Hello everyone! That is, if anyone's reading this! Please comment from time to time if you are!
First, here's an awesome new Bleach ending. Although Bleach had tried my patience for a while, episode 308 was really good! 308?? That means I've wasted at least 7,084 minutes on this one Anime alone! That's about 118 hours or so? Well I'm doing this in my head, so I might have made a mistake, but that looks like it could be right... Actually, that many hours is a lot less than I thought! That's less than half of my Pokemon Platinum version game hours! Haha Anyway this video is really awesome...
There's something inspiring to me about that music, it just sounds nice. Because of that, I sit here writing this. But what will I write? Will I keep blathering along? Nope.
I hope I can write a really great Pokemon fan fiction! The first chapter, which will be completely redone eventually, can be found in the last blog entry. I've had some very positive feedback so far, anyway. I've got a lot of interesting ideas for how the rest will go, at least in Johto anyway, so I'll probably write at least twenty chapters before I even think about quitting it. I'm hoping to develop and continue to expand a readership and eventually become known for this literary Pokemon fan work on the web. I'm using this as practice; a kind of preliminary for myself as an aspiring author. After this, or perhaps during, I'll start on the story idea I was most previously working on and talking about in my old blog, Duelist Domain, located at
http://ramenboya.blogspot.com, not to be confused with my old old, Dreams of a Go Player, http://honinbou.blogspot.com.
So there you have it - My first two projects: Pokemon: Crimson Destiny, and The Blade of Mimzus.
I'll also be doing some poetry here and there, so hopefully in the coming years I'll be able to build up a big collection of them.
Another thing - I created a Youtube account called EmptyTriangles. It probably won't be possibly to get even a tenth of my GoWeiQiBadukIgo (what a horrible account name) subscribers and such to make the transition though...
My plan for EmptyTriangles is to do various awesome things!
1 - Gaming talk, tutorials etc.
2 - Go tutorials/lessons/talk
3 - Funny videos (Just random stuff I thought of to make people laugh...)
4 - Martial arts tricks<--Which will force me to get in shape and re-teach myself 'wall running', 'handstand/walk', 'tornado kick/360' etc.
Might do other stuff as well, but yeah... I plan to do this when I'm in university next year (the REAL thing) and hopefully living on/near compus.
One day I would like to get good at singing, at least on the Karaoke level... I think I can get decent with some practice, anyway. Once I do that, I'll be sure to post videos of that, too!
But let's not get carried away! I know what my priorities are. I think the beginning of my establishment as a writer is coming! Things are really starting to happen, I can feel it.
And so, to you I say Good day.
But Fez-
I SAY GOOD DAY!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Pokemon: Crimson Destiny Fanfic Chapter I
Hey everyone, here's the completed version of Chapter I, separated into two parts! Skip the first part if you've already read through it in my previous entry!
Cool music! Turn off the annoying annotations though!
Cool music! Turn off the annoying annotations though!
Pokemon: Crimson Destiny
By Ben Mantle
Chapter I, Part I
He opened his eyes, glistening with sun-lit determination. He knew in his heart of hearts that this fateful day would eventually come. That day was today; the day he would receive his Pokemon partner and begin his long-awaited journey. But he knew, he knew that it would be no ordinary Pokemon journey. His grandpa told him so. The birth of dawn was all he needed; he couldn't wait another second.
Eyes ablaze, Crimz scuttled out of bed, slipping into his black shirt and buckling up his jeans. As soon as he finished getting his jacket on and the rest of his things together, he made his way downstairs to the living room. He knew it was really early, his mother was definitely still asleep. Still, he had to go, he couldn't wait any longer. He wasn't even hungry, so he skipped breakfast and grabbed his backpack, which he had packed all up the night before. In fact, he was so anxious that the very thought of eating nearly made him sick. As soon as he was all set, he wrote his mother a note and left in haste.
Mom, I left already to see grandpa. I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait. You must have seen this coming though, am I right?
-Crimz
The sun was growing brightly on the horizon, and the sky was mostly clear; blue and boundless, but still a dull colour. Crimz and his mother lived in a rural area on the outskirts of Azurus. He ran most of the way there, hoping to avoid wild Pokemon along the way. Although he spotted several observant-looking Rattata and Sentret along the way, none of them seemed hostile enough to jump out at him. He was about half way there and stormed right through a small group of Pidgey as though they didn't even exist. Luckily for him, they didn't throw a fit over it; they were too preoccupied with some berries that had strayed onto the path from surrounding trees.
He could already see Azurus ahead; that is, the large waterfall that hid that place from the world. Up ahead, a small dark lump stuck out of the ground, right in the middle of the trail. As he continued running as to skip right over it, he was suddenly bashed onto the ground by an oblivious Geodude, levitating out from the earth. He grumbled in pain as he lifted himself up onto his dirty forearms, and the Geodude, unperturbed, hovered away without so much as a hint of curiousity. Crimz got up and dusted himself off. He decided to walk the rest of the way; the falls already lay before him.
The vast, curdling falls washed over the steep cliff of a massive piece of land. It was like a whole different continent, but the two were connected deep under the river. He'd been here many a time and knew there was nothing special about thispart of the waterfall. Like always, he would have to take the natural trail, which was nearly impossible to find without prior knowledge, down to the base of the river. He stood at the top of a narrow cliff, and from there, he stepped over to the thicket on the right. Kneeling down, he separated the bush with his hands and crawled through a tunnel space over which the thicket arched. Once through, he took a small wooden ladder down which, too, was enveloped by the long, thick bush. He stepped down onto a small mossy boulder, and from it, hopped down onto the dirt path. The dirt trail ramped down in a short spiral along the cliff, leading down to the river.
The river was calm, but some strong Pokemon such as Gyarados and Ursaring lived there, so it was best that it stayed that way. Crimz approached the side of the river, then stopped and took a few steps back. He scurried forward, hopping onto and off of a stone protrusion in the river and landing on a platform right next to, and leading behind, the waterfall. The enormous waves plummeting down thundered in his ears, frothing up the river. The local area was nearly hidden in the cool mist of the falls. Refreshed and ready, Crimz stepped into the underground city of Azurus!
Pokemon: Crimson Destiny
Chapter I, Part II
Crimz stepped into the village, immediately greeted by a robed, middle-aged man with short brown hair, a tanned face and mangy-looking stubble. Beside him, a pale, cheery-faced young lady wearing the same kind of robe, with long dark hair mostly hidden in her hood.
"Yo~ Long time no--" the man turned around abruptly. A thunder of explosions suddenly rumbled through the village!
"What in the world's going on!?" shouted the robed man.
Before the man could turn around, Crimz was already far ahead, racing straight ahead toward the source.
"Wait! Crimz!" He yelled. "... ...Hah?"
The robed lady tailed Crimz toward the large dome at the far end of the village. The commotion was coming from the temple!
"Good grief," muttered the robed man as he jogged slowly toward the scene.
Along the way, many people had stepped out of their marble-white houses. The underground village of Azurus was mostly blue and white, coloured by the luminous white buildings and pools of water located throughout, like a miniature Sootopolis City. A narrow path of stone on the dirt defined the main walkways. The village of Azurus was a sacred place, home to many water and dragon type Pokemon.
"There!" shouted the robed young lady, having caught up with Crimz, and now unhooded.
"You're...!" Crimz whispered as he turned to the lady running alongside him.
"Look," she said. A huge serpentine beast of crimson stood before them, facing the temple and roaring atrociously. A red Gyarados, and standing behind it...
A caped man, with hair to match his Gyarados, stood valiantly in the midst of battle. Lance, the dragon master, was battling! Facing the Gyarados, a Cacturne and Nidoking stood proudly, rearing to go. Behind the Pokemon, two figures in black. Behind the Cacturne on the right, a young lady wearing a tight black shirt, grey gloves, black skirt, long black boots and a matching hat stood in defiance. Her long, blond bangs hung out of her hat along the sides of her face, and at her waist, a metallic silver belt held her pokeballs and little else. On the left, a young man wearing nearly the same getup stood behind his Nidoking with a confident smirk. He wore no hat over his wild, violet hair, however. Both of their shirts bore a large, red 'R' that could not be mistaken.
"It's Team Rocket!" shouted the robed lady as she arrived with Crimz at the scene of the ongoing battle.
"Gyarados, use Aqua Tail!" commanded Lance the dragon master.
Gyarados focused its power into a wide, swinging lash of its long, white-finned tail, but Nidoking jumped into the air, successfully avoiding the attack. The windy aftershock of the forceful swing breezed the surrounding people with a sandy wind, from which they shielded their eyes in dismay.
"Nidoking, use Giga Impact!" said the Team Rocket man.
"Gyarados, you too!" Lance commanded.
Nidoking's purple, armoured body was enveloped by an intense, fire-like aura, preparing for an enblazened charge. Gyarados quickly matched face, nearly camouflaging its scaly red body in its own raging envelopment. The two Pokemon adversaries raged forward, deafened by their own roars.
"Cacturne, it's time to go! Use Needle Arm, now!" Ordered the Team Rocket girl.
Cacturne launched its prickly green body forward, building up momentum into one of its spiky arms through constant swinging. While Gyarados and Nidoking were still locked together in a heated power struggle, Cacturne lurched forward, heaving its jagged arm into Gyarados. Gyarados writhed and roared in pain as it began to give way to Nidoking.
Crimz hustled over to the temple and snuck in behind the Rockets.
"Grand--"
"Stop." demanded a robed old man, mostly bald with a short, scraggly white beard. "Oh, Crimz, it's you! You're here to see Elder Carnellius?"
"I'm in a hurry, can't you see what's happening out there?" said Crimz as he anxiously held up his clenched, determined fists.
"Okay, okay, go ahead. Hurry!" the old man replied.
Crimz jogged deep into the temple, careful not to slip on the wet, stone floor. The hall was made completely out of stone, with large pools of water occupying the sides. Various aquatic tunnels led out from the bottoms of the pools, allowing Pokemon to go in and out freely. There were various dragon-head statues and enscriptions carved and etched into the high, allabaster walls, and a small lamp hanging from the central point of the cieling illuminated every corner of the room. Thin but heavy, stone doors located directly ahead of the temple's entrance led to the sacred room of the elder.
Grandpa would be there.
Crimz pushed his way through the stone doors and hastily proceeded into the room.
"Grand--"
"Crimz..." his Grandfather interrupted, as if having anticipated his arrival. "It's good to see you again."
A red robe, looser and longer, spread along the floor around the sitting elder.
"Grandpa, right now--" Crimz beckoned, interrupted once again.
"You've seen all the ruckus going on outside? Those fools in black who steal and mistreat Pokemon will never understand true power. Don't ever be a fool, Crimz." said Carnellius.
Crimz waited calmly for whatever would come next, but began sweating impatiently, anxiously.
"Today was the day you would receive your first companion. Yes..." noted the elder, Carnellius. "And that you shall."
Crimz lit up with uncharacteristic excitement. How he had waited for this.
"Knowing you, young one, I trust you've already made your decision. Here they are, go ahead."
Presented with a golden-framed box with a luxuriously designed gold and navy covering, Crimz lifted the top open.
There they were, six Pokeballs nested neatly in the soft velvet inner lining. Crimz grabbed a Pokeball and bolted out of the temple without a second thought, nearly slipping on his way back through the hall toward the exit.
Outside, Lance's Gyarados was struggling in its two-on-one battle with Nidoking and Cacturne. Lance reached for another Pokeball from his waist.
"Go--" Lance's voice fizzled away in surprise. In came running a boy from out of nowhere!
"GO, POKEMON!"
Drifting Sand, Hidden Author
Hello everybody! It's really late (early) and I'm pretty much on a vampiric schedule now, but I'm really happy with my recent literary improvements. It's all thanks to having begun university! For a while now, I've been an admin on a Pokemon Wifi page (PWP) on Facebook. Some of the others got into writing Pokemon fanfics, and I decided it might be a fun idea for me, and a great chance to test my authoring ability! Here's what else I've realized: Although it may not be a legitimate strategy, I have a much easier time of writing a story when I don't plan anything out! When I go with the flow my imagination does half the work! Here's something I typed up on a whim a few minutes ago... But first, here's some music! The story is below.
Turn the annotations off, they're really annoying.
Turn the annotations off, they're really annoying.
Pokemon: Crimson Destiny
Chapter I, Part I
He opened his eyes, glistening with sun-lit determination. He knew in his heart of hearts that this fateful day would eventually come. That day was today; the day he would receive his Pokemon partner and begin his long-awaited journey. But he knew, he knew that it would be no ordinary Pokemon journey. His grandpa told him so. The birth of dawn was all he needed; he couldn't wait another second.
Eyes ablaze, Crimz scuttled out of bed, slipping into his black shirt and buckling up his jeans. As soon as he finished getting his jacket on and the rest of his things together, he made his way downstairs to the living room. He knew it was really early, his mother was definitely still asleep. Still, he had to go, he couldn't wait any longer. He wasn't even hungry, so he skipped breakfast and grabbed his backpack, which he had packed all up the night before. In fact, he was so anxious that the very thought of eating nearly made him sick. As soon as he was all set, he wrote his mother a note and left in haste.
Mom, I left already to see grandpa. I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait. You must have seen this coming though, am I right?
-Crimz
The sun was growing brightly on the horizon, and the sky was mostly clear; blue and boundless, but still a dull colour. Crimz and his mother lived in a rural area on the outskirts of Azurus. He ran most of the way there, hoping to avoid wild Pokemon along the way. Although he spotted several observant-looking Rattata and Sentret along the way, none of them seemed hostile enough to jump out at him. He was about half way there and stormed right through a small group of Pidgey as though they didn't even exist. Luckily for him, they didn't throw a fit over it; they were too preoccupied with some berries that had strayed onto the path from surrounding trees.
He could already see Azurus ahead; that is, the large waterfall that hid that place from the world. Up ahead, a small dark lump stuck out of the ground, right in the middle of the trail. As he continued running as to skip right over it, he was suddenly bashed onto the ground by an oblivious Geodude, levitating out from the ground. He grumbled in pain as he lifted himself up onto his dirty forearms, and the Geodude, unperturbed, hovered away without so much as a hint of curiousity. Crimz got up and dusted himself off. He decided to walk the rest of the way; the falls already lay before him.
The vast, curdling falls washed over the steep cliff of a massive piece of land. It was like a whole different continent, but the two were connected deep under the river. He'd been here many a time and knew there was nothing special about thispart of the waterfall. Like always, he would have to take the natural trail, which was nearly impossible to find without prior knowledge, down to the base of the river. He stood at the top of a narrow cliff, and from there, he stepped over to the thicket on the right. Kneeling down, he separated the bush with his hands and crawled through a tunnel space over which the thicket arched. Once through, he took a small wooden ladder down which, too, was enveloped by the long, thick bush. He stepped down onto a small mossy boulder, and from it, hopped down onto the dirt path. The dirt trail ramped down in a short spiral along the cliff, leading down to the river.
The river was calm, but some strong Pokemon such as Gyarados and Ursaring lived there, so it was best that it stayed that way. Crimz approached the side of the river, then stopped and took a few steps back. He scurried forward, hopping onto and off of a stone protrusion in the river and landing on a platform right next to, and leading behind, the waterfall. The enormous waves plummeting down thundered in his ears, frothing up the river. The local area was nearly hidden in the cool mist of the falls. Refreshed and ready, Crimz stepped into the underground city of Azurus!
To be Continued...!
Friday, February 4, 2011
-Mini Post #5-
A real 'mini post' this time. As mini as a post from me can get, anyway.
This song is called Key of the Twilight, part of the .Hack//Sign Anime sound track. It actually means a lot to me; it makes me feel like I'm in another world, another place all by myself. It's one of my "escape" songs. There are various situations in which I enjoy it, such as when going to sleep, but especially when a bright twilight moon is in view. The feeling of being somewhere else is of great satisfaction to me.
I've gotten off to a good start on preparing for my in-class assignment; I may be able to finish the first stage of preparations by tomorrow night. I'll create a labeled essay skeleton and show it to the the prof, along with my revised prep notes. I might have to actually set up the meeting, but it seems I still have at least a week before I'll be writing this thing, so I'm sure if I just keep repeating today's diligence I'll get at least an 85 or a 90. Today I actually played a few games on KGS. Wow. Well, my rust is more than evident, but it surely nothing a month or two of training can't fix.
Tomorrow I have a seminar thingy to go to. Why does it have to start at 10:30am...? T__T I'm hoping to buy a thick booklet of lined paper and get my hands on a copy of "The Fox" while I'm out. Che'.... I already have but six and a half hours left to sleep. No, less... I wanted to read Sunwing some more, but I guess it's a foolish idea. I'm going to try sleeping in the relatively noise-free basement...
To Do
I've gotten off to a good start on preparing for my in-class assignment; I may be able to finish the first stage of preparations by tomorrow night. I'll create a labeled essay skeleton and show it to the the prof, along with my revised prep notes. I might have to actually set up the meeting, but it seems I still have at least a week before I'll be writing this thing, so I'm sure if I just keep repeating today's diligence I'll get at least an 85 or a 90. Today I actually played a few games on KGS. Wow. Well, my rust is more than evident, but it surely nothing a month or two of training can't fix.
Tomorrow I have a seminar thingy to go to. Why does it have to start at 10:30am...? T__T I'm hoping to buy a thick booklet of lined paper and get my hands on a copy of "The Fox" while I'm out. Che'.... I already have but six and a half hours left to sleep. No, less... I wanted to read Sunwing some more, but I guess it's a foolish idea. I'm going to try sleeping in the relatively noise-free basement...
To Do
- Attend Feb. 5 seminar (10:30am)
- Buy a thick booklet of lined paper
- Buy "The Fox"
- Learn all unknown vocabulary from all school papers and "Break, Blow, Burn" analyses
- Try to maintain a regular sleep schedule, then commence posted routine
- Finish new poem from Feb. 4
- Finish preparing in-class essay prep notes and essay blueprints
- See prof about in-class essay plan, recreate prep notes
- Get strong at bib/ref
- Write up two story ideas (Pokemon-esque adventure, Loser-->genius)
- Study 10 poems + analyses from "Break, Blow, Burn"
- Read up on 'existentialism' ahead of time for class
- Retrieve grammar drill papers from prof
- Finish fixing my story's plot issues, type up and print story plan, character info, place desc. etc.
Off to bed... There's a good chance I'll end up failing to sleep, getting back onto the computer and deciding against the seminar.
See ya~
Thursday, February 3, 2011
-Mini Post #4B-
'Sup again.
Continuing from the post from earlier today, entitled '-Mini Post #4', I decided to leave the house coat-less. For some reason my warm-looking coat is completely useless, so useless that I left with only a sweater today. Usually I wear a sweater with a coat on top and still feel very cold. Today was only slightly worse, the omission of said coat caused minimal detriment. That coat also happens to magnetize cat hair... It practically vacuums it off of them... Stupid useless coat...
So I journeyed forward, seeking out patches of sunlight at every chance. Halfway down to Gerrard, I crossed over the celestial barrier and continued down Logan. I made my shifty appearance at Gerrard Square's EBGames, loitering on the outskirts as I received my coveted Suicune. I then packed away my pink DS and scuttled away into the darkness. Seconds later, I reversed my path and waltzed invisibly through the food court toward Subway, camouflaging myself in the unsuspecting old people. Shortly after reaching my destination, my dignified spot in line was butted. Piteously I watched as a six-inch sandwich was stuffed empty with meat, cheese and sub sauce. Then, I took my turn, believing things might turn out for the better. A foot-long Cold Cut Combo with extra lettuce, extra tomatoes, everything else and topped with salt, pepper and mayonnaise was ordered. A strong sandwich, but still lacking much-needed power. I watched in horror as my beautiful foot-long was abused and mishandled in her hands, white sauce dripping all over the place. Yes, the mayonnaise was everywhere. My sandwich was ruined. I paid for my meal, took a seat disdainfully close to the rampant old codgers, and ate my sandwich. Discombobulated awesomeness it was.
After such a horrible, life-changing event, I arrived at the Riverdale Library. Little did I know the horrors that lay ahead. I took out Silverwing and Firewing, having greatly enjoyed Sunwing. I used the washroom, which smelt of death, and found a place to sit near a dead old Chinese man. I gazed out the glass wall, then took out my long-lost poetry book/journal from high school; Dark red and hard-covered, with a pretty silver ribbon as a built-in bookmark. I began writing a promising new poem about the coalition of man's creations and nature; the interdependence of Reason and ambivalence of the world; the futility of dividing the world into black and white. The old man coughed. Okay fine, he wasn't dead, but he looked it. The first few minutes of writing went smoothly.
And then the teens came.
They wouldn't shut up.
They were only the half of it. Not a second went by without the moaning and shrieking of lungs being coughed up. Well, people were coughing, with emphasis on 'cough'. And 'ing'. People were KOFFING! I waited and waited, and coughing evolved into wheezing. There was this old lady who kept circling around the library, occasionally passing behind my chair, and every time she passed behind me, there was a familiar shriek, followed by a pleasant mist at my neck.
Then came the last straw. A French dude. Well, he looked French, and he was wearing a burret. Yes, a burret. His posture was abnormally emphasized, especially when he walked, like standing before an imaginary urinal. He sat in the chair to the left of me and opened up a big book of paintings with a big picture and a little text on each page. I glanced over and noticed a big picture of an egg plant. The guy started leaning his head side to side, and I continued on with my little poem. "Mmmmmm", he hummed. ... About twenty seconds later, it came again. "Mmmmhmmmm...hmmmm.... ... ...Hmmm!" ... "Hmmmmm-"
"OH NO YOU DI ' NT!!!!!1"
I left the library.
You know, in my day, libraries were quiet, and didn't have French painter dudes from Paris in them..
Continuing from the post from earlier today, entitled '-Mini Post #4', I decided to leave the house coat-less. For some reason my warm-looking coat is completely useless, so useless that I left with only a sweater today. Usually I wear a sweater with a coat on top and still feel very cold. Today was only slightly worse, the omission of said coat caused minimal detriment. That coat also happens to magnetize cat hair... It practically vacuums it off of them... Stupid useless coat...
So I journeyed forward, seeking out patches of sunlight at every chance. Halfway down to Gerrard, I crossed over the celestial barrier and continued down Logan. I made my shifty appearance at Gerrard Square's EBGames, loitering on the outskirts as I received my coveted Suicune. I then packed away my pink DS and scuttled away into the darkness. Seconds later, I reversed my path and waltzed invisibly through the food court toward Subway, camouflaging myself in the unsuspecting old people. Shortly after reaching my destination, my dignified spot in line was butted. Piteously I watched as a six-inch sandwich was stuffed empty with meat, cheese and sub sauce. Then, I took my turn, believing things might turn out for the better. A foot-long Cold Cut Combo with extra lettuce, extra tomatoes, everything else and topped with salt, pepper and mayonnaise was ordered. A strong sandwich, but still lacking much-needed power. I watched in horror as my beautiful foot-long was abused and mishandled in her hands, white sauce dripping all over the place. Yes, the mayonnaise was everywhere. My sandwich was ruined. I paid for my meal, took a seat disdainfully close to the rampant old codgers, and ate my sandwich. Discombobulated awesomeness it was.
After such a horrible, life-changing event, I arrived at the Riverdale Library. Little did I know the horrors that lay ahead. I took out Silverwing and Firewing, having greatly enjoyed Sunwing. I used the washroom, which smelt of death, and found a place to sit near a dead old Chinese man. I gazed out the glass wall, then took out my long-lost poetry book/journal from high school; Dark red and hard-covered, with a pretty silver ribbon as a built-in bookmark. I began writing a promising new poem about the coalition of man's creations and nature; the interdependence of Reason and ambivalence of the world; the futility of dividing the world into black and white. The old man coughed. Okay fine, he wasn't dead, but he looked it. The first few minutes of writing went smoothly.
And then the teens came.
They wouldn't shut up.
They were only the half of it. Not a second went by without the moaning and shrieking of lungs being coughed up. Well, people were coughing, with emphasis on 'cough'. And 'ing'. People were KOFFING! I waited and waited, and coughing evolved into wheezing. There was this old lady who kept circling around the library, occasionally passing behind my chair, and every time she passed behind me, there was a familiar shriek, followed by a pleasant mist at my neck.
Then came the last straw. A French dude. Well, he looked French, and he was wearing a burret. Yes, a burret. His posture was abnormally emphasized, especially when he walked, like standing before an imaginary urinal. He sat in the chair to the left of me and opened up a big book of paintings with a big picture and a little text on each page. I glanced over and noticed a big picture of an egg plant. The guy started leaning his head side to side, and I continued on with my little poem. "Mmmmmm", he hummed. ... About twenty seconds later, it came again. "Mmmmhmmmm...hmmmm.... ... ...Hmmm!" ... "Hmmmmm-"
"OH NO YOU DI ' NT!!!!!1"
I left the library.
You know, in my day, libraries were quiet, and didn't have French painter dudes from Paris in them..
-Mini Post #4-
Yo.
So I was reading some poetry from a couple of books last night. Incidentally, I fell asleep before midnight for a change. One book was (Camille Paglia's) Break, Blow, Burn: An analysis of fourty-three of "the world's best poems", the other was the Broadview Anthology of Poetry (Second Edition), a huge collection of hundreds of poems without analyses. The beginning of the Anthology featured several really really old poems in a form of English I had seemingly never seen before. It was like a dialogue from a Tolkien novel of some verbally challenged, toothless dwarf. I could just barely make out the words, so I chose to bypass these poems, as they'd be of no help to me right now (ever?).
Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,
That of hir smiling was ful simple and coy,
Hir Gretteste ooth was but by saint Loy;
And she was cleped madame Eglantine.
Ful wel she soong the service divine,
Entuned in hir nose ful semely;
And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly,
After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe--
For Frenssh of Paris was to hire unknowe.
At mete wel ytaught was she withalle;
...continues.
That's just one example, and although I can understand... ...most of it...it's not something I want to read. All of these poems, seemingly dwarven or normally spoken as they may be, usually seem to require their own background knowledge about random people, places and times around which they revolve. Seems like a big pain in the ass, if you ask me. Combined with a lot of easily read, but still-above-my-head poetry, as well as everything else I've studied so far in Intro to Literature (poetic structure/technique/meaning, drama, prose and general grammar), it seems to me that it's all just beginning. I feel as I did nearly five years ago when I started learning the game of Go; as though I have overwhelmingly unlimited room for improvement. Of course, I still doubt it can be as hard as Go. Some people thought I had a knack for Go; my passion for it was unlike anything before in my life. I studied and played Go all the time and even traveled to S. Korea to advance my prowess. Even after becoming a Fifth Dan-level player in Canada, which is comparable to a Fifth Degree Black Belt in Karate, it was clear that I still had (have) a long, long way to go, but never to achieve mastery. It seems a little less impossible to comprehend the end of the road in the study of literature, but as far as human limits are concerned, it may as well be equally futile. Yesterday I read some poems from the last century: relatively easy reads. Although relatively easy, it seemed like I could never understand them on my own. It was frustrating for me, made me feel stupid. Made me feel like I could hope to write novels, but never poetry. Then I found some other poems amongst them: simpler, and seemingly more literal.
Surprisingly literal.
Although it dawned on me that I might just be too dimwitted to see their true meaning, it also occurred to me that "simple" poems, or "shallow" ones if you will, may in fact be just as significant in the world of poetry as Shakespearian sonnets or other such poetry so charged with meaning and edifying depth. I'm referring to the kind of poetry with the depth of any person's capacity, whilst at the same time, requiring depth and fluorescence of imagination to entice a fine eye.
I stand within the stony, arid town,
I gaze forever on the narrow street,
I hear forever passing up and down,
The ceaseless tramp of feet.
I know no brotherhood with far-locked woods,
When branches bourgeon from a kindred sap,
Where o'er mossed roots, in cool, green solitudes,
Small silver brooklets lap.
No emerald vines creep wistfully to me
And lay their tender fingers on my bark;
High may I toss my boughs, yet never see
Dawns first most glorious spark.
..continues.
Anyway, that's enough talk of poetry for now.
Here's a little riddle:
"What walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?" said Sphynx.
Although one of the things I plan to do today is go to EBGames for a Pokemon giveaway (they're wirelessly giving out special shiny Suicune right now, as well as "Ash's Pikachu"), I'm not so much as touching my DS for a while, except to use as an alarm clock :) I'm also going to go to the local library, hopefully to borrow Silverwing and Firewing, having finished reading Sunwing with unanticipated satisfaction.
All this talk of novels and poetry reminds me that I need to pick up a copy of "The Fox", or anything containing it. More importantly, I have to prepare for next class's in-class essay! I've decided to just do it on No One's A Mystery, the short story we did in our very first class. As I mentioned a while ago, I got 77% on the half in-class half out-of-class diagnostic assignment that my class received immediately. Despite my mark, the paper was littered with mistakes of all kinds (though few were grammatical). This fact has played a part in my decision to do this story. Our assignment is to talk about the design of the story, and all its elements.
On that note: Adios!
So I was reading some poetry from a couple of books last night. Incidentally, I fell asleep before midnight for a change. One book was (Camille Paglia's) Break, Blow, Burn: An analysis of fourty-three of "the world's best poems", the other was the Broadview Anthology of Poetry (Second Edition), a huge collection of hundreds of poems without analyses. The beginning of the Anthology featured several really really old poems in a form of English I had seemingly never seen before. It was like a dialogue from a Tolkien novel of some verbally challenged, toothless dwarf. I could just barely make out the words, so I chose to bypass these poems, as they'd be of no help to me right now (ever?).
Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,
That of hir smiling was ful simple and coy,
Hir Gretteste ooth was but by saint Loy;
And she was cleped madame Eglantine.
Ful wel she soong the service divine,
Entuned in hir nose ful semely;
And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly,
After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe--
For Frenssh of Paris was to hire unknowe.
At mete wel ytaught was she withalle;
...continues.
That's just one example, and although I can understand... ...most of it...it's not something I want to read. All of these poems, seemingly dwarven or normally spoken as they may be, usually seem to require their own background knowledge about random people, places and times around which they revolve. Seems like a big pain in the ass, if you ask me. Combined with a lot of easily read, but still-above-my-head poetry, as well as everything else I've studied so far in Intro to Literature (poetic structure/technique/meaning, drama, prose and general grammar), it seems to me that it's all just beginning. I feel as I did nearly five years ago when I started learning the game of Go; as though I have overwhelmingly unlimited room for improvement. Of course, I still doubt it can be as hard as Go. Some people thought I had a knack for Go; my passion for it was unlike anything before in my life. I studied and played Go all the time and even traveled to S. Korea to advance my prowess. Even after becoming a Fifth Dan-level player in Canada, which is comparable to a Fifth Degree Black Belt in Karate, it was clear that I still had (have) a long, long way to go, but never to achieve mastery. It seems a little less impossible to comprehend the end of the road in the study of literature, but as far as human limits are concerned, it may as well be equally futile. Yesterday I read some poems from the last century: relatively easy reads. Although relatively easy, it seemed like I could never understand them on my own. It was frustrating for me, made me feel stupid. Made me feel like I could hope to write novels, but never poetry. Then I found some other poems amongst them: simpler, and seemingly more literal.
Surprisingly literal.
Although it dawned on me that I might just be too dimwitted to see their true meaning, it also occurred to me that "simple" poems, or "shallow" ones if you will, may in fact be just as significant in the world of poetry as Shakespearian sonnets or other such poetry so charged with meaning and edifying depth. I'm referring to the kind of poetry with the depth of any person's capacity, whilst at the same time, requiring depth and fluorescence of imagination to entice a fine eye.
I stand within the stony, arid town,
I gaze forever on the narrow street,
I hear forever passing up and down,
The ceaseless tramp of feet.
I know no brotherhood with far-locked woods,
When branches bourgeon from a kindred sap,
Where o'er mossed roots, in cool, green solitudes,
Small silver brooklets lap.
No emerald vines creep wistfully to me
And lay their tender fingers on my bark;
High may I toss my boughs, yet never see
Dawns first most glorious spark.
..continues.
Anyway, that's enough talk of poetry for now.
Here's a little riddle:
"What walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?" said Sphynx.
Although one of the things I plan to do today is go to EBGames for a Pokemon giveaway (they're wirelessly giving out special shiny Suicune right now, as well as "Ash's Pikachu"), I'm not so much as touching my DS for a while, except to use as an alarm clock :) I'm also going to go to the local library, hopefully to borrow Silverwing and Firewing, having finished reading Sunwing with unanticipated satisfaction.
All this talk of novels and poetry reminds me that I need to pick up a copy of "The Fox", or anything containing it. More importantly, I have to prepare for next class's in-class essay! I've decided to just do it on No One's A Mystery, the short story we did in our very first class. As I mentioned a while ago, I got 77% on the half in-class half out-of-class diagnostic assignment that my class received immediately. Despite my mark, the paper was littered with mistakes of all kinds (though few were grammatical). This fact has played a part in my decision to do this story. Our assignment is to talk about the design of the story, and all its elements.
On that note: Adios!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Drifting Sand, Hidden Meaning
WARNING: The following audio is a Japanese song called Mizutamari ^^
Of bright flames reaching,
Seeking and fleeting
Red rose unearthing,
Hesitant and lurching
Balancing a candle,
Burning in the water
Above the mantle,
Never the hotter
Of rain so shallow,
But daggers and bullets
Cometh falling cowl,
Returning thy cullet
Enduring the tides,
Making them crimson
Continue a bide,
Or open its prison
Even though I can tell I have a whole lot to learn about poetry, and look forward to it, I do feel this poem is pretty good given my goose egg poetic foundation. I guess I'll go ahead and explain the meanings next entry or something, as I'd like to thereby do my poem some justice. I'd like to hear some of your ideas though. That means you! =D
I wrote up this poem on a whim just now, took about twenty minutes. Please tell me what you think! To be honest, there's A LOT of hidden meaning in most of it, though it's not all that deep. At least it's far deeper than any of the poems I wrote for fun in high school, not that those were necessarily illegitimate. I haven't actually studied poetry yet besides hearing some stuff in class, but from the few classes I've had so far, I've learned quite a bit about various sects of English and felt confident enough to give this a try. I'm aware that my line breaks are *probably newbie, too much like normal prose. I hope you'll let me know what kind of symbolism and general idea you see in this poem. I don't think it's all that hard to figure it all out; if anything, it's probably still too simplistic compared to poems like The Tyger.
WAN...MOA...SING!
Does anyone agree with me that it's kind of shitty that some of us get marked in school, in university no less, for remembering random people's names?? Not even a history course! I hate having to memorize/study useless things. I'm talking about the kind of names I'll never ever have to refer to in any way for the rest of my life.
Ever.
WAN...MOA...SING!
Tonight's class was almost completely focused on the poem The Tyger. These classes are so abstract and vague, it makes my head hurt. It seems like even though the prof is doing a good job of teaching us and explaining everything - no complaints there - all of my classmates and I time and time again find ourselves confused and stupified<--With emphasis on 'stupi'. Well, I'm exaggerating, we're doing our best and contributing a lot of interesting (but often too shallow) conceptions. Mr. M is totally correct in his perception of us as a detail-oriented class, seemingly dull in terms of imagination, or at least our ability to visualize the verses of poetry and prose. And here I thought my imagination was great. Mind you, I've gotten the hidden meanings right in some of the discussions, but once or twice he must of misheard me, having corrected me with the exact same thing I had just said. In such instances, as long as my peers continue to turn to meet my eyes with dignifying glances of comical sympathy, it's all good.
Mr. M is a really sharp-minded old dude, I must say. His hearing is not bad either, contrary to what I must have implied ^^ I'm happy that he thinks I'm the best or one of the best in the class when it comes to grammar. He mentioned this on two occasions so far, and seems to have made note that I'm putting in a lot of effort. Tonight, for example: I was the only one out of the entire class who handed in all the work sheets/mini tests assigned last class. Although I may be obscuring his exact words, he said, "Even you had at least a few mistakes in here. It's strange that no one's handing these in for correction when their grammar is worse than yours." Even though I'm already aware by now, it still feels good. Gives me a feeling of confirmation that the next four, five years may, no, will go smoothly!
WAN...MOA...SING!
I became more than a little irritated today upon realizing that in order to most easily succeed in this kind of course, I must be familiar with not only Greek mythology (which I don't mind, I'd be almost happy to brush up on a bunch of fun myths), but also the bible... Bible=need to know=*knows nothing about it at all, and doesn't care (no offense to those who do)=destroyed person.
Solve for I.
E=MC^2, therefore I=destroyed person.
WAN...MOA...SING!
Bye for now! Sayounara~
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