see, but they want us to find within ourselves what we see and feel in the art, explore our minds, hearts, intentions, and come to our own conclusions.
My dearest friend, just because I feel as if I know this now does not mean that I suddenly understood all the works in the show. Without a doubt I was still confused by many works, and no matter what any one said I could not figure these works out. But, my dear, I really did enjoy the show and I think I learned something about myself in this show, and I think because of that, the modernists’ goal has been accomplished. I hope to take you to the show soon, my dear.

All my love,
~Hannah

The Yellow Wallpaper ends with the narrator crawling around on the floor, keeping close to the wall. Her husband sees her and he passes out, and she calls him silly. This could possibly seen as a victory for the narrator. The whole time she has been denied by her husband, locked away in a nursery, treated like a child, and ignored in a way. She is very imaginative and rather than entertaining his wife, her husband calls her silly, and takes away the very things that might help her get better. She cannot write or even entertain her imagination because her husband is quick to take them away from her. Her decent into madness could be seen as victory for her because she has escaped into her imagination despite her husband’s attempts otherwise.

Her decent into madness could also be seen as the ultimate defeat in that she has given into her insanity, and she cannot tell the difference between reality and imagination. She is beyond the reach of her husband, but she is also beyond the reach of anyone else. Do I personally feel as if it is a victory? A defeat? I don’t know. I feel as if any victorious feelings that might have been there are eradicated by her insanity. She doesn’t even realize she was defeated her husband.

It is both victory and defeat: She has defied her husband and her imagination reigns supreme, victorious, but her imagination has got the best of her, and her decent into madness is defeat.

613
They shut me up in Prose –
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet –
Because they liked me “still” –

Still!  Could themself have peeped –
And seen my Brain — go round –
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason — in the Pound –

Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity –
And laugh — No more have I –

They shut me up in Prose –
Who is “they”? Society? Her family? “Shut me up in prose” makes me think of being locked way, the addition of “in prose” makes me think of being unable, or not allowed, to speak in a poetic, rhythmical voice. Not being allowed to write in any form but prose would hurt; she makes it sound like it hurts. The dash at the end of the line signals a pause in thought, or maybe a pause for an explanation.

As when a little Girl
Was she shut up as a little girl? The differences in being literally locked up, and figuratively locked up are vastly different, but the pain is still something similar. As a little girl perhaps she was locked up literally, but now as an adult she was locked up figuratively.

They put me in the Closet –
She was put in a closet as a little girl. The pause in the first line in now continued: she is now locked away, just like when she was a little girl when they put her in the closet. The word “closet” is capitalized: the emphasis on this word makes it sound like an incident, like “the Car Crash,” “the Home,” or “the Accident.” Maybe the closet isn’t a real place? A figurative place? She uses “they” again, suggesting that the “they” in the first line is the same “they” in this line; this is also suggestive that maybe “they” are close relations, family perhaps. As an adult, she can only use prose, akin to being put in a closet.

Because they liked me “still” –
Again with the “they.” “Because” is justifying her being locked away. “Still” is in quotations, like “they” said it. “They” like her ‘still’ and those quotations feel like there is scorn or disdain in using that quote. Like an angry teen relating to a friend something their parents told them and the teens disapprove, like using air-quote-fingers. The whole line just feels loaded with scorn and dislike: maybe for being locked up, maybe for “they,” maybe for both.

Still!  Could themself have peeped –
The first word of this line is punctuated with an exclamation. “Still!” like she is mocking the fact that they like her still. Also, has the same feel as “yet” or “in spite of!” Following the exclamation as a phrase that is filled with longing. “IF they could have just seen,” but “peeped” what? The line ends with a dash, as if pausing to explain something. Oddly, she doesn’t you “they” as she had been, she uses “themself”, as if it’s now one person holding her back instead of many people.

And seen my Brain — go round –
This line, just feels like an addition to a thought, a completion of the thought left hanging in the line above. She says “my brain” like what she wished “they” could have seen was emotions or an action, and she’s adding “my brain” as if emotions was NOT what she wanted them to see. Her brain going around in circles, possibly in the action of creating poems or something, is was she wished they could have seen.

They might as wise have lodged a Bird
This line confuses me. Lodged a bird sounds like shooting a bird? I don’t know. The line does sound like she’s putting them down, as if rolling her eyes is implied. “They might as well have done this,” the use of the word “wise” works as “might as well” and suggests too the action she suggests would have been wiser, too.

For Treason — in the Pound –
This line sounds like a completion of thought, an addition to the action she suggests in the pervious line. “Lodged a bird for treason” sounds like charging a certain type of bird for treason. “In the pound” sounds like that’s were the bird should go, or will be, or is? I don’t know.

Himself has but to will
Will power is a strong thought. Himself has but to will is like saying one just has to have the will, the desire, the motivation, for something to come to true. It deviates from the scorn of the pervious lines. Possibly she is saying she just has to have will and she can do anything?

And easy as a Star
Star is capitalized, giving it emphasis. Stars are big and beautiful and bright, often played up and glamorized. The line suggests that if one has the will power to do something it will be as easy as being a star, or maybe as easy as star can do something.

Abolish his Captivity –
If one has the will power, as easy as a star can they will abolish their captivity. Captivity is capitalized as if captivity is more than slavery or chains and such, but also a mental or figurative thing. Like being shut up in the Closet. The author is referring to her own captivity, being shut up in the closet. Perhaps writing this, or saying this, is boosting her own will power, her strength to break out of her bonds.

And laugh — No more have I –
Just have will power, and you can be free and laugh. There is so much hope in that philosophy, and yet she completes her thought with no more have I. She doesn’t laugh any more? Like they shut her up prose, a closet of sorts, and she’s saying that if one has the will they can break free and laugh, but she doesn’t anymore. As if “they” have taken it all away from her. The poem is misleading in that you think it’s going to end on a high note but instead it’s ends so suddenly with such a sad phrase.

1) Name 1-2 things you liked about this assignment. Why?

I liked how our creativity was used in making Whitman’s poem a visual poem. Someone mentioned in class as seeing Song of Myself as movie, very visual. The use pictures allowed the visual aspect to take form. The use of pictures by each individual of the class gives the poem a more personal feel: for every picture attached to phrase or line, I try to imagine the point of view of the person who picked that image. The poem is still Whitman, but in a sense the poet is also someone else, and their poetry is found in the picture, and the key to figuring out the lines of this new poet is in the words of Whitman! I really enjoyed readying the poem once everyone added their picture.

2) Name 1-2 things you disliked about this assignment. Why?

I disliked the layout because it was crowded and in some cases hard to figure out which picture belonged to which line and some piture overlapped others. I was a little worried about how many students would take this seriously and I’m sure some didn’t take it seriously at all. However, from what I can read and tell most took it very seriously, giving it deep thought. I can’t really complaine about this assignment, other than the technical issues involving the website. It was a really fun assignment!

3) By participating in the wiki, what new things did you learn about Whitman’s poem?

I didn’t really learn anything new about Whitman’s poem, but I did learn about myself, and about others when I read their blogs. By myself, I mean to say that in closely re-reading Song of Myself, I had to analyze all my feelings and thoughts as I read each line, and that’s always a learning experience, but then once I found the line I liked most, I had to find a picture. Every time I found a picture I like based on just the poem, I found it didn’t connect to what I was feeling about the poem, so I’d have to try and find another picture, shit focus on my emotions, and so forth. I learned quite a bit about myself. I also learned a little about my classmates and how the poem related to them. I suppose you could say I learned that Whitman’s poem is that it’s truly a poem written for everyone, made to be relateable to every one person!

4) What changes or additions would you make to this assignment? Why?

I don’t think I could add much to this assignment, but I might change how the pictures are added to the poem or the layout of that aspect of the assignment. I might also consider a different promt, or an addition to the promt (“pick a picture, why did you pick that one”) and expand on that; I’m not sure what promt could be used. I wonder if this same assignment could be applied to other types of readings, other poems…?

Reading this section of Song of Myself really touched me on so many levels. I’m a very emotional and contemplative human being. I relate all my experiences in an emotional manner. For example, going to this place or seeing that movie or hearing that song, made me feel “this” emotion. Song of Myself is very similar in how it’s written because it’s all about how Whitman feels.

“…or depressions or exaltations,
They come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself. ”

This relates to my contemporary experience in that in today’s world, a young person has much to think about. We have easier access to news and international relations; the meaning of life takes on a different meaning than it once did. How we as young people fit into this fast paced world of politics, war and death, and money, money, money becomes the meaning of life. What will we do with ourselves, our lives, and how can we remain true to ourselves are the big questions. To me, this line in Whitman’s poem speaks to all those times when I contemplate Life. I still contemplate life, just not in quite the same way as I used to.

I used to spend hours, usually at night, contemplating my life, the grand scheme of things: Life, Death, who I was, am, becoming, and so on. And eventually, I would get so lost in these thoughts, it would seem as if I was viewing these thoughts outside myself, ebbing and flowing, coming to me and leaving me. Like day and night, they come and go, again and again. “Depressions and exaltations,” all of life coming and going, and like I said, I would get so lost in these thoughts, but there comes a point, as Whitman says, that you find that these events of life, the depressions and happy times and how they make you feel are not you yourself, but a part of you. As a whole, you are so much more than just events or emotions.

I picked the picture I did, because of the contrast of light. The picture seems as if it is late afternoon, but it is also hinting at dawn. Twilight and Dawn are like the ebb and flow of the emotions I mentioned above. The girl in this picture is staring out into the wide ocean, as deep and wide as the range of human emotion and thought, and she contemplating all the world has to offer. I like this photo as a representation of realizing that events and emotions and such are all a part of a greater whole, but that whole isn’t nessiccarily who you are as a person, but more of an extension of yourself to be contemplated at measure.

Hannah Al-Saadoon
Eng 158 / 2/13/09
Emerson

“A man can only speak, so long as he does not feel his speech to be partial and inadequate. … As soon as he is released from the instinctual and particular, and sees its partiality, he shuts his mouth in disgust.”
Emerson was a firm believer in self-trust, and this quote only reinforces that. Self-trust is “defined” by Emerson as being free – free from self-imposed limits, such as allowing our job title to define who we are, trusting ourselves and giving ourselves confidence to what wish with grace. For example, Emerson feels that he is writing something important in his essay The American Scholar, and because he has confidence in his work, he feels no shame in sharing it with others.
This particular quote shows that without self-trust, without confidence in ourselves, there can be no confidence in our work. We cannot write a novel, for example, and believe in it, have confidence in it, if we do not trust ourselves. That is, if we do not trust ourselves, then even as we speak, we are confident to a degree, but once we are done, we see holes and flaws, and we doubt what we have just said or done. The following sentences go on to explain that a man cannot do anything if he does not “esteem” his work to be important. “My work may be of none, but I must not think it is of none, or I shall not do it with impunity.” Even if no one else thinks what you have to say is important, if you feel it is worth sharing and you believe it is important, then you should say it, and not doubt yourself by saying that no one will think so, too. In short, if Galileo had not shared his work when he dropped the rocks from the tower, and believed in it, would we know what we do about physics? You have to have self-trust.

Emerson was truly a free-thinker, in my opinion, because he didn’t just say knowledge was power, so read some books and self-evaluate, and this will make you a scholar because you’ve read so many books. No, Emerson went beyond that to say that books (and colleges) are simply tools, access to the Past, and that self-knowledge (nature), book learning, and experience (action) are what truly makes a scholar.

Emerson’s quote, “Colleges and books only copy the language which the field and the work-yard made,” summerizes, I think, what he was trying to say in the speech, “The American Scholar.” What he means by this is that language is something acquired by action: the words in books (which may or may not be used in college) are useless because they are knowledge accumulated into one source, without experience. For example, I knew a little boy who was only 10 years old and in my graduating class: He could spout Emerson, Decarte, Kant, and so on, but it always felt so empty. At only ten, his words had no self-knowledge, no experience in his words and so they sounded so empty, as if reciting a book by heart. It’s useless to read book after book beause there is no experience found in those books.

It is important to understand that colleges and books “copy” the language of the field work because books are meant to inspire, says Emerson. This fits into his arguments about “creative reading” and about the realtion between creation and imitation because like a sciences, past research is meant to be a starting point for new research. That is to say, students go to college and read books to become inspired! They are supposed to take the Past and create a future, not imiate what they’ve read. Colleges and books are simply voices of the Past, and we are supposed to learn from the Past to make a better Future.

I came forth at sunset, the quiet streets of Salem village dreary in the dusky light. I stepped out, but leaned forward to give a kiss to my sweet wife, Faith. And she was aptly named; her pretty head thrust out, kissing me softly, softly. The wind played with her pretty pink ribbons on her cap, and she quietly, quietly called to me.

“Dearest heart,” whispered she, softly, softly, voice full of sadness. Her lips were close to my ears, “Prithee put off your journey till sunrise and sleep in your own bed tonight. A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts that she’s afeared of herself sometimes. Pray tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year.” She said quietly, quietly.

“My love and my faith,” I replied, my lips close to hers, “Of all nights in the year, this one night I must tarry away form thee. My journey, as thou, callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done ‘twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already, and we but three months married?”

“Then God bless you!” said Faith, with the pink ribbons, “and may you find all well when you come back.”

“Amen!” I cried. I implored of her, her the pink ribbons, “Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee.”

And so we parted in the weak evening light, and I as I turned the corner, Faith, with the pink ribbons, was still watching, watching, with a sad air, despite her pink ribbons. I so melancholy she seemed, her peeping, watching eyes following me.

“Poor little Faith! What a wretch am I to leave her on such and errand! And she speaks of dreams! I spied trouble in melancholy face, as if her dreams had warned her, warned her of what trouble, what work, there is to be done tonight! But no, no, should couldn’t know, it would kill her, be the death of her, to think of it! Faith, my sweet, Faith, what a blessed angel on earth! And after this one night, I’ll cling to her skirts and follow her to heaven.”

With my resolve, excellent and firm, I made haste, justified in my resolve for my sweet, sweet, Faith. The gloomy trees on this dreariest of roads, with trees that stand so closely together, closed behind me as a quickly, quickly moved forward. The path is narrow on which to creep through the trees, lonely and quiet, lonely as could be. And I found myself in such a solitude, not knowing who could be behind any tree, concealed behind the innumerable trunks and thick boughs that hung overhead, such a peculiarity in this solitude! My footsteps, lonely and quiet, lonely footsteps, so lonely that yet be passing through an unseen multitude!