Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Strange Fruit

Reading in the Norton Anthology (7th Ed, vol D), this poem caught my attention.

Some new friends were recently takling about the white, guilty liberal. It was a term I hadn't heard, but it made sense.... I think that I tend to sucumb to feelings of guilt, simply as an extreme reaction to the lack of sensitivity I see in many others. I think what I want is, at very least, a recognition that the world, and our history, and our ancestors, are not such nice things as we sometimes pretend. And from there, I don't know what. Maybe a little bit of action.

My friend Chris put a note up on facebook with a picture of Jesus, and the words "....
well, I'll just upload it. I think it's true. But there's a balance betwixt feeling guilty all the time, and completely ignoring crappy things. I guess I'm trying to find that balance.

Anyways, here's a poem, apparently written in 1939. The poem's title reminds me of the song "Strange Fruit", which is also pretty captivating.
Tree picture taken near campus.



Bitter Fruit of the Tree
Sterling Brown

They said to my grandmother: "Please do not be bitter,"
When they sold her first-born and let the second die,
When they drover her husband till he took to the swamplands,
And brought him home bloody and beaten at last.
They told her, "It is better you should not be bitter,
Some must work and suffer so that we, who must, can live,
Forgiving is noble, you must not be heathen bitter;
These are your orders; you are not to be bitter."
And they left her shack for their porticoed house.

They said to my father: "Please do not be bitter,"
When he ploughed and planted a crop not his,
When he weatherstripped a house that he coud not enter,
And stored away a harvest he could not enjoy.
They answered his questions: It does not concern you,
It is not for you to know, it is past your understanding,
All you need know is: you must not be bitter."

Sunday, December 5, 2010

on the writing of papers

Freak out. Leave the library. Fight hyperventilation while trying not to crash car. Find parking space in overcrowded apartment complex. Feel like fainting. Carefully ascend stairs. Enter apartment. Freak out. Open notebook. Think. Look at book. Freak out. Stop freaking out. Decide on common theme. Pick three stories. Think about them. Get a glass of water. Regret having drunk so much coffee so quickly with so little food. Write. Look up definition of literary analysis thesis. Wonder why theses (thesisis?) are still so bloody confusing. Write out a thesis. Spend five minutes trying to find the exact word wanted. Spend at least another five finding decent Spanish translation. Begin outline. Refill water. Check facebook. Update status. Get into conversation about status. Turn off facebook. Think about taking catnap. Set alarm for thirty minutes. Close eyes. Change mind and write blog. Finish blog. Check facebook. Turn off facebook. Stare blankly at computer screen for a while. Fight hyperventilation. Breathe. Work.

Next edition: Turn in paper on time?