Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Closing

Just a few final words from Walt Whitman to remind us that we have recovered some of what we lost, and that what we learn here will some day be "going somewhere" as well...

My science-friend, my noblest woman-friend,
(Now buried in an English grave--and this a memory-leaf for her dear sake,)
Ended our talk--
"The sum, concluding all we know of old or modern
learning, intuitions deep,
"Of all Geologies--Histories--of all Astronomy--of Evolution,
Metaphysics all,
"Is, that we all are onward, onward, speeding slowly, surely bettering,
"Life, life an endless march, an endless army, (no halt, but it is
duly over,)
"The world, the race, the soul--in space and time the universes,"
All bound as is befitting each--all surely going somewhere."

American Pie - In Lieu of my Group Presentation

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

But february made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

So bye-bye, miss american pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you’re in love with him`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.

I started singin’,"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me,

Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And while Lennon read a book on Marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.

We were singing,"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."
this’ll be the day that I die."

Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

We started singing,"bye-bye, miss american pie.
"Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."
this’ll be the day that I die."

Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

He was singing,"bye-bye, miss american pie.
"Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.
And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.

And they were singing,"bye-bye, miss american pie.
"Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."
this’ll be the day that I die.

"They were singing,"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."


These are, of course, lyrics to the American rock classic "American Pie." I am aware that this seems an odd thing to post, but allow me to eplain my rationale.
At first glane, this song is to me about loss of innocence and the ending of an era. Now obviously it was written for the time Don Maclean lived in, but I figured that this kind of loss belonged in any era to any one who felt it, whether it was Demeter mourning the loss of her daughter or Creon facing a future without the next generation of his family caused by his own flaws and the events that resulted thereof. There is a tone of grief and nostalgia in this song, two things I at times felt during the course of this class. I am not sure from whence it came, after all I don't recall those times nor have I any memories of some of their cirsumstances. Perhaps I really have been slightly awakened from my anamnesis.
This next part makes me rather nervous to write, for it may sound slightly odd. I have heard this song many, many times, but my most recent experience with it brought an entirely new vision to my mind. As I listened to this song I could picture in my mind many of the different people and situations we have studied this semester living out this song. I could see Hermes as the jester singing for the king and queen in "the coat he borrowed from James Dean" (AKA Bacchus), Persephone as the girl who sang the blues and then turned away when asked to be happy, Antigone, Haemon, and Ismene as the "generation lost in space/with no time left to start again," Socrates, Eryximachus and the others as the good old boys meeting and drinking whisky and rye (Or wine and olives, if you please) int heir symposium, and thorughout the entire song I encountered the feeling of all of these beings knowing their times were coming to a close and they would soon be forgotten. I know this seems like such an odd thing to say, but it seemed to wrap together the high points from this semester into one package. I felt that each of these people, and there were many, were awakening me to their stories once again through the lyrics of this song. The connections are not obvious, but the fact that they are so obscure gives me more faith in the truth of it and in my own connection to them.

Monday, April 23, 2007

We Are All Asses

So this won't be a very dignified post, or even very worthwhile for that matter, but I had to comment...
Dr. Sexson's comment made me think of this computer prank I was emailed one time, since I can't find it I will hacve to just describe it. You are sent am email thinking it will be a neat optical illiusion, told to get as close to the screen as possible and stare...and keep staring...and keep staring...until the screen suddenly changes and you are face to face with a huge donkey head staring you right in the eye and a caption that sas "Get back to work you ass!!" Speaking of which, that's what I should be doing right now...

So yeah, totally pointless, but couldn't help myself :)

Friday, April 20, 2007

Love and the Soul

Now I have seen the names 'psyche' and 'eros' both translated in two different ways. Psyche I have heard as either "mind" or "soul," and Eros as either "love" or "desire" (or lust). When I put these together I found something interesting. The philisophical value I took from this story was that 'love' and the 'soul' cannot exist without one another, they need one another to complete and whole and by the same turn, 'lust' and the 'mind' go together as well. So love is born of spirit, the soul finding it's severed half as Plato said; and lust is of the brain, simply the mind working on it's baser instincts. This, in an odd way, gives me reassurance in the nature of love. In a world of visual cues and heavy sexuality, we are given a reminder that real love truly is born of the soul, even if it is erotic.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Cupid and Psyche, Beauty and the Beast?

Reading the tale of Cupid and Psyche, I was surprised to be reminded of stories from my childhood. Cupid's waking of the sleeping psyche, placed under a spell of eternal sleep reminded me of two other very familiar characters who paid a price when curiousity got the best of them:








(On a side note, when I think of the apple given to Snow White by her stepmother in disguise, I can't help but think of the καλλίστ apple thrown by Eris that caused the Trojan war.)



And even before this in the story, I was reminded of the story of Beauty and the Beast. Like Belle, Psyche has been trapped in a beautiful home by a master whose face she cannot see (whether literally or figuratively depends on the version of the Fairy Tale) and whom she believes may be a terrible monster, a theory implanted largely by her jealous sisters. When she does finally see him, however, and realizes that he is not the monster she thought he was, she returns his love and begs him to return. I certainly like this version of the story much better than Disney's!




Friday, April 13, 2007

Cupid and Psyche

It was a tough decision, but I think that this has to be my favorite depiction of the two:



I simply cannot get past their beautiful expressions. Eros' determination to keep this woman as his bride is so fierce it seems almost tangible, and Psyche's dreamy expression of content and happiness counterbalances his perfectly. Beautiful, simply beautiful.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Galatea

I know many, many people from class have commented on Pygmalion and Galatea already, but I found an interesting reference to the story in a place I never thougt I would. In the Robin Williams movie Bicentennial man, based on a novella by Isaac Asimov, a robot struggles to become a man and learn what the 'human condition' is and what it means to experience it.



In the movie he meets his female counterpart (on the right), another robot who is like him in many ways:






Including his desire to become human. The name of this statue that became a woman?

Galatea, of course :)