In order to keep myself from going completely insane, I have decided to once more live-blog another one of my assignments. You may remember that I did this last year for another class, as well. This one is my large final project for my Surrealism in Poetry class.
I've talked about this a bit before, but I requested from our instructor (also my thesis director) that I be allowed to exercise the "creative option" for the final project instead of a simple paper, as was originally offered to us upon registration for this course last spring. To make a long and involved story about this as short as possible (as this post will be long enough as-is), I discussed this with my instructor after class last week on the 14th, and followed it up with a detailed proposal of not one, but two different types of creative project I could do for this Surrealism class, and I have copied them both below:
Idea 1:
Taking some of my own works, specifically the more straightforward or prose-like pieces, and "surrealizing" them via various means. This
would detail setting up each page of the project in a two-column
format, with the original poem on one side and the modified version on the other. I would employ various techniques with them, including
automatic writing, "first thought, best thought," and the S+7
technique (or variations thereof). This would not only be beneficial
to my writing as a whole, but would serve the dual purpose of allowing
me to radically revise some of the poetry that may end up in my
thesis, making those poems stronger. After each modification, I would
also provide about a page of explanation and/or details of my process
for each one, including anything that had been revised before, during,
or after the surrealization. These poems would be drastically changed
from the originals -- sometimes, especially with the automatic writing
ones, I'd simply take the overall theme of one of the poems and redo
it from the ground up, for example. Ideally, I'd like to do this for
around 8-10 of my own poems (of varying lengths), and as a bonus would like to do it for a few poets I've been reading as of late as well
(people like David St. John or Sharon Olds, perhaps, or maybe with
some of the poets we've read in the class -- Lorca and WCW spring to mind), with the same sort of explanations as well. I'd also be
open to not using any of my own poetry at all, if you'd prefer, and
doing these surrealization exercises exclusively with poets I've been
reading or poets who we've covered in class. The total length of this
project would probably be around 15 pages, which yes, is more work,
but it's work which I feel would be more interesting and fulfilling
than a 5-8 page research paper on one or two poets' styles or works,
regardless of which route you would allow me to take on a project such as this.
Idea 2:
I produce a "Howl"-like poem from scratch, utilizing the techniques
that Ginsberg used in his own writing -- this includes multiple full
drafts, edits, and explanations of each draft, not only with my own
handwritten notes and revisions but revised pages in-between, similar
to the multiple versions of "Howl" we read in class this semester. I
would be, in essence, diving into Ginsberg's style and trying to get
into his headspace, and producing a poem of about the same length and with the same qualities of his works. I would not, however, be
attempting to emulate his style; I would instead be focusing more on
the craft of the poem itself, and detailing the step-by-step process
of its creation, revision, rewording, and my stylistic choices along
the way. I'd produce no less than three drafts, which (with
explanations and hand-edited pages) would create a project of about
10-15 pages -- similar length to the one above.
Why, you may ask, was I willing to do this much work? That is a complex question to answer. At Flat State University, we don't have a "craft" class (though two have been created now, and are going to be added to the schedule next fall, after I graduate). My education when it comes to writing has been largely limited to workshop experiences and lit courses in one form or another -- this Surrealism course, a 500-level course, has the reading workload of an 800-level course, and with a few notable exceptions, most of what we're covering in it is the standard lit fare of dead white men (or, conversely, nearly-dead white men). We've read less than five women the entire semester, and of the entire course's vast extensive curriculum, maybe ten (total!) of the authors we've read have been anything other than white or male. This doesn't necessarily bother me; I'm used to lit courses. But this was the last lit course I had to take during my tenure at Flat State University, and I signed up for it not only at my advisor's insistence, but because in the Spring upon registration week, we were told by our professor that, especially for the MFAs in the class, he would be open to a "creative option" for the final project instead of a final paper. Instead of. This is important, so keep this in mind. I have the email he sent all of us about it; I printed it out at work. Anyway, because that option was offered, I signed up for the class. I could've chosen any of the lit classes available, either for this semester or next semester, to fulfill my last lit requirement. I chose this one specifically for that option.
When the class started (four months after registration, mind you), a few weeks into it we were told that the final assignment would be a 5-8 page research argument paper -- no ifs, ands, or buts. I brought up the creative option that night in class as a subtle reminder of what he'd told us, and was firmly shot down.
This, of course, I did not appreciate.
The class was sold to us, us MFAs specifically, as a lit course that was almost an alternative to a lit course, a lecture-based course with creative components, which is generally something along the lines of the "craft course" I mentioned before -- lighthearted discussion and analysis with an opportunity to further/better our own work -- basically, a workshop course with more reading and a little less of the "workshop environment." To see that we were basically lied to, that the course had been turned into a hardcore lit survey course with a reading load was more comparable to an 800-level special topics course (instead of the simple 500-level "Studies in Poetry" course that it was designed to be) was incredibly disheartening.
So I began searching for the email he'd sent us in the spring. We had it in writing that a creative option for the final project would be offered as an alternative to the paper, and were encouraged to register for the class because of that. Through lots of finagling, I finally got that email, and printed it out. I was right -- there it was, clear as day. I highlighted that section in case I needed to use it later.
Don't think I don't plan ahead for everything, folks.
After class on the 14th, I talked to him about this "creative option" for the final project. This time, he seemed cautiously open to it, which led to me giving a brief rundown of what I'd like to do (most of option 1, above) and telling him I'd shoot him an email of a full proposal for it. He agreed, so that's what I did after Daisy went home on Sunday -- I typed out a long email detailing those two different proposals above. I also gave him an "out," so to speak, by saying that if he did not like either idea and/or would prefer that I just do the standard 5-8 page paper, I would do so -- it was up to him. And I waited.
As for giving him the "out," the man is also my thesis director; I'm not going to proverbially back him into a corner over anything, especially not when I need him to keep cooperating with me in order to graduate in five months. Those proposals were basically a way of me saying not only "hey, keep your word" but "hey, I'm willing to do way more work for you, for this class, if it helps better my writing as a whole." Being an overachiever has its perks.
He emailed me back shortly before I left for campus on Monday afternoon and asked if I could meet with him about it on Tuesday at 4PM. I told him I couldn't, sadly, that I would be out of town for the week and had canceled my classes on Tuesday. All of this is true, by the way -- I canceled classes for Tuesday by the end of August, and told all of my students even then that there's no way we'd be in class on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. It's pointless; WVU, when I was an undergrad there, gave its students the entire week off for Thanksgiving. Flat State University gives them three days (Wed/Thu/Fri) and makes up for it earlier in the semester with "Fall Break." I'd rather just have the whole week off at once.
But I digress.
I told him that I wouldn't be in on Tuesday, but also told him that I would be on campus that afternoon (I emailed him back, in a reply, less than 20 minutes after he sent the first email) until 4PM, and I had my Playwriting class after that, but until then I would be more than happy to meet with him. That gave him a window of about three hours that he could be there to meet with me and talk about the project. He doesn't live far from campus; I've been to the man's house, ironically enough. And he was obviously available if he'd emailed me 20 minutes before. But I went to campus and 4PM came and went, with no replies and him not coming to meet me. Oh well.
As a further aside, it's not like my project proposal required a meeting at all -- I was asking a three-pronged, easy-to-answer question: Should I do option 1, option 2, or just write a paper? This does not require a discussion; it required a one-line response so that I could get to work, which is what I told him -- I wanted to get this project done over the break if at all possible so that I had time during the rest of the semester to work on my other responsibilities, namely as an instructor myself.
So, after I got home on Monday night, my break "started," of sorts. Tuesday at 4PM, when I was supposed to meet with him, came and went with no reply to my email. I considered calling him, as I do have his number and he has mine, but I considered that to be going out of my way even more than I already had. Finally, at around 11PM Tuesday night, I got a reply. I won't quote from it; but I'll paraphrase. He told me that the short answer to my proposal was that any creative project would still have to be accompanied by a 3-5 page, "informal academic" paper, but that he liked option one quite a bit.
I read the email over and over. So, basically, instead of doing a final paper for this class that's 5-8 pages, I thought, my project will still have to include a 3-5 page paper anyhow?
Correct me if I'm wrong, but the entire point of doing a creative project in the first place was in order to replace any paper I would have to write for the class. That was not only what my proposal was, but what he himself told us in the spring upon enrollment into the course. While his compromise (of sorts) with me was a shorter paper attached to the project, the fact that he was trying to include a paper at all sort of negated the entire point of a creative project in the first place. If he wanted me to do a simple paper instead, of course, he knew I was open to that -- these were just proposals; I would've happily written a shorter paper and gone on with my life.
I mulled this over for a bit, and at a friend's advice, decided to sleep on it before I replied or started any work. On Wednesday morning, I emailed him back and said that was fine, that I would do option 1 with a paper attached, and asked him if there was anyone (or any of my poems in particular) that he would like me to focus on a little more deeply for it. It is now Friday afternoon as I write this, the project is done, and he's still never replied. After I told him my plan in that email, however, I started the project on Wednesday afternoon. What follows is the step-by-step live-blogging of the project from inception to completion. I hope you enjoy.
2:04 PM Wednesday: I tell Daisy goodbye after talking to her for a while, and begin writing in earnest on my project. I give it the title of "Surreal Incorporation and Metamorphosis: Utilizing Surrealist Techniques and Ideology to Transform and Reinterpret Poetic Voice." I'm good with titles. It sounds a hell of a lot more intelligent than it will probably end up being.
4:21 PM: I have completed the first page of writing, covering Breton's concepts of surrealism and bringing in one other author who wrote on Breton and Surrealism to back up those points. I take a break and shower.
5:12 PM: I resume working. I also bring in an interview with Allen Ginsberg on his "first thought, best thought" style of writing, and tie it in with Surrealists' automatic writing, before moving onward.
6:53 PM: With five sources and at the bottom of page two, I take a break to make a bowl of cereal and some peanut butter waffles for dinner -- with intentions to cook something more substantial later. I begin to inwardly weep as I read friends' status updates about making turkeys and stuffing and spending time with their families as Thanksgiving approaches. Nope, not in this house. Grad school attacks! It's super-effective!
7:12 PM: I resume working once more, shutting off Pandora and Facebook because both are too distracting. I set the goal of getting the "essay" section done by 9PM.
7:14 PM: I contemplate suicide for the first time during the writing of this paper. I'm surprised that it took me this long.
7:18 PM: A reference to W.S. Merwin and the "deep image," as well as the "dream state," enters the paper. I tie it back into Breton talking about the unconscious, and keep moving forward.
7:26 PM: Oy. Maybe I'll get the essay section of this project done by 9PM. I will again remind you that the entire point of doing an alternative, creative-based project was to avoid writing an essay or paper altogether -- not to include a shorter version of one within the project itself.
7:44 PM: Bottom of page three. Two more citations added, one for Larry Levis's "Sensationalism" and another for the S+7, or "Oulipo" exercise. I am wrapping up the academic section of the paper and am getting ready to move on into my explanation of what I plan to do.
7:53 PM: I realize that I will have to come back to this original essay section and revise it rather heavily after the project is done.
7:58 PM: Fuck, I'm tired. I so don't want to be working on this damned thing anymore. The essay component itself has sucked out any optimism and goodwill I had towards the project and my idea for it. I begin double-fisting coffee and cigarettes in an attempt to reinvigorate myself.
8:09 PM: I post the WKRP Thanksgiving video to Facebook. No matter how many times I watch it, I still laugh my ass off.
8:19 PM: GOOD GOD SHOOT ME I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE
8:32 PM: I plug my iPod into the speaker system in my room, and put it on "shuffle." Iron Maiden starts playing. I am suddenly re-energized for four minutes. AAAAAAAACES HIIIIIIIGH
9:31 PM: Having finished the essay portion of the paper for the moment (which, again, I will return to later), I have now completed the first poem transformation of the actual project -- a modified S+7 version of my own poem "floor." Jackyl's "The Lumberjack Song" comes on my iPod. I pause to rock out before continuing.
9:50 PM: At over six pages, four of that being the introductory/explanatory essay, I have now surpassed the 5-8 minimum page requirement for the assignment. I'm not even halfway done. I'm maybe 25% done, at the most, and that includes the essay section. Grateful Dead's "Hell in a Bucket" comes on my iPod. The song feels strangely accurate at this point.
10:04 PM: Lightning strikes the clock tower, sending the required 1.21 Jiggawatts of electricity directly into the flux capaci....wait, that's not going to fit into this paper...DELETE! DELETE!
10:14 PM: I go downstairs after messaging Daisy a few times, in order to fold up the load of laundry I put in the dryer earlier during my dinner break. I need to step away from the computer for a few minutes and breathe, to reformulate my thoughts. Even though I'm in the creative stages of the project now, too much focus will burn me out.
10:32 PM: I return to my room. My iPod is playing Led Zeppelin's "D'yer Mak'er," and Daisy, after reading my live-blog of last year's paper on Mrs Dalloway, has called me "cray cray." I put on a flannel bathrobe and pajama pants, as it has gotten colder over the past few hours. I begin the second poem transformation.
10:44 PM: I tell my friend Parker that I am live-blogging the process of creating this project. He immediately becomes incredibly excited to read it once it's posted, as he is in the class with me as well.
11PM: I have finished the second poem's metamorphosis, changing my poem "Midwestern Paradise" into a wholly different animal via various electronic translations through eight different languages and back.
11:15 PM: I have now been working on this project for over nine hours, counting the breaks I've taken as well. I pause for a moment so that I can hit the bathroom and make more coffee.
11:31 PM: I have completely finished the second poem's section, including the explanations of my edits and discussion of the various translations, and move on to poem three. I estimate that at this point, I am about 35% done with the project. I am on page seven.
11:56 PM: I have finished the third poem's section -- it is an automatic writing exercise of my poem "Vacation." I took the title, and with the title in mind only, began writing, only keeping the same number of lines and same number of stanzas. Four minutes later, I had a completely new poem with an entirely new theme and tone, a poem that...surprisingly, I was incredibly proud of. I immediately showed it to Daisy and Parker. Daisy said that it reminded her of a disoriented person. Success! THAT is surrealism, folks!
12:09 AM Thursday: Daisy goes to bed for the night.
12:12 AM: Now after midnight, I move on to my fourth poem section. I now estimate that I am close to halfway done with the project. Happy Thanksgiving. I'm sitting here in a bathrobe writing about Breton, because my instructor has a hard-on for him. Heeey...."Hard-on for Breton" would be a great title for this project. Nahhh, too easy.
12:34 AM: I smoke my last cigarette of the pack I opened upon starting this project, and open another pack. There's a full pot of coffee in front of me, and, to borrow a Robert Frost-ism, miles to go before I sleep. ZZ Top comes on my iPod. I rock out.
12:59 AM: Halfway through the fourth of five poems of mine that I'm going to present within the project, and I'm beginning to get tired. I swear to myself that I will at least get a full draft of this project done tonight before bed, and begin drinking coffee more quickly. My stomach starts rolling. Sigh.
1:01 AM: I promise myself that if I can finish a full draft in the next two hours or so, I'll be able to play a game of Star Wars: Galactic Battlegrounds Clone Campaigns before bed. Suddenly my motivation increases, and I dive back into my work. It is at this point that I have officially given up on being awake before noon tomorrow, which means I will miss the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Oh well.
1:27 AM: I am on a roll. I am creating, via surrealist techniques, three different versions of the same poem. Something has clicked inside my mind, and I have somehow finally gotten into some sort of creative groove that I didn't know was inside me. The work I'm producing is good. My interpretations of surrealism feel stellar, they feel like I'm doing something productive with my time. I drink more hot, strong coffee, and continue.
1:53 AM: I breach page ten.
2:04 AM: I have officially been working on the project for twelve hours. I stop for a moment to assess my progress. I have two more poems to "surrealize" and expand upon, neither of which are my own. I estimate that the project draft, at this point, is about 70% done.
2:11 AM: I realize, finally, that the reason my stomach is feeling weird is because I never did go cook a proper dinner as I had planned; I haven't put anything on my stomach but coffee since shortly before 7PM. Being deep in "the zone" means that I can't stop now; I fetch some rice cakes from the kitchen pantry and slowly munch on them one by one as I continue my work. I am still wanting to have a finished draft of the project done by around 3AM or so. The phrase oy vey, the things I do for my education wanders through my brain.
2:20 AM: Spinal Tap's "Break Like the Wind" comes on my iPod. I almost choke on my rice cake while rocking out to it. Oh well.
2:31 AM: My cigarette lighter stops working. Fuck. I switch over to matches.
3:39 AM: There's no way I'm finishing a full draft of this project tonight. I make the decision to finish the poem I'm working on surrealizing, David St. John's "Peach Fires," and call it a night, just going to bed.
***intermission***
2:13 PM: After nine hours of sleep, I come upstairs, go through my wake-up routine for a bit, read a slew of "Happy Thanksgiving" messages from friends (but no family, interesting enough) and begin work once more on the project. At this point, I re-estimate it to be about 65% complete.
2:21 PM: I finish the David St. John section and move on to the last poem I will work on for the project, Pablo Neruda's "Walking Around."
2:32 PM: After sending a few messages back and forth with Daisy, I turn off Facebook. It's too distracting, and I can't get anything done with it on. For background noise, I once more boot up the iPod -- if I turn on football, I will become even more distracted.
2:38 PM: Hootie and the Blowfish comes on my iPod. Why, for fuck's sake, do I have Hootie and the Blowfish on my iPod?
2:54 PM: I go back into the St. John poem again, because working on it is endlessly fascinating, and produce another version without adjectives or adverbs. The poem is now completely changed -- and more surreal -- from its original version.
3:11 PM: Our Lady Peace's "Superman's Dead" comes on my iPod. I rock out to it as I drink more coffee and finish the St. John section for good.
3:27 PM: My final section of the project, on Neruda's "Walking Around," is going to be much larger than I originally thought it would be. I am on page 14 now, before I go back and add more to the essay component of the project to finish it up, and with comparisons between the different versions and translations of the Neruda poem -- as well as the exercises I will do with it myself -- I expect this project to be about twenty pages total. This is twelve pages longer than the maximum required length of the standard paper project he asked of the class. I remind myself that it was I who campaigned for a more creative option for the final assignment, and press onward.
3:33 PM: I send a message to Rae and Jay: "I'm on page 14. He had BETTER FUCKING LIKE THIS. It'll be about 20 by the time it's done."
3:36 PM: I realize that most normal people are probably having Thanksgiving dinner while watching football, while I'm here working on a massive project because I a) have no life, b) have no family out here, and c) have nothing "Thanksgivingish" to make for dinner aside from potatoes and stuffing. I have also eaten nothing whatsoever since last night's rice cakes. I consider switching from coffee to beer as I write, but realize that would be a horrific idea and press onward.
3:38 PM: I receive an email from Lady: "Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you're celebrating, somehow. Happy Holiday!" This is really sweet of her.
3:40 PM: I smoke the last cigarette of the pack I opened last night while working on this paper. I take a break for a few moments to open another pack and decompress a bit. You're almost there, Brandon. Almost there. I estimate that I have about two hours more of work to do before I have what I can call a "finished draft" of the project. I send a message to Parker telling him I have 14 pages written.
4PM: I become stuck in a rut of sorts -- I know that if I fully perform a set of re-translation exercises on this Neruda poem, I'll add about six more pages to the paper, easily. I already plan to add another three or four pages to the end in another shorter essay describing what the processes of surrealism have done to my work and can do to others' works, so it is possible that this paper may balloon to three times the required length. I'm not sure what my professor will think of this.
4:10 PM: Just like last year, the kids of the neighborhood are outside running around and screaming bloody murder again. I like children, I do, but please shut the fuck up. It's so loud that I can hear it back here in my Man Cave, on the opposite side of the house, with my iPod on at almost full volume.
4:18 PM: My Thanksgiving dinner: honey mustard pretzels Daisy brought down here over last weekend. Yep. They settle my growling stomach for the moment. I follow this with a handful of peanuts and a handful of Skittles, and promise myself that I will actually cook something tonight.
4:26 PM: The same Hootie and the Blowfish song plays again on my iPod, less than two hours later. WTF.
4:30 PM: The kids are still screaming. Louder than before. I begin seriously pondering getting a vasectomy.
4:47 PM: My translation exercise with Neruda is a success; I have created a fully surreal version of his poem, which when compared with two English translations, allowed the element of chance to spring forth, creating an electronically-produced style of surrealist "automatic writing." I begin wrapping up the Neruda section.
4:55 PM: I realize I've left the "auto spin" function on in the casino slots game I play on Facebook while I've been writing. I've lost $1M from letting it spin nonstop for an hour. I turn it off, and close out of Facebook. I also close out of Twitter; it's too distracting and makes me not want to keep working. Actually, I really want to get out of the house -- and then I realized that Black Friday sales start in about three hours. I shudder inwardly and bury myself back in my work.
5:04 PM: I decide to say FUCK IT for half an hour and take a shower.
5:39 PM: I return to my desk. It's dark outside; the kids' screaming has stopped. Most people, again, are probably watching football or eating dinner. I am stuck at my desk, working on this fucking project until I can call it a "finished draft."
6:20 PM: I give Parker the complete rundown of my project. He's impressed. It's hard to impress Parker -- he's probably the most intelligent student in the class, if not the department. I am very close to wrapping it up -- just another few pages to go.
6:33 PM: I go back to the beginning essay section of the paper and add more to it, clean it up, and retool it to better suit the project's outcome. By the time I've finished, I've added another page to it, bringing the total page count up to 19.
6:52 PM: Daisy posts a status update on Facebook that says "Controversial status alert: how do I find out about Black Friday sales?" I responded with this photo:
She was serious. Which made the above image even funnier. I directed her to various store websites to see their Black Friday ads. I assume she's going to go out shopping (which, knowing Daisy and her dislike of crowds, is beyond me), so I tell her that Walmart has a laptop on sale for $179 during their Black Friday sale and that it's the only thing I desperately need, as my one at school is about to die on me. She calls me a "silly man" and says that she already has my Christmas gift planned.
7:08 PM: I send this message to my friend Bronnie, who is also working on her Surrealism paper this week: "Ten sources for [Professor's] thing. Nineteen pages, twelve of which are part of the creative project I cleared with him. And that's just the draft. Yeah, turkey? Football? family? What's that? I'm all alone in Kansas and this is how I spend my Thanksgiving -- writing, smoking, drinking coffee, and eating rice cakes with my FUCKING CATS ALL ALONE. I hate the holidays." It is a completely, brutally honest message.
7:18 PM: I have added almost two full pages to the introductory essay section of the paper in an attempt to pull everything together a bit tighter.
7:20 PM: I think I've pissed Daisy off; she has stopped replying to my messages about Christmas stuff. I apologize and dive back into the paper. She doesn't respond.
7:33 PM: I remind myself that as soon as I finish this damned thing, I can cook an actual dinner and decompress a bit. That furthers my resolve to get it done as soon as possible.
7:48 PM: I completely finish the rewritten introductory essay section. Now all that remains is to rework the end of the Neruda section and to write my wrap-up. I re-estimate that the project is about 90% done.
7:53 PM: I give the entire project a read-through from start to near-finish. It sounds good, surprisingly.
8:23 PM: Daisy tells me that she's sleepy and probably isn't going out shopping tonight, but to let her know when I finish the project. I tell her not to worry about me, that I'll finish it tonight and will probably just cook dinner and go to bed. I cannot wait to cook dinner. I need food badly, as my stomach feels like it's eating itself. However, I cannot stop until I am done, otherwise I'll lose my train of thought and will be unable to finish because eating makes me sleepy -- especially when I haven't eaten anything all day.
8:33 PM: I begin page 20. This is the conclusion section which will wrap it all up, consisting of my thoughts on the project as a whole. The project is, at this point, 95% (or more) complete.
8:56 PM: With half a page to go on the conclusion section (at most) before I attach my Works Cited page and call it done, I begin heating the pan in the kitchen for cooking cheeseburgers. Because I've earned cheeseburgers, goddammit. I also decide that I've earned a movie and begin brainstorming with the other half of my head what I'd like to watch.
9:05 PM: I breach page 21. I throw the first burger in the pan, on low heat. I find out, via a status update, that Daisy has gone out Black Friday shopping.
9:19 PM: At 22 total pages, the project is done. I immediately give it another read-through, make sure that it is completely saved and locked down, and import a copy of it to PDF for safekeeping. I also email a copy of it to myself in case of catastrophic computer failure. My SchoolDrive (the flash drive I back up all of my schoolwork on) is currently in my desk at work -- emailing myself a copy was the next best option.
So, there you have it. That is the entirety of my project, from start to finish. Now, finally, I can get on with my life and...grade through a stack of student papers over the course of the rest of the weekend. Sigh. Life moves forward.
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