Sunday, December 25, 2011

Batters up!

His face was red, it was cold outside.He thought of the two girls he just mangle, he was too jittered to talk about how he felt about what he had done. It started a week earlier. Johny was out looking for a good time. He wanted to enjoy his day a little deeper. School was becoming an easy place to slip a way from. Home economics wasn't doing it for him anymore.  He remembered looking out toward the city from his second story class room, "I need to feel that way again!" The girl behind him was listening to the prof reflect, "my husband and I had a hard time squeezing our second child into the budget but we did what we needed to."
It was three thirty in the morning in a late December, and the night was a smear. He stood at the side of the road, there wasn't one car in sight. "I hate this" his voice came out in whisper, the sweat on his face was beginning to freeze. "Let's not go that far!" her voice repeated itself in the back of his mind, over and over again. "Stop it!" he yelled realizing the drugs were going to wear off fast outside in the cold. The two girls were still there, they both left their homes with him that night. He remembered all the boys, "bring them out, Johny, you know they want out man!" He remember the way the girls giggled when he mentioned that the boys wanted to see them. They were younger then he was, and they were new to the neighborhood, their parents were poor, "our dad's looking for work" he remembered one of them saying.
The Taxi's light was visible through the snow, it was getting worse every second. "Stop" he yelled, as the Taxi rolled by. The driver looked worried, "Just get me outta here!" Johny yelled, his head wobbling.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Yoga is my Yoke! for Christmas and Thieves

The drive back to his house felt longer then usual. He pressed his little cheeks against the windows of the car. The glass was cold. His breath left a fog on the window in front of him as he exhaled. "Shanon?" his mother yelled "what's going on back there, you look sad." He pulled away from the window, looked at his mom sitting in the drivers seat. The traffic was bad, they were sitting in an idle, all he could think about was sliding in the snow. The whole afternoon was such a fun house.
"Mom?" his asked grabbing the paper she had on the seat next to him. "I wanna watch a movie tonight after supper." So did she, "Yeah sweetie that's such a good idea." she stopped behind a black truck. It was running rich, she stopped so close to it they were quietly breathing the stink. "It stinks mom, what is that?" he inquired, "It smells like gas mom." Traffic's slowly pushed forward and she gave the other car room to breath.
"What did you do at school" the question made him think, he thought of his dad, "Nothing! Mom?" he stopped to think about his dad some more. "Who's that guy?" his question peaked her interest. "that guy that came over, who left his guitar?"
That question calmed her and she answered energetically "Oh, that is Greg's guitar! You never met him? That's funny baby that you ask he's Bella's friend!" Shanon just sat in the back listening to Adel, "can I call dad when we get home!" Mom didn't really want to talk to him at all. "Yeah!" her voice whimpered as she reached into her purse and found her cell. "Call him now hun!" her fingers were already finding there way to his number. She placed the phone on speaker and handed the five year old the cell. "I wanted to tell you dad, that I have a guitar, and I'm a gonna watch a movie after we eat our dinner dad!" His little voice overwhelmed him. The joy in the sound of his little boys tone made him blush lightly. "I'm at school Shanon, but I wanna talk to you, are you in the car on your way home?" His question was deliberate, it was to his mother. "Yeah dad, mom just picked me up." He looked at his watch, it was five twenty two. "Did you have a good day at school?"
Shanon was looking out into the traffic holding the phone, his mom was listening, "Shanon" asked his dad, "He's not paying attention Gerald" yelled his mother. "Oh" Gerald's voice broke. They both laughed. "Is he cute?" he asked, looking into the night sky thinking bout the small piece of his heart on his way home. "You know it" answered the boys mother, glancing over at the boy holding the phone in the rear view.
"It's such a long drive home today dad" his yell made her realize that the snow was falling harder and harder, "It's snowing bad." Gerald could see that, "it'll be a while yet little one." he said. "I'm tired dad"

Sunday, December 18, 2011

record of heavy drum&bass for midjets that fly!

"So you think that people well change?" it was the question that he made everyone at the party answer. "Strange!" she said, talking to a stranger, the two women were standing on the balcony of the two story mansion speaking. "Yeah! I agree" They looked at each other. "I'm Melony!" said one to the other reaching her hand out. "Jessica, and yes it's been a pleasure, so what do you think of that little fuck out there?" They both stood staring down at the little man, "He's fucking repulsive!" Her voice was angry enough, that Jessica thought that Mel might have the audacity to do something gross to the man talking to the group of people under them. "Mel, you wouldn't spit on him would you?" Jessica knew that with a little encouragement she could have someone here to drop a bomb on the guy. "He's arrogant enough, you know, he just won't let go!" She stopped to think about it. "But no!" she exhaled in relief "I fucking know better then to spit on him." 
"Hey girls!" the voice came from below them, it was him. All they could do was look at one another, "You look beautiful ladies come down meet the public!" They didn't like it one bit, his asking them to come down and talk to the other. "What do you want us to talk about Fredrick?" Jessica asked, her long blonde hair reflected the sun. "It's lunch time girls, you should come down to eat to see what everyone's brought for us to share. "There is food?" Mel could feel her stomach growl, right then she smelt the aroma of some freshly back pastry. "Are they fucking baking?" she yelled, her blue eyes looking down at Jessica. "Wanna go down and eat Jessy?" Immediately Jessica's rolled back. "No, why?" Mel thought about her own question. "That's redundant. Whatever, Jessica let's go eat I'm hunger.!" Jessica sat and frowned, "Mel" she whined, "Don't fucking leave me for him, he's fucking nuts" her voice broke and Mel could see that her eyes were starting to water. "You're scared of him!" she yelled. "No" Jessica screamed.
"Ladies" he yelled from under their feet. "What's the matter, don't you feel hungry, you've been up there for such a long time." He stopped to breath and turn from them. Looking over the landscape the two could see the sun casting a shadow behind everything. He turned back at them. The sun warming the back of his head. "What's happening?" his voice was become sharper, her was beginning to feel the anxiety. "Mel, you're ready, go eat!"
Her stomach grunted loud enough to be heard by both of them, Mel laughed. "Jessica, what are you so scared of?" the question cooled her. "Scared?" Jess asked, " you think I'm scared?" Mel shook her head yes. "Yeah, yeah I do!"
They could hear him, he was holding his keys to the door downstairs, "What the fuck you doing Fred" asked Mel, she had to yell to make sure he heard her. "I'm coming up girls!" he said  just as he turned the key to the lock. Mel smiled hearing the sound of the door, it was familiar to her, she could feel it's weight. Jessica jumped the moment they heard it shut. "He's in the house!" fear was filling her eyes. "Jessy calm down, you can't be serious, are you scared of him like that" she could tell her questions were redundant, "Jessy you're fucked, he's not that bad!" she stopped "what did he do to you?" the question came as the door to the bedroom that lead to the balcony was being pushed open.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Chad Left his roll up the rim cup

 "What up Chad?" the man in the overalls felt cut off. "Who's this?" he stopped and looked, "Neil!" the two stood in the tim hortons entrance. "What's  up Chad?" Neil could tell that Chad didn't want to talk. "What's up?" then the girl walked and Neil understood. "Oh" Neil grunted "I see!" He looked at the pair and remembered the house off Groat road. "So Chad you still doing it?" he asked, Chad blushed and the girl looked disoriented. "How old is she?" he asked. "Nancey?" he answered pulling her in closer, smearing her across his work clothes. "What are you doing Chad?" she screamed. The three tables occupied by four elderly couples all looked over at the threesome. "Shut up Nancey and be a good girl!" Chad's voice let off that he was getting excited, the red in cheeks made Neil remember. "Chad let me go!" Nancey's face looked scared. Neil remember what he made him do. "Let her go Chad!" his tone echoed through the room. Even the kitchen staff were out watching what was to happen, Chad looked around. "Here take her" letting her go, her blouse was covered in what Chad had on his overalls. She ran to Neil, he grabbed her.

innate warship of monkey's from Texas

She actually recognized him first, "Hey," she spoke over the noise in the bar. "Hey, is your name John?" she was dressed in the tightest outfit, he could see ever inch of her body. "Yeah, that's me!" he smiled, he had forgotten her. "You still with that guy?" he asked. He remembered that she was in a relationship, except that was over a year ago. "Yeah, yeah I'm still with him." He knew they had a shitty relationship. "So how did things pan out with you and Laura?" she asked him. He remembered that she was there the first time he set his eyes on her. It made him laugh, "oh yeah! You were there the first time we met." He stopped to think about it. He was doing the same thing as he was doing the year before, so was she, kinda,"So no more coat check?" he asked, she was the front beer tub girl. It was still early there wasn't enough traffic coming into the bar for her to have to ignore him.
"You're still with her eh?" she was surprised, and she was smiling. "Yeah, yeah we're still together, we cut each other off all the time, but she's a writer and..." he stopped, the words were in his mouth. "I love her" he smiled. "I was hung up on someone I used to know when I met you two!" She looked down at him, the beer tub was oozing Budweiser. "I think we're addicted to a certain kind.... the same kind" the music was to loud for her to hear him. Yelling she said "She is definitely one of the most sincere girls ... I" she squinted, her eyes flaring, he felt the back draft. The glare disturbed him.  "You'll ever meet!".  He smiled at her, looking up, through her nylon clothing. "You're right!" he said "I got to go to work now" he unpacked his gear and did what does.....

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

That's good I'll be your kindergarten teacher

"We are a cheap pickle waiting to happen" she wanted to draw out a laugh. The little boy in the back seat was not having it. "Hey Georgy, what's up?" his little cheeks were bright red, flush from the heat in the car. It made her smile. "Wanna go to MC.Donald's.?" She asked expecting cheers. "No" was the response she got, "What?" she snarled glaring into the rear view mirror. He was too little to care about her eyes. "Georgy you're five right?" she asked. He looked toward the rear view mirror and made eye contact from directly behind her. He was sitting in a booster seat. "Yes! I'm five" the music on the radio was a song he knew. She watched him move with the rhythm, "you're a great dancer." That made him smile. "Dad say's that MC.Donald's is bad for me!" His voice squeezed her heart, she understood the innocents. "Oh! That's why you don't want to go and have a happy meal." She saw his father in her mind alone and relentless. "Don't think it's good for you eh!" The little boy's eyes shined in the dimness of the gray winter afternoon light.
"I wanna see my mom!" he said to her. "Settle down!" she shouted, it came out angry. "What did I say?" he asked innocently, buckled into the back seat of the Suburban. Fear started overcoming her, she could remember the way his father made her feel. "Do you remember when I took you to the park?" she remembered the lightning storm three years earlier. "Do you remember when you where two?" she asked him, he sat in the back watching the light fade and the ambiance made by the evening traffic reminded him of his mother. "I remember the storm!" his little voice made her smile. "When are we gonna go to my dad's" The question un nerved her. "I just need you to help me find something back at home" she said pulling the black truck into her garage. The little boy had a vague memory of where he was, "I'm five now" he said as she took off the restraints. "I go to school now!" 

Saturday, December 10, 2011

a company I did a billboard for broke my back

She stood under the sign breathing heavy. She was on top of the world for the first time and at that moment she remembered. It was the only time in her life that she felt that way. "Baby, when I saw my picture on that board overlooking the city I thought I had it all." He looked at her thinking. "What do mean?" he asked frowning "don't you have it all right now?" She exhaled, and frowned along side him. Then they both smiled at each other. "No" her eye's looking away "No! I don't feel like I have anything left." Her attitude made him feel rejected. "I love you baby, and I thought your Picture was great!" He stood up and walked towards her. "Can I sit next to you?" he asked, pushing her over. "Yeah baby, come here" she reached her hand toward him. "I love you baby" he said falling into her, then they cuddled. "why don't you think that you have it all? We're not hungry, we're not angry, you're working as a graphic designer!" She knew how he felt about life.
"The billboard meant so much and it made me have something to work for and I thought that it would free me." He knew what she was taking about. "Yeah well, you're lucky anyway!" he told her pushing her body closer to his.
"You know we are lucky because.." he stopped, "well we got this house too!" he looked around, outside the the windows they were sitting so close to. He could see the whole city around him and it was beyond beautiful and she knew that. "I know you love this place baby so why aren't you happy?" his question bothered her, she knew why.
"I" she stopped, her body was feeling suffocated by his hugs. He squeezed her even closer and it made her feel better. "Baby I love you." she said in a whisper.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Just take your meds!

"It's just so gross!" his mom told him. "Henry, you know we can't have this kind of thing don't you" She was talking about his drug use. "What do you mean mom!" he understood her, but he wanted her to say it. He could tell she didn't want to. "Just do it, come on hun! Be a good sport and listen to me when I say that it's just gross" Her eyes were glued to his, and it made him sick. "What's wrong with it mom?" the question infuriated her, her face flushed with rage. It made him laugh, "hey mom, you know what dad called you when you get all angry like this" her face grew redder as the words fell out of his mouth, "BULL!"
In that instant she wanted to give up, she could see it in his face, that rage, his fathers contempt. "Henry" she demanded, "What do you want mom?" SHe looked at him, her heart racing, "I'm not a bull!" the words relaxed her. She started to breath. "Breath mom" he said. She laughed, "Listen Henry, I know you don't want to listen to me, but you have to." she leaned in closer. "Get the fuck away from me mom, I don't want to do it. I'm fucking sixteen years old." he stopped, She stood up looking at him. "Listen you gotta do it, you're father is out of the picture." He thought about him, where he was. "Yeah!" his voice broke, the image of him,, his father and mother together dawned in his mind, "Take them Henry!" The words broke through the horizon and fear seized him, "He'll come back!" he said looking her right in the eye, "Now go fuck yourself." Her eyes began to water, and she began to cry but she wasn't leaving his room. "Do it please, just do it for me!" she begged him, they were alone in the small apartment. "He stood up and looked at her."
"Fuck mom, why?" he asked, looking over her shoulder, profiling her cheek and staring past her ear into the the hallway behind her. "i don't want to live with you anymore!" she shook her head. "Please, Henry!" it made him laugh. "What do you want!" he asked again now trying to push by her "I just want to get out of here." he wasn't lieing and she knew that. "This'll fix it son!" she was right, he'd just end up going back to bed. "I don't want to do it mom" now struggling to push past her, "Henry" she yelled holding on to him with both hands, "Please"

Thursday, December 8, 2011

I killed it!

"You know I feel the best when I'm with you?" Jessica knew what he was talking about. The two of them had been together for six years already. "Remember how well we did in school together," she remember looking at him. "You always were so patient when you were helping me study!"  it was true, she was so patient. She liked him so much, she used to write his notes for him. "Do you remember?" he demanded, he was always such a screamer, she hated it. "Yeah!" she though about the two of them. "You were always so willing to learn." She remembered why, "you never showed up to class." They looked at each other.
"Jessica, it doesn't matter, I gota good job." She thought about it. He was sitting on the couch in front of the TV. He was going bald. "You're going bald!" it came out of her in a smirk. She couldn't help but laugh. "You've been with me for six years and you just realizing that I'm losing hair now?" He looked at himself in the mirror. "it's hasn't gotten worse since you got pregnant the first time." He reminder her, "so?" she asked, "So what?" he asked back sounding tough. "So what'd you think?" He knew what she was talking about. "I don't know." He didn't know what to think. It upset him. "I really don't know." His voice sounded shattered. "I'm not ready, baby, but I have a good job!" He pushed his head between her breasts like a child. "That's what got you into this mess." Her hand gripping the patch of hair he had left and pulling, "Ahhhh, stop that" he laughed. They looked at eachother, "it's you, you're the reason." She was, she thought, she loved to pull his hair, "Fuck Ryan! How are we going to deal with this?" She didn't know either. She didn't know how to tell him the truth. "Umm, I think we can deal with it" he was right, the two of them had done it once before. "Remember, the rocky mountains, Oh God." They both remembered, she looked at him, "yeah baby I'll never forget." But she wanted to forget, she needed to tell him how she felt, "Why?" she asked..
"Why what?"" he answered ready to go back toward her, push close to her, to touch her. He rose to touch her and as he did she raised her hand to push him away. "What's wrong" looking at her, "I know we're not ready, but we can do this." She knew he was right. "You need faith baby." he knelt down low before her, she started crying, "You need to have faith for the baby" he said on his knees. Tears fell from Jessica eye's.  She just Kept crying, "Ryan!" she asked. "What?"

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

something unexpected

It hurt so bad, her rejection. "She didn't know me!" it was all I could say. "She's lucky" he only thought so because he realized that they usually don't. "Not before they fall in love" he was sitting alone at the table. There was no one at the school. It was empty. He had been studying for the last, three hundred years. He wanted to graduate. "I need nine more credits!" It was unbelievable. The idea of having to go back to school for nine more credits blew his mind. "This is unbelievable" the echo of the empty building made him laugh. "Fuck no one cares about this bullshit!" he was right. The only person who enjoyed events like this were the women at the registrars office. "Fuck" he thought about them. "Six old ladies" they all knew him. He was certain that one of them had led him astray. He was right. but only because they wanted to fish him in.

"He has a nice ass!" said one of the more mature looking women in the office to the other.

It was the Christmas season and all the lights in the trees were lighting up the the area around the cubicles. Everyone in the office was wearing the most precious smiles. "Merry Christmas." they cheered almost as soon as they made eye contact with you. "I'm here to talk to the registrar" the woman behind the desk handed me a paper. He looked at it "a questionnaire asking me for my id information. Lindsy?" He made eye contact with the young woman. She was sitting behind the desk, there was no one else waiting, "do we have to go through with this every time?" She just nodded her head. She made him laugh. "you're lucky you're not ugly! Or Id hate you lady." She smiled. She felt that the comment was out of place, but because there was no one there she enjoyed the compliment. He didn't like her at all, but he thought she was hot. He smiled at her and she waved him off, "have a seat." all the chairs were pushed up against the back of room. He sat down and fiddled with his eye phone while she watched. She was pretending to work on the computer, but it was three days before the Christmas Vacation was going to start and there really was nothing to do. He waited for six minutes before the adviser showed up. She was smiling. They all always just smiled.
"Come in" she said all happy and polite, her purple blouse was silk and she wore matching shoes. Her hair was purple too, "come in" they both sat down , "so what the conflict with the scheduled" her face was withered but she didn't use too much make up, she had a very peasant nature about her. "It seems I'm not going to graduate because of nine credits, Ive looked over..." He pulled out the 2012 calendar and read off all the requirements, "I need two senior electives, and I thought I had them, I thought I was gong to graduate this year" she looked over the paper . "Yes" she exhaled "Yes, I bet you did!" it didn't sound like he was going to be getting around it."No, you actually have to take several more course, not enough for a full course load, but yes, a few more courses." It made him feel sick. Nausea filled his senses and all he wanted to do was vomit on the desk. "You ok" her eyes actually showed concern, but more of a terror that be might sick up on her blouse. They were trapped in the  room together, she didn't mind and he could not tell what was going to happen to him ten months in the future. "I guess we'll be seeing you next semester" it excited him, and her! bitch!

There is this place in the world where I really like to be. I never get to go there, and whenever I try I end up having to come back here to live the way they make us. I want to be different, I don't want a responsibility. I want progress I want money. She was beautiful the day I met her. It wasn't just her eyes. I could tell she was living in love. I was drunk and the moment I laid eye's on her I knew. "Wanna fuck?" were my first words, she had these big tits. I fucking still like big tits. But now when I see hers I remember, there is places I won't be going back to. I'm not the only one who goes around living on the edge of the things he loves. I used to do drugs, I used to get so fucked up I watched the Atlas on the wall, the picture of the planet drawn out and mapped out, spin. I was fucked up on speed that my doctor gave me, I asked him and he hooked me up. It was legit. I was legit. I remember the first time I went back to a doctor after sobering up. He said "I'll put you back on the stimulants, we're gonna have to start slow though and go back to your preferred dose over a period of six months. My preferred dose was an overdose, he knew that. The pharmaceutical companies don't mind kids who like to crank out a term paper on crack. I didn't take the drugs, I was scared and the last time I ravaged what I wanted she got pregnant. Fucking big tits.... what can I say. I didn't even understand what I had until I met someone that took it all away.
A few years back I had what God told me not to take. I couldn't help  it, it just jumped in. I was sitting alone in my car, in the front seat there one minute, and there she was sitting next to me snuggled believing in my front seat the next minute. At that time I was driving a taxi, a father, feeding a baby that I made from the last girl that wanted to see things through my eyes, from my front seat. I have eyes that God gave me to see, to teach people to whisper to each other. To Tell them we all fall in love eventually. Love is fleeting and it's fetched, it's seen, it jumps into front seats. I know love, I live in it. Can you see it?
Now when I see a picture of the places I really want to be I just look away and imagine myself there. I know it's cold where I'm really from, but that's better then way to hot to see. I live in a loving world that's warm enough for me. I don't live with those people from the frozen tundra, in the soulless void of knowledge and money. I don't let them tell me that we're anywhere different then heaven. Only a few people get to bring that place with them when they fall. I did. I required certain skills to control it, not to get every girl I meet pregnant. I love those who have seen it through our eyes. I loved so many people. Why did I fall here, to see who's winning, to change minds on control and to believe that this is the most awesome thing to witness and to tell those people that think they can control everything that they can't. You can only watch and see, you have a choice, and that's to know. I know where I am from and where I'm going. To those who forget that I take everything with me no matter if you're trying to hide it or not, I can see you and  I know you.  You will always know me first.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Eighteen to Twenty

Through the narrative techniques of Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte, we are introduced to Jane and Emma, two nineteenth century women, proceeding through life in two different ways, each growing towards their own individuality, in the process of courtship. Jane and Emma’s characteristics are developed from two different perspectives of class throughout most of the novels Jane Eyre and Emma. Both characters have ideals that conform to their authors view on modern progress. The protagonist’s choices of partners reflected what the women understood about their relationships with the opposite sex in the nineteenth century. Stepping out of the box and into the novel both Bronte and Austen introduce their audience to the real world and reveal a window overlooking a life of the nineteenth century woman.

The young women, portrayed by Austen and Bronte, live in the same society just fill different positions in the class system. Jane Eyre unravels itself around the trials and tribulation of a poor orphaned yet strong willed governess. Austen places Emma in a much more opulent position in the world, she say’s “The real evils indeed of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her many enjoyments.”(7) Bronte see’s Jane’s position in the world as strange and exciting “Probably, if I had lately left a good home and kind parents, this would have been the hour when I should most keenly have regretted the separation: that wind would then have saddened my heart… I wished the wind to howl more wildly, the gloom to deepen to darkness and then confusion to rise to clamour.”(65) Eyre uses the difficulties presented to her as ways to strengthen her ability to cope with adversity. Throughout her novel Bronte develops a perspective that allows the reader to attribute strength to adversity and not base it on class. Austen does it too, except from the other end of the class system, she explains
After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able of whom were Mrs. And Miss Bates and Mrs. Goddard, three ladies almost always at the service of an invitation from Hartfield, and who were fetched and carried home so often that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship for either James or the Horses.”(21)
Looking at Emma from Jane Eyre ‘s perspective Emma reflects many similarities in opinion to Jane’s younger pupil Adele. Emma has a lot to learn about the true virtues that are to be reflected by the nobility. Austen writes about how Emma meets Robert Martin,
His appearance was very neat, and he looked like a sensible young man, but his person had no other advantage; and when he came to be contrasted with gentleman. She thought he must lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet’s inclination. (31)
Mr. Rochester bestows Jane Eyre with his good will in the appropriate master servant manner according to Bronte; Miss. Eyre would have it no other way but to leave respectfully after Rochester say’s,
I saw in you eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not… ‘strick delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good gennii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, good night!’(177)
The female authors are acknowledging that the true virtues that reinforce the reasons for class are not material or superficial, but are imbedded in the commitment to maintain the well being of everyone around them, and to nourish those who are successful in supporting others.    
            While focusing on the main characters of their novels Austen and Bronte reflect their opinions of the process of social intercourse. After a short visit with Mrs. Elton Emma decides,
Mrs. Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with her self, and thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine and be very superior, but with manners which had been formed in a bad school, pert and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from one set of people, and one style of living; that if not foolish she was ignorant, and that her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no good (253)
These are Austen’s ideals, this is one way for Emma to expose that education, and cultural style has a significant bearing on the level of virtue found in a good person. Bronte confronts the same issues form a different direction,
It is vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it…Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and field for their efforts as much as their brothers do…and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. (129-30)
Jane Eyre humbly opens our mind to accept that things change. In an ideal world where Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte are both content, people moving up in class do so with the an ambition to grow culturally and with manners.
            What the women come to understand about themselves throughout the novel allows the girls to mature into potential brides; the choices these female protagonists make in spouses represents their authors view on men.  Emma’s goal was to pawn Harriet off to the highest bidder. Mr. knightly always saw through the façade Emma created and held the idea that Mr. Marine would have Harriet because he loved her. Even Toward the very end of the novel Emma is not prepared for what Mr. Knightly has to say about the two,
“You are prepared for the worst, I see—and very bad it is. Harriet Smith marries Robert Martin.” Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared –and her eyes, in eager gaze said, “No, this is impossible!” but her lips were closed.
Austen has Emma struggle with her acceptance with Mr. Martin right to the very end of the novel. Mr. Knightly insists that she understand him before they can be bound in matrimony. Jane Eyre is called back to a broken Mr. Rochester, who calls himself “a Vulcan – a real blacksmith, brown, broad-shouldered; and blind and lame into the bargain.’”(509) Jane doesn’t mind the way Rochester looks even after the fire. He tries to shake her away from him in all his ugliness when Jane say’s, “I shuddered involuntarily, and clung instinctively closer to my blind but beloved master. He smiled.”(511) Rochester needs to know how Jane feels about him and his deformities; just like Mr. Knightly need to know that Emma understands why Mr. Martin is the right man for Harriet. The novels develop the sense of love then they answer the question of who to marry.
            The eighteenth century female protagonist could be from any class, as long as  she had a character with heart; according to Austen and Bronte the female hero of a nineteenth century novel has the potential to marry the man of her dreams. Emma overcomes a series of adversities and obstacles that are fundamentally different from the journey Jane Eyre needs to take. Their dreams come true. The two authors use different yet dynamic ways to portray perspectives of young females growing up in the same period in history. Jane and Emma get married to men they love and cherish. Bronte and Austen end their story on happy notes that open the minds of generations of young women to come.

Work Cited

Austen, Jane "Emma". London:Penguin Classics, 1996. Print.

Bronte, Charlotte “Jane Eyre”. London:Penuin, 1996. Print.

in spanish class

It was getting colder in the classrooms over the past several days, the weather was changing. "So?" she asked sitting in a chair in the university cafeteria. "You ready for finals?" her breath was so bad I didn't know what to do. "No not really" I was moving away, scootching over with my ass. I didn't want to sit next to her. "What's on the agenda, I didn't take the question sheet from the prof." She looked up at me, face full of pimples eyes so wide, looking at me through these thick glasses. I remember the professor didn't know what to do with the both of us. She put us in a group whether we liked it or not. She was OK with it I could tell. She was ugly, Fat, and she was wearing a cast. "I don't know" she said, "I didn't get one either" she waved her pen through her finger rather gracefully. She knew what the assignment was about, but she didn't want to tell me. "I'm your partner!" I shouted it, loud, Like a boy, with a temper. She laughed at me. So did two other girls on the other side of the tables. I looked at her, she looked back at me wide eyed with those thick glasses. I laughed, it pissed her off. I could tell. "You have the highest mark in the class, you know what you're doing, tell me what's up!" She didn't want to, she just sat on the table, waving her legs. I wanted the legs of the table to break, to drop her, I was angry, she was laughing at me. It was twenty to six. The class was starting in ten minutes. "We have to do our homework" she laughed at me again, "I'm done, asshole." She got off the table, it bent. I laughed, she hated me. She went to class, I watched her. It was five to six when I got in to the room. I was on coffee, I felt good, I had a chocolate bar. I had a shitty mark, not an overall great average. I don't care enough to sit in front. I try not to sit in the back. And there she was, her fat ass taking up the best seats in the second and third row. I fucking blew a gasket. The Prof took us outside. I made her cry. Tears in her eyes, I sat where she was. I made her cry.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

he hung up on her

"you'll fall back in love eventually" he said to himself, he was getting sick of sitting in his apartment alone. "I almost preferred seeing her every day." She was back at home, with her family, far away from him. He looked back to the internet to see what he would see. He Googled her name. She didn't use facebook anymore, "Not since she left the country." The sounds of his roommates dog came in through the walls. "I'm moving next week" he wanted to hear the sound of that, "ah... let's tweet it." The information evoked lots of reaction from his followers.
Cattingitdown replied "Where too, asshole?" The two of them were on good terms. He did want to tell his whole social network that he was going to be moving back to the old house. Except he didn't want to tell them that it was because she had moved away and left him.
Looking over his email he saw that his mom was on Gmail. She was on the internet too now, talking, facebook too. "Even had your picture taken by a pro" was the first thing he said when he saw her pop on screen. She laughed, they both did, and they talked about what he was cooking, how he was doing at work. She was gone and it was visible that he had lost a piece of himself in the separation.
"I need two hundred thousand dollars." Typically he started high, he didn't care about what she was going through. "There is a future in this!" she laughed. He was right, if he wanted it, something, anything  he was always right. "I don't have that kind of money!" He watched her words roll of her tongue. It made him feel sick. The two were three thousand kilometers apart. "I can see you mom" his mind never waiver in it's  amazement, he was angry. "I just bought a new house" she said to him. Her face was flush, so was his. "I know, I know" He looked away and picked something up. It was a magazine. He hung up and called his Friend "Hey Felmont!"
They met at Loonies the local tavern, "So she's gone eh?" Felmont concluded just seeing the look on his face. "You look like shit and you stink" the expression made everyone look him over, Felmont just laughed. They sat down and started to drink beer. Felmont sat filling the glasses with the house Ale. It was delicious he thought listening to Felmont tell him about his last relationship.
"You see" he said slurring his words "I haven't told you about it yet" he stopped and started to think. Looking over his face you could recognize he was a handsome man, but his youth was being wasted away and pitched back into the bar night after night. "I didn't tell you bout her because she was so much older then me." His sweaty drunk face made him look like a red tumor. "She wants me so bad." The two were at the bar when Felmont ordered a shot of Tequila. They were used to drinking together.
Towards  midnight he began to feel the natural way..... He passed out, Felmont found his wallet and paid for another round then took a cab home.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

He was reading her tweets!

It was the last time they talked, "WHat a mess!" The words echoed in the empty room. He was getting lonely, he even left a message on his cousins Facebook page to wish her a happy birthday. "We never see each other, only Jason gets to go to Italy." He was right, he was alone. Well not entirely, he had his friends.
"What's up?" his tiny i phone was all he had. "Fuck, yeah!  Yeah!, so wanna do something for Christmas, ...No ... Yeah, Yeah I understand, yeah I wish I was going too, but I can't afford it." After hanging up he realized he was back in the same empty room, "Twitter eh?" this was a question,  that he knew the answer to. "It's all I got," looking over his phone, "I love you!." tweet, " So logging on is better then logging off, "I don't want to kill myself," he said as he looked over a vile of fifty Dexedrine piles.  "but I don't wanna pretend without anyone here to help me."
Amanda was always down to tweak out, she was sick and her dad ate her pills before she even got to see em. "So you're being orphaned this year?" Her long brown hair was tangle, but she was skinny and she brought coffee, and she loved to watch the x files. "Let's start a twitter page!" she said, iridescently stoned, she was glowing, and he was happy not to be alone. "Yeah!" He stopped and looked at her, "Are we gonna take off our clothes?" it was a good question. She liked him, and it was Christmas. "Probably, how many pills you got?" Her fingers rolled over the prescription label, "it say's there is three refills.  ha" it was funny, they both laughed. he looked at her, "I have a week off work" They both laughed again. She was sitting on the sofa texting something somewhere onto the internet.
They knew each other in real life, as well well as on the internet. It's where they met, well kinda. They met on the bus, "Public transport, I fucking can't stand public transport" she was watching him yell. He was drunk and so was she. She was with her friends. They were on their way to a party, the whole bus was full of kids. It was a Friday night, "I hate public transport" he did, she could tell, she was watching him from across the nine. He remembered the first time he saw her.
"We were on that bus, to that party remember" he stalled, "I was drinking!" She smiled remembering, "I remember the day" he said breaking her thought. "What are you gonna do?" she asked, looking high and smiling. He was already on the computer. "I remember you were tweeting that night, every time I caught you looking you'd talk about it" he thought about it, "I didn't understand the technology back then, I'm going back to read it." She blushed. "I said I liked didn't understand public transport" She watched as he reviewed the two year old tweets. "It say's here" he said reading "No use trying to be a tyrant, were all on the same train!" He laughed out loud."I was so drunk that night, and I fucking hate the train you know that. "Yes" she said pretty, "I also like you when you're a tyrant." she laughed at him. They were both alone.

Sunday, November 27, 2011


"SO the soul lives there eh? " he asked in a snarly way. We were together again. I missed him too much to let him go. "You know I found someone else, don't you?" I just shook my head and laughed. I knew he had met so many women. It was his job, to go out and meet people. He was so good with the women. He wasn't even that handsome. His last girlfriend never cared, but then again she was cheating on him. He was such a faithful lover. I remember because I wanted him so bad when I first laid my eyes on him, except he was with her.
"Yeah baby that's where the soul lives." I knew he understood where I was going with this, but he was slow, so I had to explain. "OK you ready?" He hated when I talked down to him but he tolerated it whenever I was defining things for him. "OK" he sat down and watched me. He had these perfect young eyes. "So" I said, he was looking at my butt. I could tell, he smiled when I jiggled it. That's the kind of thing I really liked about him, he liked my ass, genuinely liked it, and it's not that great. "OK, so you sold her your soul right?" My questions always seemed to puzzled him.
"Well" he answered. "She fucked me first, then she bought me lots of stuff, it was stuff I needed so I'm not sure if I sold her my soul." His face winced after he said those last word. "So did you sell her your soul?" I asked him expecting him to be honest, that was another one of his better traits, he was honest. "Yes I guess" his face always seemed to darken when he thought back to the two of them together. "So did you ever fuck her to get something?" I knew he had, I remember he told me "I can't see her anymore see's making me feel like shit. She keeps calling me stupid, and worthless." I couldn't believe my ears when I first heard about that. All I could think was, Ditch, I even said to him "take off! she's old saggy and rotten." I could tell back then that she owned him.
When I first saw them together I understood what he was talking about when he said things like "She is out of my league" He was right, she was way to old for him. But he figured "she's settled, she can help me with him!" He was right too, she was so good with his son. He was a young dad, babies mama! Forget it, she wants to stay a single mother, except there is no way that baby was going to be anything other then a crutch for a single woman like her. Looking back at him, when I first met him I understood what he saw in her, "Stability" he said solemnly.
"So, you sold her your soul?" I said looking at him, I could tell he didn't want to but he acknowledged me. "Yeah she's got it!" his voice was meek, he wanted to reach out, scream "No" but that wasn't going to happen. "I sold her my soul" he stopped, looked over at the sun, "what am I suppose to do!" I looked at him happy, he finally admitted to being a creature of darkness. "it's OK, listen, so, she bought your soul, but while you were fucking her, you stole her heart right?" I knew that old bat, even though she was destroying his spirit, loved him. "She gave me everything" he said smiling. I could tell she had corrupted him the first time we made love. He knew what he liked and the way he wanted me,  I listened then like I do now. "She was submissive?" I inquired,  knowing the answer, asking to move him out of our comfort zone. "You were the boss in bed, weren't you?" he didn't want to answer me. "Weren't you?" I asked again. He finally looked up and said "yes". It made me laugh, all his shyness, he was beautiful, his love for a woman who lied, cheated and stole from him, a woman that corrupted him, for a woman who would not accept what he was inside. "So, listen, you sold her your soul but you stole her heart right?" I watched as his face grew redder and redder. He didn't understand where I was going with this. "Where does the soul live?" I asked at the height of what looked like his anxiety. He laughed and said.... "i don't know!" So I told him, with a little hesitation "the heart... That's were you can find the home for the soul, you stole it back... so don't worry, you still have it." I looked at him, "I know you do, I love you baby!" His face got so red and he kept blushing when he told me "I'll give you my heart as long as you never think life is about surviving! Life" he yelled "is about

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

How did they make change 101

How did they make change 101
Willkie Collins and Charles Dickens both disagreed with the way Britain proceeded with colonizing the rest of the world; the two authors portray their opinions, relating to foreign affairs, from opposite sides of the conflict. Collins presents us with Seringapatam on the brink of the turning of the century; he identifies the instigator of the original theft of the moonstone as an able, white, British soldier. Dickens brings us into the untidy world of Caddy, exposing us to her trials with Mrs. Jellyby, the irresponsible mother lost in Brrioboola Gha, Africa. We are given Ezra Jennings by Collins as the ignoble bearer of truth, whose life is fulfilled by his respectably being acknowledged by the nobility he so desperately yearns to be a part of.  Acknowledging that there was conflict throughout the way the British Empire was spreading its ideals into eastern culture spotlighted the problems within colonialism and made them relevant for everyone to reflect upon.
            Collins begins his novel in seventeen ninety-nine with a letter written by an unknown and un identified author calling out to his loved ones during a treacherous time of war between the British army and the indigenous people of Seringapatam. The writer of the letter demands that his family take a second look at his cousin John Herncastle. A man, the narrator writes, who presumably murdered three monks to steal a rock.  The rock or Monnstone is supposedly cursed and beyond that the concerned family member ads “It is my conviction, or my delusion, no matter which, that crime brings its own fatality with it. I am not only persuaded of Herncastle’s guilt; I am even fanciful enough to believe that he will live to regret it, if he keeps the Diamond; and that others will live to regret taking it from him, if he gives the Diamond away.” (16) The letter is a warning; a document produced just in case the Moonstone finds itself settling into a jewelry box of a close relative.  Collins is warning us that the letter represents a reflection of the attitudes of western culture and they are unacceptable. He lets us see the Diamond as not just a relic or lost stone but an Indian treasure that maintains the ideals of the noble  and honest past.
            John Jarndyce introduces Esther into the “amanuensis” (39) world of Miss. Jellyby, the seriously depressed daughter of a woman so wrapped up in Africa she forgets she’s living in London. Mrs. Jellyby the mother of who knows how many children is a philanthropist with a vision. The house she lives in is a testament to her character. She sees herself fulfilling her duty to society by attempting to maintain and perpetuate the British class system by moving it along to Africa.  Mrs. Jellyby is so obsessed with upholding the appearance of her virtues that she overlooks her obligations to her family. Mrs. Jellyby even admits to devoting all of her energy to the project. She say’s,
The African project at present employs my whole time. It involves me in correspondence with public bodies, and with private individuals anxious for the welfare of their species all over the county… It involves the devotion of all my energies, such as they are, but that is nothing, so that it succeeds, and I am more confident of success every day.(38)
One thing she forgets to mentions through her talk with Miss. Summerson is that she also employs young Miss. Caddy Jellyby to labor over the bureaucracies of the her business. Miss. Jellyby is forced into working to help her mother succeed in her endeavor. Caddy is unhappy with her life helping her mother. She is aware of the degradation her mother’s endeavors are causing their family. Caddy say’s things like “I wish Africa was dead!...I hate it and detest it. It’s a beast!”(44).  She is sick and her mother is the cause. Mrs. Jellyby is toxic and Jaryndyce wants Esther to understand that. Dickens needs his readers to understand the irony presented in Mrs. Jellyby and the state of her affairs at home in comparison to her vision of Africa.
            In between Franklin Blake’s two contributions to The Moonstone we find the truth to what happened in the house the night of Rachel’s eighteenth birthday; a mystery “Extracted from the Journals of Ezra Jennings”, a lonely, half-breed, British-Indian, drug addict, who uses science to reveal the secret. Ezra Jennings presents Mr. Blake with a solution to his dilemma in assuming,
That the influence of the opium - after impelling [Franklin] to possess [himself] of the Diamond, with the purpose of securing its safety – might also impel [him], acting under the same influence and the same motive, to hide it somewhere in [his] own room.(394)
 The possible solution requires that several characters entrust a crazy looking, dark skinned, piebald, doctor and allow him to drug a gentlemen with a powerful and addictive sedative. Betteredge say’s “You have done a wonderful number of foolish things in the course of your life, Mr. Franklin; but this tops them all!”(398) The butler belongs to the old school. He can’t seem to move outside the realm of Robinson Crusoe, maintaining a certain kind of deportment that just doesn’t accept poor, old, dying, ethnic Jennings. No one outside of the two lovers encourages Ezra in his experiment. When Miss Verinder expresses how much he means to her Ezra finds great pleasure and remarks,
She looked at my ugly wrinkled face, with a bright gratitude so near to me in my experience of my fellow-creatures, that I was at a loss how to answer her. Nothing had prepared me for her kindness and her beauty. The misery of many years has not hardened my heart, thank God.(415)
She makes him feel like a teenager again. Jennings participation in the world of Franklin Blake and Rachel Verinder justifies his existence. Ezra finds solace in the fact that his experiment brings the couple together.  Motivated by Rachel’s letter, he writes,
Is it possible (I ask myself, in reading this delightful letter) that I, of all men in the world, am chosen to be the means of bringing these two young people together again? My own happiness has been trampled under foot; my own love has been torn from me. Shall I live to see a happiness of others, which is of my making – a love renewed, which is of my bringing back?(399)
Jennings brings forward a solution to the troubles of colonial nineteenth century England; he incorporates science, and introduces the exotic aspect in a way that the gentry can accept. Collins kills Ezra to leave the audience with his impression of the consequences of receiving the ideal solution to finding out what really happened to the Moonstone.     
            Conquering the world comes at a cost; Dickens and Collins understood the price of conquest and they felt it reflected upon their society negatively. Was the Moonstone worth murdering three monks and devastating a family for? Herncastle’s reasons for attaining it were wrong. So no, it wasn’t worth it. Mrs. Jellyby was an obnoxious old hypocrite that participated in the degradation of her own family. Yet Dickens attributes Caddy with a scenes entitlement that allows her to escape the grips of her mother. Collins allows Ezra to die, but he does it after the reuniting of the lovers.  Both authors believe there are solutions to the problems created by their nations growth. We can see that they felt incorporating progressive beliefs, like science, drugs, secret engagements and multicultural acceptance, into their narratives they could help instigate a change to move forward away from the corruption.    

Works Cited
                        Collins, Wilkie “The Moonstone“. London:Penguin, 1998, Print.
                        Dickens, Charles “Bleak House”. NewYork: Modern Library, 2002, Print.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Iron common!

"I know. You're the shit! this world is full of assholes but man you are the shit" he laughed out loud, "I've got a women next to me that can really change the way I feel though." She looked up at him and made him blush in front of his parents. It was a meekly feeling. 

Thursday, November 17, 2011

hurt right under his heart

I live in a country that is so right we don't even know what it looks like to be wrong. "Did you find that lost one?" the questions are so out of line. " I wish I knew where I was going to go when I finish this test." My voice always broke when I talked, it was like I was alone, but I was in a car, I had the radio on! "I tried and it didn't work!" it happens to sound bad when it looks the way it did when it happened. "I didn't want to say anything. "I just wanted everyone to hear me." but no one listens. She does. "Yeah!" a moment went on before he repeated. "Yeah." This conversation is being held by you, with yourself. "Hey, I'm his super ego." The same pause, eyes rolling, "You're my id!" He was thinking bout her, "she is too young for you." He was right she was, "so? It's not like I'm better, I've been breaking my own heart over and over again. I'm an idiot." He thought about it. "And not even with the ones I choose to love but with the way I run my life, I don't want to be anywhere on time. "I think! And that's  my problem." Time is of my essences and it's my time, not theirs." The thought of one of his professors came into his head, "she's too old!" he didn't even bother to mention that she's married to herself. There is so much work to do. He was burdened, and the stress caused pain. "Yeah one other thing!" It's cause you to need help. You use help but you don't want that. You think you can do it alone, "but I'm actually standing on ......" he didn't want to say it out loud.
"I can only write when I'm kinda hungry!"  his stomach growled, he though about God. "What do you want to ask?" The sound of his imagination hurt right under his heart. "Nothing really!" he said after thinking about what he wanted to know. "I can see the future!"


he lost his wallet!

"Give it back!" it came out as a yell, but he didn't mean it that way.
"Why you yelling at me?" her voice was weak, they were together for over a month, she always felt like he was kinda aggressive, but lately it was getting worse.
"I didn't mean it that way, I wanted you to hear me, I wanted it to just have meant something. I wanted you to understand that all I want is to share my dream. I want everyone to see things the way I ...." Her eyes were already watering, it wasn't what she wanted. He could see she was angry. "But why?" he asked vainly again raising his voice scaring her. "Don't!" he waited to see her flinch, he raised his hand. "Be so nervous." The two of them were together in the train.
She liked to look at his face as they moved forward through the tunnels. The ride was going well, they were lucky to be in an empty car, no one could here their conversation.  She wanted him to be quite. But she knew that he was never going to be. "You're such a boy"
"What?" he thought he could see her face change, he knew she was happy with him, he knew she realized he wasn't going to leave her. They were going to ride this out.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

pack pain

"I'm pretty sure!" they were looking at one another. Her eye's were wide. She did not do drugs he thought. "You're right!" looking up at him, she was smiling.
"So you agree?" he was still standing looming over her. They were in the glass room. Everyone could see them, he felt vulnerable.
She could tell he was unsteady, "I do!" her voice was soft,  "You do too!"
"Yeah!" they both had their heads down, everyone could hear them.
"You were listening today in class, weren't you?" she remember the lecture and the professor standing behind the podium.
"Everyone was listening today" he was looking strait into her eyes. "It was an interesting class." She looked away, "I almost was stupid enough to skip."
"You skip class?" the thought of it repelled her. "You know what she'll do don't you?" They both thought of her.
He remembered the way she answered. He smiled, "she's not that bad" he wasn't going to convince her, but he kept on talking. "She gets us all excited, even though she's so old!" He thought of his wife. "Not very many of us can honestly say that we have any passion."
"I can"
He thought of his mom, "I heard you today!" he backed off of her and pacing the room said "That was one of the first times I had ever heard you participate in the discussion!"
"You're right"
"So you think I speak fast?"

Friday, November 11, 2011

asshole! fucker

I found myself in another world. It was a sweeter place then this. I could see us in a utopia, then I realized there were lots more people here, and every one felt the same way as me but for the wrong reason.  They weakened everything. It was horrible being a part of all this world and not having anyone to see it with. Sure there were my lovers, and yes I brought them with me, but they all had their own agendas too. They wanted to survive, they all thought they wanted to succeed too.  No one really was able to show me what to do, no one had even lived through have the shit I did. Like, o.k there is the soldiers, but they weren't kids; I've never killed anyone, but I'm positive parts of me have, my insides, have been hacked off. I think I might have been the one that cut them off.

I live in another world often, it's crude to realize that everyone I live with on the planet is nothing like me. They don't even know they are in heaven. Assholes, I got stuck in traffic and I was cut off by this hundred year old woman. What upset me so much was actually that the cow almost plowed into me with her seventy thousand dollar town car, and risking my life, I swerved out of her way with my eight hundred dollar Malibu. Life is so good though, cause as I was swerving out of her way, I was listening to my cheap stereo. I adore listening to music in my gas guzzling  American car. I love that I like the same shit ass every one of the people I drive to work with..... I also fucking love getting stuck in traffic with all the rats.
I got these friends, well there is this girls, and she's dangerous, she's hot. We've never talked, I love her, and I'm sure she thinks I'm an asshole. Fuck her, her boyfriend is my best friends neighbor. They live right next to each other, and my buddy, watches them fuck, Asshole. I love em though. I have this girl friend who hates me, but we fuck like animals, then she tells me I'm worthless, even though she's old and fat. I love her cause she's rich though.
I live in the perfect time you know, the world has everything it needs to really put humanity on the map, I think we're gonna use all our technological progress to shove some dynamite up our kids ass's and watch our future bloom, like a firework. My parents, well and most forty year olds fall into the now deficient category. They helped maintain the world so well, they taught their kids to suck anything for enough money. The industrial revolution was a gift that lets us build the internet, the internet was designed to fly the earth up into Gods......

Sunday, November 6, 2011

shit is dark starter in the back cucumber!

It was three oclock, Daylight savings time was kicking in. The leaves had taken their time this year, to fall, the season died gently. It was a radiant autumn, but winter was coming, and we were a few days now into november. It was getting colder and the days were looking like they do right before the day you wake up to see the landscape in front of your house covered in snow. It's always such a shock that first morning. I remember the morning, waking up as a child, in the brisk carpeted space, and running to my mother bed room. My dad was almost always asleep, it made me laugh. I could see the snow the instant I entered their room, it was filled with windows, falling, swirling and smiling at me. It was only so magical the first day. The coldness and the necessity to bundle up bothered me.
Inspector gadget was on along side the careBears... I remember making myself instant porridge, I never liked eating before dawn. This is so fragmented. There is a beginning, it was in the apartment on a hundredth and fifth street and one-o-seven ave. It was different in the past, driving by it now you'd find yourself in a broken community, I guess it was back then too, except back then it wasn't as busted. There was a water park outside, there were slides, I remember my brother telling me "the kids shit on the slide." I was too scared to go look and see, I was only three, so I just hung on to my older counterpart.
I was remembering the times when I was off to Europe to free myself of the western tyranny. This was  in the mid nineties, I was an early teen. I had just smoked pot, and started thinking about sex. It was october 12 or something when we left Canada. Fuck, who the fuck does that. Immigrants, ballsy. I remember owning a portable CD player, I was the only one in, what felt like to me, half the country who could play CD's.  It was a shady day there when we landed,  Polish gray, it was still green though, different then Canada. I was listening to NIN, Trent was opening my mind up past Cobain's guitar hero suicide antics. Guitars were going to be substitutes and things were going to change. The kids there liked me.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

We watched thriller!!!!!!!!!!!!!BOOOO

Actually it's role reversal
-That's what they all said. They were in charge, I had been in the medallion for over seventeen months. Why was I arguing with someone who didn't understand.
Facebook is a new tool in the market place.
-Things like facebook had been paving the internet super high way for a few years now making headway.... but only directing us right back into the abyss. Greed's been prevalent! It's gonna take a couple decades of collapse before... the civilization that's left will have to realize that working for the common good is the best way to work for yourself.
-I really want to make money this year, Dad. I really think that Mrs. Julieper has the right idea. She thinks we should start an advertising agency to help people get more clients.
I wasn't shocked, I wanted to be angry, but only because I see it in almost everyone. Not everyone realizes how privileged they are, my son included. His mother has her fare share of influence. That's fare too.
-Dad? Why is you're new girl friend so fat?
He was honest, he gets it from his grandmother, she's been helping me raise him. I don't question the fact that he is willing to be so open. I Laugh.
-Don't laugh! It's bad. The kids at school talk about it. I don't know what I should do.
His mother would have a field day with this, I don't care. It's like not having a T.V never hurt him, it gave him time to read.
-o.k she's not that fat. Dad mom has a new guy, another new guy.
So. We have to maintain ourselves, forget to tell him, I've made mistakes too. We all have. Some of us just don't want to man up to them.
-I also really like my new teacher and I have a pretty new neighbor, she's brown.
You know, if I actually understood how old this kid was ten years ago, we'd have sailed the see! Fucking thug. He's a sun to in immigrant farmer.
-The sound of our voices makes me sick dad
it was fall and the night s were so hot that the sky smoldered, I was agitated. She is fat, and the sky is so currupted with malice, machines don't care much for change, They just need oil, I work in factory of doors to heaven. The owner
-owner !!! was a drunk !!!!

Sunday, October 30, 2011


Good nature is stupid. Nature is mean, don't let her fool you. Being merry is another story altogether. We all grew up in the forest, it was beautiful. Our adolescence was where they began to take hold of our innocents. They were very influential. We knew they outnumbered us so we just gave in!!! 

Saturday, October 22, 2011

All Good Artists Seem the Same
Through the narrative technics of Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte, we are introduced to Jane and Emma, two nineteenth century God-fearing girls, maturing into ambitious, knowledgeable and productive women of the future. By thrusting strong hearted, risk taking, fierce female characters into the position of the protagonist in their novels, both authors helped push together the lines of inequality between men, women, the rich and the poor. Their intent to develop and reinforce the audience’s sense of class and distinction strengthened their relevance in the world of arts and education then and now.  Embarking on a mission to inform their 19th century patronage of their well read, educated, and informed ideas allowed future contributors to flourish, in turn opening and inspiring minds of generations of readers to come.  While Austen uses courtship and Bronte turns to the imagination, both writers call upon their intended demographic to internalize their fiction and from it grow.
            Whether manufacturing herself useful towards a Harriet, or advertising in the “shire Herald” the heroin of the twentieth century novel in surging with a longing to overcome boredom. Emma lives to play matchmaker, a position that gives the author room to develop a series of interpersonal connections that expand our landscape of her world. Jane Eyre decides to reach out beyond her horizon and risks everything to unravel the mysteries of life inside the mind of Charlotte Bronte. Emma never ceases to amaze with opinions on social etiquette and class, “Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin.” (52.Austen) Her deluded sense of entitlement is seen here doing a good job notifying readers of that naiveté; spoiled little girls try to enrich themselves through a vanity, that can be defined, conceived in much the same manner throughout time.  Miss. Eyre isn’t found in the same aristocratic position as Austen’s hero. Bronte cleverly attributes the growth of her character to her thinking process, which she makes clear in the narrative.
I desired liberty: for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication. For change, stimulus. That petition, too, seemed swept off into vague space. ‘Then,’ I cried, half desperate, ‘grant me at, least a new servitude!’ (102Brontee)
Both characters are young and energetic, alive with the passions of life, a mix of characteristics that are bound to alleviate boredom and expose them to the real world, the one without boarders.
            Influenced by a hierarchical environment both authors were forced to introduce ways in which their protagonist were to actualize themselves in a respectable manner. Austen’s Emma comes from money, she’s had everything she’s ever wanted handed to her on a silver platter, leaving her vulnerable to become full of herself. Fortunately for women of her day there were Mrs. Elton’s. Emma considers manners above other things,
’Insufferable woman!” … “Worse then I had supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightly!—I could not have believed it. Knightley!—never seen him in her life before, and call him knightley!—and discover that he is a gentlemen.(259Austen)
Mr. Elton’s wife paints us a beautiful picture of what it means to have money without class. Emma is inherently aware of how to behave and she is being scrutinized as closely as Mrs. Elton. Austen entrust the reader to realize that what makes a character great is their ability to integrate all the good virtues of humanity without manifesting any degradation to those around them. Jane Eyre is a governess materially owning next to nothing. Using her wit alone she hooks the heart of the Master of Thornfield. Yet Miss. Eyre chooses to peruse a relationship with Rochester even after she hears
’And Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her in an hotel; and gave her a complete establishment of servants, a carriage cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, etc. In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the received style, like any other spoony. (165Bronte)
Jane’s keen sense of her own individuality allows her to look past her boss’s predispositions to do evil, and still relate to the Noble man he is inside. Acting above the status quo is the matter in which the female protagonists raise themselves above the pre-conceived notions of their society. Allowing the reader glimpses of a bird’s eye view of the true character of the hero.
            A portrait of truth that accurately defines the nineteenth century world can be directly associated within the narrative landscape of Jane Eyre and the vocalized opinions of Emma. Austen is as relevant today as she was a hundred years ago because she was very capable of depicting the irony between reality and the way we think we know it. Austen cunningly allows us into the mind of Emma.
Mr. Knightley and Harriet!- It was an odd tete-a-tete; but she was glad to see it.—There had been a time when he would have scorned her as a companion, and turned from her with little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant conversation. There had been a time also when Emma would have been sorry to see Harriet in a spot so favorable for the Abbey-Mill Farm; but now she feared it not. (338Austen)
Harriet is nowhere neared to a favorable spot at the Farm then Robert Martin, but in Emma’s mind they’re going to be married almost within weeks. Of course she ends up Mrs. Knightley, and Harriet Mrs. Martin. On the other hand Bronte remains so powerful to a modern audience because she insisted on exposing her nineteenth century readership to the will of Jane Eyre,
But, then, a voice within me averred that I could do it, and foretold that I should do it. I wrestled with my own resolution: I wanted to be weak that I might avoid the awful passage of further suffering I saw laid out for me; and Conscience, turned tyrant, held Passion by the throat, told her tauntingly, she had yet but dipped her dainty foot in the slough, and swore that with that arm of iron he would thrust her down to unsounded depths of agony. (343Bronte)
She leaves Thornfield that night! Here drastic leap of faith proves to pay off of course. It’s as inspiring now as it would have been a couple hundred years ago. A still found to be totally an uncommon act, to have faith in one’s inner voice, and it works. Both authors establish a firm foundation of how the human mind makes its way into salvation. Through trial and error Jane and Emma produce outcomes to their lives that we can still all relate to in the 21st century.
            Looking back at Jane Eyre, we get inspired to peruse our passions, and while scrutinizing the adolescent thought process of Emma we find that we are often no better at judging where we stand then a girl raised in the 19th century British aristocracy. We all do it though, move forward in time, realizing the reasons things happen around us through experience.  Female authors like Austen and Bronte defined class through individual’s, and their abilities to grow with distinction, and separate the truth from fiction. Their perseverance and drive to create content within their own individualized form separates them form the rest. Then they stood out pushing their context into modern classrooms. We are still learning about courtship and we still honor our imaginations without really understanding either. Jane Eyre and Emma allow us to experience their growth. Push us to understand our tendencies to make rash decisions, naturally, and hopefully in a way that makes us happy in the end.

Work Cited

Austen, Jane "Emma". London:Penguin Classics, 1996. Print.

Bronte, Charlotte “Jane Eyre”. London:Penuine Classics, 1996. Print.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Just to chill!

I've been really hard done by, she broke me. I was fixed on seeing myself as her equal, but then we crashed. I had no idea she was in it to gain such big steps in life. We were working on this project together. I couldn't help but look at her feet. She was all over the place. We were a good match, at least I thought... at first.
"Where you going?" the questions started the moment we needed to leave. I was having high anxiety issues. People were starting to stare.
"Why don't we just stay here then honey?" He was never happy to see me act this way, especially in front of others."You know you can't stay here alone don't you?" He knew I was afraid to be alone, the sun was going down and the traffic lights were beginning to to hover over head with ambiance. "We're on the street." I looked around, helpless. He started to walk away.
"Where you going?" my voice echoing, the others clearing out, harassed by our shrill. The cool autumn air tightened our backs, he shivered. "Why can't we just stay here, it's not that cold yet." I didn't want to leave, mom and dad had been fighting again. He was cold. He wanted to watch T.V, we'd been watching it for a long time, I wanted things to change, he wanted them to stay the same. We had to leave. "I don't want to go!" He got on his bike and rode away. The sun was following him along the horizon, I was watching him gain momentum as his shadow fell forwarded. It made me laugh. Eventually I couldn't see him anymore.
Traffic kept up for the first little bit, the lights cooled me, their thought. I was waiting for someone to find me. "What are you doing here?" He asked me so quietly, he had a deep voice. He was wearing a thick coat. A white jacket.
"Waiting!" I surprised him. He jumped, he thought I was going to be scared but I figured my parents were right behind him. "How long you been here little one?" more questions I thought.
"I didn't want to go home! I've decided that I didn't want to watch anymore T.V like my brother." I remembered my brothers silhouette forcing it's self forward through the dusk. "He didn't want to go home, but he went back anyway" it came out as a laugh. He laughed too.
"They almost always go back when they don't want to." The wind picked up forcing his voice forward. I was sitting silently, watching the moon fancy herself finding herself on the incline. He watched me smile over the rising. The traffic made noise's. "I find the sound of the sirens soothing, like a calling out to me." An ambulance slowly blew in singing, the distance distorting it, it made us both laugh, we couldn't even see it hurling itself to some fate we couldn't fathom. "He's a goner!"
"You think?" My questing stunned him. He was alert, we were alone, I wasn't scarred of anything. He knew that, the creases over his brow bent sorrow over his eyes, the bright yellow leaves were the last flickers of highlight over shadowed by the night.
"The sun's gone! What we gonna do?" He was so soulful, young too.
"We're not here to play hopscotch!" I was right.
"How we gonna do this?" I could see he didn't know what we were suppose to do. His thick jacket was keeping him warm though, I was getting cold.
"Come closer!" The sense I got from it was welcoming but I hesitated, and he saw that.
"But you're cold!" we laughed, and I fell into his arms. The clouds sought significance form us. And my heart was still, we sat almost laying there until the morning fell. My brother came back with a bat.

Friday, October 7, 2011

He said she said!

Christopher Sly, a nomadic, audacious and intentional fellow found in a stat of unconsciousness, lying almost dead in the ditch outside of Marian Hacket's Wincote Tavern, only to be foreseen by Shakespeare to be pronounced as a tool of intervention between the rivaling classes of his day and age. Sly being subject to a vanquished social rank is given an opportunity to take a second look at himself through the eyes of our thoughtful yet roguish author. Through the viewing of The Taming of the Shrew Christopher Sly is meant to come to find his higher calling, much like Katharina finds herself the unselfish obliging wife. The story line is created to questions ones position in society and life, to take risks, harness the indecision's set forth and to take hold of the reigns that give us access to that luster and to shine like the gentry.  William Shakespeare settled in his ways of gentle persuasions leaves us wondering if it was all so unintentional.
Alone, a body lies carelessly thrown, lost and forgotten by the side of the Milcote road, only to be stumbled upon by the local aristocracy and given the right to be played a joke on by the jovial Nobility. This jest in practice takes our unfortunate hero out of misfortune and places him directly in the heart of pure wealth.  In giving the drunkard access to his Royal pleasures, his Honor, the Lord, must abandon the appearance of his social rank to help maintain the suspension of belief amongst his serfs. This unique vantage point lets the Lord maintain his position as an observer and jester. It also allows him close access to Sly, the Lord often enlisting himself to reflecting openly Sly’s true (false) calling. “Heaven cease this idle humor in Your Honor! Oh, that mighty man of such descent, of such possessions and so high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit!” (Induction.2.13.18).  Allowing Christopher such a sly perspective point to reflect upon the play also gives him the opportunity to whiteness himself through the eyes of a member of the gentry.
While watching The Taming of the Shrew the audience can’t help but realize they are watching a play within a play, adding a heightened point of view of the event as a whole. It starts with Sly, but it ends with Katharina sharing her gained insight into womanhood. Her shrewish behaviors and feelings of resentment have changed and she wants to convince the other women to “Unknit that threatening, unkind brow And dart not scornful glances,” ( Observing this scene would be Sly himself and the audience beyond that would be observing Sly. Shakespeare framed the plot around an open-ended illusion, gently nudging the gentry to uphold their position as keepers of people, by indoctrinating Katharina as being the voice of Gentile reason. Upon her final speech Katharina communicates the theme of the whole Meta story
for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labor both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
 And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience—
Too little payment for so great a dept.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, (
Katharina’s final speech encompasses the entirety of Shakespeare’s project, her voice being the evocation of the Lord’s though to playing the jest on the drunkard.
            By creating “The Taming of the Shrew” in such an open-ended format the author crucifies anyone watching, from Sly to the actual audience. We the reader are subjected into believing that if Katharina can recreate her reality to cater to her true calling more appropriately, so can you, so can I, and in addition Shakespeare’s positioning of Sly in the beginning of the play is because he needs to use him as the antagonistic “good guy”. The author leaves himself vulnerable to his own devices as well, by making way to the possibilities that a bum can uphold himself in respect to the aristocratic tendencies.  To protect himself from possible outbursts of outrage from the audience, Shakespeare leaves the inductions open to discussion. He couldn’t have Sly leave the theater a merry old honorable Lord. The Gentry and the Aristocrats would go mad, he couldn’t have the beggar go through such a dynamic change only to go back a bum, because the bourgeois and trades people would not leave the theater conscious in the manner the author intended. Shakespeare’s intent was to have the audience become a participant in the suspension of belief. Shakespeare wasn’t thinking about just anyone, but everyone.   He wanted to infatuate his audience with the possibility of more, more for the homeless and weak, more for the rich and powerful. His plan was to afford the participants in the act of realizing the drama in their lives to overcome transparent obstacles and be the best they can be. This places each individual in a position where they must martyr themselves, much like Katharina does when she say’s “that seeming to be most which we indeed least are. Then veil your stomach, for it is no boot, And place your hands below your husband’s foot, in token of which duty, if he please, My hand is ready; may it do ease.” ( Her unorthodox approach to her new husband shocks everyone into believing they’re little charade, making it real, as well as winning Petruchio the bet. Shakespeare bet on the fact that the aristocracy wouldn’t realize he was sacrificing the bed of the Honored Lord to cater to the commoners.
After reading through The Tamming of the Shrew we find the author an intentionally sly audacious fellow. Shakespeare risking his reputation by thrusting a “mounstrous beast”(Induction.1.33.) into the life of a noble man does the world as a whole, justice. By focusing on the peoples he finds within his own community the author remains authentic to his beliefs. These beliefs revolved around the opportunity for equality and the chance to change. Sly as he may be Shakespeare was always found to be honest enough in his work, to reflect his understanding accurately. He believed in equality, and he produced it within his dramatic fiction.

Works cited.
Shakespeare, William. The Taming of the Shrew. The Necessary Shakespeare third Edition. David Bevington. Chicago: 2009.

Monday, October 3, 2011

God Of phuauk!

I had this idea that my dreams could come true.  That I could bring my will into material existence. That I could have the vision of the world I hold in my mind come into my life on the outside, into existence in this reality. The first thing I did while in pursuit of my dreams was get a girl pregnant. That grounded me, told me that my dreams weren't going to be achieved without consequence. The consequences of fulfilling what my mind desired were important steps toward understanding what it was I myself desired to accomplish during my existence in my body.
At that point I understood that I wanted to be a good father, that understanding overcame my desire to worship the God of Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll. I started making choices that would ensure my dreams of being a good father came true. I did everything in my power to create an environment that would welcome my son into this world in a positive way.  My dreams didn't have anything to do with the regular 9-5 job though. To have my environment running the way I wanted it to, I needed to make sure I felt good and positive about myself. I wanted my son to know that I was happy doing what I was doing. I didn't want my boy watching his father going out into the world doing dead end things he hated. So I went back to where I loved to be, I went back into the church of Sex Drugs and Sin and started pushing hack.  I was amazed at how I felt right on track driving people who were under the influence of sin and sex, drugs and alcohol home. The success I felt after every night I came back to my family happy to have done a job I loved made me feel like a King. That feeling also made me want to share my success with others.
I was working full time, but it never felt like it. It felt like I was making money doing what I loved. Sharing and communicating my dreams with people who paid me. I needed more, I needed  people to know how I felt, so I started to go online and write about my nights behind the wheel of an Edmonton taxi. The blog was such a success for me, in gratifying my minds existence. After I started writing it I no longer went to work for money, but to find content for my next great story. I published one every night for the next two years.
Going to work to write a blog that no one paid to see paid off. I learned how to make something from nothing, I learned that money is a by product of dreams, I learned that I was here to tell stories and live life to the fullest. Then the recession hit and I found that the circumstances around my success where forcing me to change, and I did. I needed to stay happy to be the best father I could be. So I went back to school.  I also used my student loans to buy a camera, I took a material risk, it was like having the baby, it paid off. The consequences of choosing to follow your dreams, to claim that you can be whatever you want to be are rough, but they also ground you, and inform you that there is hope, and that it's hard. But if you think about it, if you know it's hard, then you'll know that those seemingly scary obstacles along the way are actually road signs that tell you where to turn next.
Now I'm going to school, I used my time at school to learn to take photographs. I did it by catering to the institution itself. I came to Concordia because I felt I could talk about subjects outside of this reality. I felt I could talk about my dreams and where they come from. This has been making me happy. Happy because with every decision I make to move toward my goals I bring them closer to materializing. I know that it's not necessarily ever going to be exactly what I envisioned but that's because those dreams keep getting bigger and better, and I know all I have to do is pursue my ideas and that's how I'll bring my dreams into light.