Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Friday, March 31, 2006


Why am I so tired lately? I'm finding myself dropping off and with such a bad headache by 9 each night and here I am after a couple hours of nap and still I'm just groggy beyond painful and bithchy about it beyond hell. I hate being like this and I almost fear going back to my class schedule. It's all too soon and that means I have to actually catch up on my homework and I actually have to do my work - tired as I am - before my body has had the time to recover from whatever the hell it's trying to recover from. What's up with the body waiting so long to start the healing process anyway? Is it run by the government and wainting for some sort of permissionary confirmation or something? I don't have anything more to say on this but it's killin me that I really have to go through with this. It brings me to tears to feel this way and I can't even go back to sleep yet. I'm waiting for the neighbors to stop with the noise...

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Mind dump

That singe, that tear, that aweful and painful burn. It stings and it eats away at me. I want her gone, I want to get rid of her, I want her to leave us alone. It bothers me It hurts me It is what kills me inside. I would kill for release. Relief from this is what I need. and that releif is what is so disturbing. I'd kill her if I could and it is probably what would not be the best of things... Thoughts to ensue. To be fleshed out later.

Painful Appology

tears, tears, tears, pain, love, passion, love to cry, hate to cry, want to cry, hate to hurt, want the pain, to leave. I need you, to be with me, to comfort me. I'm sorry. Do you hurt? I hurt. Can you help heal this pain in my heart? I hope so. I don't want to hurt anymore. Will crying cause relief to come? If so I wan to cry. Help me cry, help me hurt, no more. But I can't cry and hurt no more. Don't want to do wrong. Good girls. Good girls don't cry. I don't want to do wrong, doing wrong hurts others, don't want to hurt others. I would do wrong, I would hurt, I would hurt others if I cut, If I cut loose. Can you help me? Fuck! I hate this! Help ME! I have this hurt, Hurt ME! Kill Me! It's a pain release. Pain is a pain release. I want to release the pain in my heart. I love you, I hate you. I need you, I want you, To help me hurt no more. Relief.
Guilty, I hurt...
I'm sorry

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Little post

I have so little on my mind, I'm trying to get by here. I've so very much to get done and nothing to really do. With homework to catch up on, and assignments to finish, a book I'm dying to read and poetry I'm dying to find and sort through. I'm trying to get by. Life here, right now in this moment is so simple and I love it. This is what I've been wanting all my life and now that I have it I don't want to let it go to have to go back. Only a few days now and I'll have to. I dont want to have to, but I will. There's so much I want to do now if only I could get myself to do it instead of blindly wanting and not having the time because of all the things I have to do instead. It's a funny little world out there and all i want to do is muse. Her in love I am dying for the time to do my own thing.
Have to
Want to

What a funny little world this is.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

an unfinished poem

Please me like you do, taunt me touch me and set me free
you carry me through life's great ails and fails you always do
For me you break you take my pain, I weep I lie I fall
Within so deep, within so cold and lost here I find nothing
Nothing so old nothing so sacred, nothing pleases me like you do
I cannot find myself here, here without you I am gone.
I need you to be in your arms and distance I find my keeper
With nothing but air, nothing but time I lie here lost in you
Thoughts of you are all I have and you are nowhere near

To be continued...

Monday, March 27, 2006

Confession: Resurection with Wings

"While hanging out a window
just the other day
I saw a lone bird
flying away
His feet hanging low from his belly
His beak had a worm, It squirmed like jelly.
While hanging out my window
my feet hanging low
I said 'what I wouldn't give,
to just fly away and go.'
So I did, I flew.
I tried something new.
And while hurdling towards the ground,
Escaped my lips; not a sound.
I then knew my mistake
And when I hit the ground,
I probably wouldn't wake.
So I closed my eyes
and wished for wings
While thinking of all these things:
Of my life; past and present.
Of those who love me; none.
Of all that I had lived for,
Of what I'd said; and done.
At that tme I realized
I'd not made a mistake
I did the world a favor
When my lif eI did take."

Post for Sun Mar 26th

Ok so if we can't tell it's Spring Break time for me then let me state that it is so. Meanwhile, while i was up in Pa recently I went through some old stuff of mine that I found in storage. In amongst that stuff I found some stuff I'd written long ago and a lot of it is the unfinished beginnings of what I think I could take far. So over the next few I'll be taking what I can and running with it. A lot of it is crap though so please don't mind the one-way ramblings of a young and insane mind. I was in fact a writer in denial of such and I realize that with both pleasure and horror now. If I knew this then I'd have taken the time to write creatively daily. I'd have more stuff to work with now. So meanwhile. I hope you enjoy.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

I love my Ryan

So I've been traveling a lot lately and as we all know the most dangerous way to drive is by automible. Lately I've driven to Ny City back to Va. To Pa and soonm I'll be traveling south again. I'm looking at another many hours on the road... Most probably tonight - ugh. I'm tired and a bit hungry - both conditions under which it's not the best to drive and will - again most probably - be hitting the road like this. Needless to say my boy is worried and he has good reason to be. Even when I tell myself to pull over and take a nap I find it hard to. For all those stubborn ass-holes like me out there - do your loved ones or yourself or anyone else a favour and take breaks the second you feel the need for them. I will be doing it. Here's to saving someone some heartache. And stubborn-ness - you can take a back-seat for this trip. See you when I get there. Out.

Post for Fri. Mar 24th

I'll keep this short because I really don't want to rant for too long and I find that what I have to say this time is really irrelevant... I went to renew my liscence today and they didn't even ask for an ID to verify that the picture being put with the name was really me... Does any one see security problems with this??? Now I don't mind the fact that I got to skip a lot of the hastle, and they did want to see and "examine" my old liscence, even checked that it looked like me - sort of... and by sort of I mean they glances at me when I handed the guy my liscence - but never the less I bet you if I were of middle eastern decent they woulda put me through the ringer... What-a-country!

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Random stats and oppinion Brought on by the recent Anneversary surge

Only because I'm sick of the bitchin' I post my feelings: Like me or hate me, It's a free country and I hope they have the same privledge soon.

American death toll to date in Iraq

American death toll from 9/11

American death toll due to all Illegal Drug uses
(Marijuana kills 0 people per year)

American death toll per year to Drunk Drivers

44,000 to 100,000
Iraqi death toll to date since the onset of the war (3 years)
(including civilians and non-violent and other natural deaths!)

American death toll per year to Alcohol

American death toll per year to Tobacco

American death toll per year to Traffic Accidents

American death toll per year to Cancer

Shouldn’t we be more concerned with other things?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

First draft of the Narrative essay.

Shannon Hollender
Prof. Malesh
Draft 1 of Narrative Ppr.
Due: 3/22/06

E-books and the Distribution Opportunity
Intro: Hook
Bound to her past, Suir Feale remembers being ten and watching the boat leave. The image of her grandfather holding the old red book clutched to his chest has forever haunted her. It was heavy for being so small; mom said that was because it was old. Hidden beneath its wooden cover and found deep within it’s pages of words and photographs intertwined was hidden her family’s history. The great struggle they had gone through was trapped and forever recorded in those pages. From that moment on Suir swore she’d find her grandfather again and save her family’s history from forever being lost in the new world her grandfather called “opportunity.”
When I was seven I swallowed up stories like this one whole. I was an insatiable reader and I loved everything from the sappy-sweet and boringly predictable quest tales to the mind-nerving horror/mystery, the sensual, the romantic, the mind-numbing and the erratic. I loved books and at that age read everything I could. I even took in the Bible which is a lot more twisted and convoluted than people give it credit for. When I was seven, eight, nine and ten all I could do was read. Rushing through my homework I’d run to the book-club’s newest edition of publications and pick out a group of stories I would save my allowance for.

History: Personal Involvement
When I turned eleven, my allowance wouldn’t satisfy my need for the written word anymore. I’d read everything in the house, gone through everything the Library would allow me, I’d even managed to get my hands on The Kama Sutra, and I was still craving that perfect story. So I turned to the pen. On the blank page I found that at first my ability and imagination floundered. I was too frustrated because I kept trying to predict what Mark Twain would write if he were the one sitting there holding the pen. It was awful stuff. So I turned instead to poetry. I hated the sickeningly sweet sing-songy stuff I kept getting fed as a kid and thought “I’ll write poems that are dark and perverse, that are sinister and ironic, I’ll write something evil; like the Bible.” Funny as it sounds that’s what I said; I should know I wrote it down in a pact with myself.
It started out with dark and sinister poetry and ever since I have been working on perfecting the dark and twisted side of the short story. I’ve been told I’ve developed my own sort of style. And I enjoy writing what is different from the expected. Sometimes I venture to think I’m even better at trying to entertain and be evocative than others who are out there doing the same. At the risk of sounding cliché, the page, like so many writers have written before me, does indeed give me a kind of freedom that cannot be described and is only felt deeply and wholly. And so I am thus a writer, or at least am addicted to writing and trying to get others to recognize, attend to and perchance even enjoy my words.

The community to which I thus belong is one of vast measure, immense variety and considerable competition. Why in the world would a person want to embark down such a difficult and less than promising road to success? I thought it was hopeless too and didn’t know why I or anyone else should try against such great competition either and so I almost didn’t try. For years I remained a non-competing and otherwise passive underground writer contenting myself to share occasionally with my friends and remaining passively a reader who hides behind pages and in corners. I was content only in that I could sometimes convince a friend to read what I’d written. This led quite consistently to the slow and steady decline of frequency with which I wrote and for a while in college I didn’t write anything at all except for papers and the occasional e-mail.

Writing is what uplifts me so such was my steady decent into depression. Until recently when I met a man who wanted me to share with him all of what I had written. He’d chanced upon my interest in the page in amongst my complete works of Shakespeare book has since wanted me to share with him anything and all things I happen to write. I try to keep his eyes off of my papers but I must admit that it is flattering to find someone who is so enamoured by what I have to say. He has encouraged me to write and to keep writing and has since convinced me that I need to publish. He says, and assures me as he is an avid reader and knows well what is out there to be read, that I am capable of pulling in profit on my creative writing. With his support behind me, his encouragement, inspiration and advice I have begun to, for the first time in my life, consider getting published seriously.

Controversy (history too)
Since looking into it I have discovered that it is a process much harder than it appears. Getting published is far more than write, edit, edit, edit, edi… … … present to a publisher, edit, edit, edit, edi… … … get signed, and see it go into marketing, print and distribution. No! As publishers get multitudes of volumes every day, a writer must first make a name for themselves to get the publishers to look at word one of their work. This used to be done by getting published in newspapers and allowing others to use your work in their publications if you can even get them to look at you, then if you are lucky enough to get noticed by the right people you might get to submit a small work and you might get published but you have to market yourself right and you have to make sure you are targeting the right audience. Usually doing all this publishing and marketing will not be funded by the publisher either. So publication becomes an out of pocket endeavour and being a writer becomes less of a non-profit job and more of a deficit job.
The internet has offered a more streamlined and more accessible way of doing most of these things. From blogging to being an overseas news correspondent for some web-site or another, the inter net has offered an outlets and a means to the end. New as these concepts are, there are already so many who are cashing in on fame, publication and fortune in these ways. They are riding the surge of writers with crappy things to say in an attempt to shine, stand out, get a job and make a name for themselves. This too is my dream and I’ve even found a few loop holes to the non-profit / deficit problem haunting most writers. E-books are electronic publications which allow for quick and easy zero-cost publishing and they are just beginning to spread like wild fire allowing a multitude of writers to get exposure and make a name for themselves. This is the route I am planning on taking at least at first and this is the thing that may land me the exposure I need, the fan-base I want and that big contract I desire.

Perceived by others:
E-books seem to be causing quite a whirl-wind of concern though. As these book are now in electronic form, a form which is easily cracked and freely distributed, it becomes necessary that an author recognize that whatever they publish via e-book is likely to be distributed without their compensation or consent. This is fine for budding writers who just want exposure, though keeping record of this exposure becomes a difficult task. And this seems to be ok with most of the public who can now get entire books in electronic form and they may not even have to pay for them. The publishers, especially those of paged books are furious. It is a process which is cutting away a large portion of their profits because it is virtually cutting them out of the picture.

In conclusion, my opinion is:
None-the-less, this internet thing won’t go away like the publishers wish it to; the code-breakers will never cease to crack and break the codes to distribute anything they can; and the readers are still reading any thing they can get their eyes on with almost rabid force. This is comforting news to someone like me, who sees opportunity and the hope of actually getting published. Me with my red book clutched tight to my chest and my pillar of support right there behind me the whole way. I am encouraged, I am hopeful and I cling to the stories in the pages like my past, present, like my future depends on lit, because it does.

Suir Feale remembers being ten. She looked for her grandfather where ever she thought he might be. He could have been still adrift at sea, he could have made it to that far off place: “opportunity”, he could been dead, but no matter the odds she had to keep looking. She did. When she had traveled to “opportunity” to find him, she knew that she could not go on without him, he was her only friend in the world when she was younger. Now, having lived in “opportunity” for several years, she has almost given up on finding him. Years ago she gave up on life as she had hoped for it to be and now she merely goes through the routine as if it were only that constant pattern which forced her to live on. Day by day, wishing for death, feeling lost and alone in this noisy world, even the “distraction” she’d set out for herself, the marriage she’s forced herself to go through with was not helping her find or even create a new and true sense of self. She needed her Grandfather, she needed that book.
With a family of her own now in tow, she has grandchildren at her feet and a basket of red books in her arms. The Flea Market they frequent every Saturday attracts rare finds from all over the world, she always finds the red books, she’s always searching for the same one. It is one of a kind and the day she found it, the decrepit old man selling it turned to her and smiled that smile she hadn’t known in years. They had tea together, they talked, they walked and reminisced. Now that she has him there with her, she clutches her past and can finally know herself. She and he are inseparable like past present and future; like motivation, inspiration, and the mind.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Oral Part Three - Oral For Him

Shannon Hollender
3rd Perspective story
517 words
Dr. Heroy
Due: 3/21/06
Oral For Him

Perspective: Part Three

Lying here with her I don’t want it to end. I don’t want the alarm to go off again this morning like every morning and tell me I have to get up and out of bed. I want to stay here with her in my arms. Her body close to me. I smile when I roll the covers off of her, it makes her press her bare skin against mine for warmth. I always turn to kiss her when she does this; this morning like so many others, she’s already fallen back to sleep.
The alarm going off means we have to get started again, it means we have to do that morning routine thing all over again. I dread that damn alarm, telling me we can’t snuggle anymore, but the sooner we get started the sooner we get to hold each other again tonight. Besides what she says is her least favourite part of the routine, the dentist says is good for her teeth. We have to do it. I’m there with her the whole time giving support and comfort, if I don’t talk to her the whole time she rushes it too much and stops too early.
Her hair is a mess but I love it, I love her! That make-up caked face, you know the kind, is the only thing I don’t like. I don’t know why she even wears any makeup, she’s beautiful without it. The mascara leaving her with raccoon-eyes isn’t the most attractive thing in the world. Her eyes alone are more beautiful than anything any make-up and products can do to her. I smile to see her face, even so dead with sleep in the morning.
Getting started this morning, she asks me again, like every morning, if I’m ready. I look at her and she looks up at me, she doesn’t need to ask, she can see that I’m up and ready. We get started and are soon in the middle of it. Her bent there in front of the mirror excites me. I smile at her and she catches my grins. It pleases her to see me so happy, it shows in the way she begins to go deeper and faster.
Mmmm… I like seeing that. Her bending there, even though she makes faces at it and the taste of it. I do so love when she puts it in her mouth and with that in and out motion she begins to shake her ass. I like that part, it makes this routine so much more enjoyable for me. I have to taste it too you know, after all we are lovers, we do kiss. She says she doesn’t like it so much, but the occasional sly grin and the exciting sounds she makes alerts me to the reality of it. She complains about it but she loves it, she loves me.
When it’s done she spits in the sink in a final gesture of frustration and distaste; half-heartedly rinses off her toothbrush, kisses me, and says to me, while smiling that smile of hers: “Good morning Darling.”

Post for 3-20-06 - Oral Part Two - Oral From Her

Shannon Hollender
2nd Perspective story
529 words
Dr. Heroy
Due: 3/21/06

Oral From Her
Perspective: Part Two

The alarm’s going off again and again. What makes that grating sound worse is what it means. It means I have to get started again, it means I have to do it all over again this morning, just like last night. It wouldn’t bother me so much if it went like it did the first time, new, exciting… It’s less of a thrill now and more of a ritual; it is painful, grotesque, morbid. I stare at it, I know I have to put that in my mouth any moment now and it disgusts me. Maybe I should get a new one. New was rejuvenating to the process before, why shouldn’t it work now? A new one would be firmer and more ready. A new one would taste different. Every morning, every night, the stroking, the sucking, the repetitive oral penetration. It would be like it was before I got bored of it with this one; disgusted by it and its bristly poking. And with it all that awful, disgusting, almost-makes-me-wretch taste of it. No amount of Listerine ever makes it go away either. Baking-soda and vinegar that’s what the taste is… it is supposed to be good for me? It is supposed to be good for us? I dread it now. We're in a rut... it’s the monotony that makes it so awful!
You see, it starts off for us the same way every day, he is awake before the alarm sounds off, he rolls away from me like he’s not going to hear it when it does go off. It wakes me up when he does because the covers get wrenched from me and the cold air of morning is killer on bare skin. The alarm then sounds to mark the morning and the beginning of our ritualistic torture session. I grab the tool and head for it. I mean might as well get it over with as soon as possible right? I think he’s not as averted to these morning affairs as he says he is because in no time he’s up and ready to go.
I put it in my mouth and the back and forth motion as perverse as it sounds isn’t that bad, it’s not like it really reaches the back of my throat. Sometimes it does and sometimes I slip and it shoves really deep making me gag. But that’s so seldom that it really isn’t something to be concerned with.
Meanwhile, he’s standing there. How can he put up with it? Look at me! I’m a mess! Me bending here, him standing there… It’s like we’re part of some crazy circus act that has dried up. This, our everyday practice, I used to like it. It started the day off right - or at least it used to. It was firmer then. Now it doesn't excite me anymore; now, mournfully, I'm dulled and even bored by it. I feel disgusting and ugly. Prostrate here in front of him I feel like there’s no reason to keep doing this. All I want to do is wash off my face and wash out my mouth. I dread having to do it again tonight.

Sunday, March 19, 2006


Prewrites one and two are freewriting and an outline. Both are to be typed into the pc at convenience...

prewrite one: Freewrite

I love this man, I love him so! I didn’t realize how much we were meant for each other until I realized not that we had so much in common; we both live for books, stories, the written word; but that we were the counterbalance for each other’s passions. I want to write, I live on writing, and he wants to read, he is an insatiable audience for me. What’s best about it is he actually likes what I have to write. He is curious about me and is interested in my stories. Thanks to him, I now have an audience, and without an audience, I would find it impossible to write. So with him as my “muse” I find myself compelled for the first time in many, many years to write again. It’s not so much that he is an actual muse, he does not inspire me to write, he does not literally hand me ideas on which to write, though some of the things we’ve shared are certainly worthy of the page, it’s more that he grants me the sense of justification I need to feel that indeed I am right to write. I feel no reason to, no compulsion other than my own whim to write without him, and I feel that my desire to write is not enough to justify my actually going through with it and actually writing. Where is the point to this? SImply: I plan on publishing a book now, well more seriously now. And so, with his support I find it prudent, and at this point more viable to actually publish now. I have the plans in the works to begin the process of publishing my first book via e-book. I'm even doing research on the controversies involves in this process and what I'll need to know, consequences, and every step of the process of doing this successfully.

prewrite two: Outline

Entered into pc on: 3/22/06

E-books and the Distribution Factor
Intro: Hook
History: Personal Involvement
Controversy (history too)
Perceived by others: (Maybe include sub-sets, consult time restraints)
The publishers see these things:
The people (readers/customers) see these things:
The authors see these things:
And the shared opinions are…
In conclusion, my opinion is:

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Post for 3-19-06: Another excerpt from "Strikinen"

Let me start again...

I start again in an effort… effect… rather in an attempt to clarify some things for you. It's not like I woke up one day and said to myself: “Hey I'll tell you all about what has happened here,” certainly not, it was more of a gradual realization I assure you. Even as I tell you this, I am in fact rather realizing many truths for myself that I had not realized before. Life. Death. It’s as if as I explain to you; the circumstances as they have arisen and the consequences, as if I’m just now realizing what evil spells in a mirror… I’m sorry, I should really stick to clear English; It’s just that it is really hard. I have no clue what is happening. All I know was that it started out for myself, even now I’m kinda proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish while I’ve been here. As it turned out, and of course I get to look at it with hind-sight, everyone got what was coming to them for being like that, even me. Here I am looking at the past to figure out the end and now it’s my turn at bat. As they did, as these things have happened, to me and to them, wherever they are now; I so, shall relate them.
The reality is that memory tends to hide things from us, but as we recollect them, they become more apparent. For me, with the recall, I embellish, most people do, or at least I tend to; but this, as it happened is so wild that no amount of embellishment could possibly make it any better. Besides I’m a terrible liar and a terrible story-teller; I could never make something like this up. As it were; you: my diary, I: your entertainment as well as your torment, it was the thing that happened yesterday that made me come to you with my story really. Everything happened yesterday and as yesterday would have it: I assure you none of this is a flashback, I for one and you with your blank pages neither of us can know what is in store for the morrow.

So again I begin and again.
I will do a thousand beginnings. More or less of them may fall onto the paper until lady luck, life and fate will decide this chapter must close.
Meanwhile do what I do: Live, Love, and Read On:

I'm not a very superstitious person. At least by the definition I get from those I have encountered. Yet as it were, I must confess that today, now, this time and every time since it happened, I find myself doing just as he did. Ever since I witnessed it turn his luck, I vowed my progression of fortunes would change too. I’m not too good with vows usually, but I’m determined to follow in his footsteps.
I’m sorry I should probably explain this to you: He and I were lovers once, almost twice actually, he kept crawling back for more and I kept turning him down. I wanted him to care, until I realized he really did, that was when he put the gun to his head. Now he’s my reformed Drug-Addict turned Jail Bird of two years. He has a wonderful singing voice too, especially when he’s drunk. You wouldn’t think of him as romantic, I’m listening to myself rant about him and I can’t possibly think of him as the romantic sort, beer gut and all. But I guess fortunately, (or unfortunately as fate would have it,) I saw the sweetness in him, the caring and compassion in him and I haven’t been able to forget it.
He had a tradition, I guess that’s how superstitions start, with traditions. As I recall he punched the gas pedal and exclaimed aloud as he sped towards the intersection "Lady Luck be mine now!" I was in the seat beside him and in the seat behind us was our oh-so-dear comrade Dare: Fearless leader as he is and drugged as he was. In his full glory he rooted on and breathed deep what was for him and what may have been for all of us, our last breath. It was well known that collision corner - as it is often called anymore - has a history riddled with accidents. All of them arisen from circumstances much like the ones we are currently engaged in. It is one of those places, what would by any definition be considered a fairly busy intersection. The odds were three to one that at any point you may expect to see two or more vehicles passing through the intersection at the same time at the discretion of no lights signs or matters otherwise. No doubt about it: he intended to run us through the intersection which had been known to do no less than kill those attempting the same, just for a cheap thrill. Should-have’s and should-have-not’s they’re all bombarding my brain right now. To say the least I should have been jittery. I should have been nervous. I was just a kid when this all happened. I should have needed something to calm my nerves, but I didn’t. I really didn’t because I really didn’t realize what was going on until It happened.

Post for 3-18-06: Jealousy

A poem I worked and re-worked for a couple hours the other day. It's still pretty bad, but it feels better than it was.

By: Shannon Hollender

I know your taste well
I breathe deply your Poison, your pain
It’s as if your image, your way
becomes me and
I try to rid myself of the
Beauty that is you
Your influence Your touch
Burns away my whole and leaves
Me without wit. Confounded.
I am confined, content to keep you
To hold your warmth,
Wanting desperately to throw you
your beauty your influence, your poison
from my life
Away, Be gone, and leave me no more
But you, thrown, Still are here
at my feet. Weeping; Wanting.
And though I know you are bad for me
I want for you, I breathe you deep
And will not banish from my mind
Others just as kind.
And I hope your favour to find
Mine alone Evermore

Post for 3-17-06: "Strikinen" excerpt

He asked me if I wanted to give it a swing. He had to ask me twice, I’d zoned out and didn’t hear him ask the first time. I felt a rush of shame looking at his face then, melting from excitement to realization that I really didn’t care. It’s not that I didn’t care, I just got distracted and lost somewhere along the way while I was listening. I smiled at him and said “Could I?” and his face lit up again. He stood me up and was close behind me, holding my arms and hands in his. I felt warm and excited. So did he. He walked me through how to stand and the angles at which to swing. The Old bat felt heavy. Aluminum bats nowadays are so light and hit so gently in comparison to the old ones. After he was sure I’d gotten it, he ran back to the car and trotted back to my side with a ball. It almost brought him to tears he was smiling so hard. He was so excited about actually getting to play ball again. I told him I wasn’t any good and not to expect anything. He stood a few feet in front of the pitchers mound, said he was compensating for his low throws. and he threw me one hard. I jumped. Dare broke out in laughter from the safe distance of the car. I smiled at Day as he told me to just go through the motions he’d shown me. On the next throw I did, and almost took his head off with the return ball. He was happy about it. Told me to be a bit more forceful with it this time. He lobbed me another and it hit the dirt before it got to me. Dare just kept laughing. Finally, after a few hours of swinging, coaching and chatting I sent it out of the park. Day was proud of me, but he knew I really wasn’t to blame for it. I was proud of him and we went to get some pizza.
Romance, something as simple as indulging someone’s passions for a few hours and they’re in love with you. I knew I’d make the mistake again with Day though. He was just so passionate under that hard shell of a facade he put up. He was passionate about sports and guns, books and chess. He liked to stay up late on moonless nights and name the constellations. He was a boy-scout and an avid bug collector. He knew more species of butterfly by heart that most books I’ve picked up. I found this out when I shared with him by passion of bird-watching. I a huge fan of raptors and it got him started on birds that eat butterflies. He’s not the kind of guy you’d think he was though. He liked to make you think he was into booze, women and video-games. That was all he wanted you to think, and he was into those things, but it was nothing like lisening to his go on and on about the plight of the Polyphemus Moth during mating season. He’s a sucker for blue too.

Post for 3/16/06

*which narrative engaged you the most and detail what seemed so engaging?

The Kili narrative engaged me modt and it was because of the vivid discriptions of her reasoning, reactions and bodily functions.

*examine literary style...which sentences, words, descriptions, overall concepts did you find particularly appealing? Pull them and quote them (and tell us which pieces they are from).

the phrases and the style evident in the life remembered piece, phrases like knife-thin, the gleam of a lantern, vanishes like smoke, and there is a haunting turn of phrase: Education, it is said, is the light in the eye. There is no such light in her.

*separate the example narratives into "personal narrative" and "biographical narrative".

Didn't get to this question in class... sorry

post for/from 3/15/06

Shannon Hollender
Prof. Malesh
Draft 2 of Controv. Ppr.
Due: 3/15/06 (12am)
E-books and the Legal Factors

The notion that the internet is a very valuable tool for so many endeavors is generally accepted by the world. It is a device, a concept in practice which affords a large portion of the world the chance to express themselves, to hear, to be heard and to learn. The famous song: “It’s a small world after all” is one which comes to mind when thinking of the concept behind the internet. “What is this concept?” you ask; it is this: The internet brings so many that are so far apart to each other’s fingertips. The sheer size of the net and its all inclusive nature allows people who would not normally be able to interact to communicate information, knowledge and to share with one another what they normally would not be able to share. Convenience is the recognized goal and the internet has made it convenient for all who can use it to find and experience a plethora of new ideas. Writers and the literary community have seized this opportunity (the internet) as their own to share with the world their words, works, names, and ideas. This brings to light the concept at hand. The notion of the e-book is an electronic copy of a work of literature in a form that is easily and quickly shared with the masses. Its digital form is one that facilitates convenience though it often needs to be read on a special device or with a special program on one’s computer. The convenience of them has led to the wide-spread utilization of e-books and the subsequent debate is seemingly a no-brainer, seemingly. For those who aren’t entirely up to date on this closet issue let me here try to present you with a few of the facts concerned within. The benefits of the e-book are that a writer who would not normally be able to publish or distribute their work may do so. The other side of the coin is that with this convenient distribution is that many more writers are in danger of having their works plagiarized. This, thereby, is the debate at hand: E-Books; are they good or are they bad; for who and why?
The literary world is comprised of writers / editors, publishing houses and of course the customers. The readers, writers, and those pesky middle-men the publishers will all be considered and consulted here respectfully. The readers (or customers) are the ones who are at the center of the controversy in this community. As was said before this is by using e-books with both good and malicious intent, this will be addressed more thoroughly in later, more appropriate sections of this paper, but for a brief over view now; the community is concerned with the sharing of ideas, stories and knowledge in the form of e-books via illegal copies or illegally obtained means.
The majority of the people who are considered part of the literary community are interested in either protecting the right of the consumer to obtain and re-distribute works or in preventing the free and unregulated distribution of e-books and their respective works. Students for example read for the acquisition of knowledge, write for the distribution of knowledge – though usually for their professor’s eyes in order to acquire a good grade, and from time to time they copy and distribute their works and the works of others for their peers to review. And in the midst of engaging in these very activities, they are often engaging in the thick of the controversy addressed herein. As one can discern, this controversy affects more people than realize it. Everyone who types their ideas into digital form is potentially affected by this issue.
According to the US Government and law, it is illegal to copy or distribute works of any sort to others without clear consent of the author or without paying said author compensation for use of their works. Keeping this in mind, it seems, is the only way of wading through the emotions and tensions that arise from this heated debate.
With the advent of computers and their software technologies there has been a considerable amount of justifiable concern surrounding the realm of copyright, infringement, and piracy or plagiarism. In response to this hot topic of late, a law was passed in 1998 called the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. The DMCA in a nut shell serves, to wall in and protect copyright and to punish “those who seek to breach that protection.” –Scarlet Pruitt digital correspondent for CNN. This means that companies and publishers are allowed to put so-called “locks” on the books they distribute allowing them only to be read by certain corresponding programs and in certain ways. Since the public still wants the digital books to be available for their convenience and leisure, companies such as Adobe have invested in putting locks on these digital books to prevent copyright infringement. This means that Adobe e-books are only readable by Adobe e-book reader programs. Producing and subsequently distributing any program which allows one to retrieve the text from an e-book and re-distribute it without the locks thereby has thereby become illegal. Enter now into the debate a Russian who did just that:
“Dmitry Sklyarov was arrested in Las Vegas on July 16, 2001, and charged with trafficking in, and offering to the public, a software program that could circumvent technological protections on copyrighted material, under section 1201(b)(1)(A) of the U.S. Copyright Act, which was made law by the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act (the DMCA).” –Electronic Frontier Foundation
He sold only seven (7) copies of the program in the US and one of those was bought by Adobe, the corporation whose version of the e-book encoder he had cracked. Subsequently Adobe filed a complaint and had Sklyarov incarcerated.
What this means is: That digital rights need to be managed reasonably which is and ha been the case for hard copied works. Aside from a person photocopying every page, publishers have previously had unconditional rights and control over the sales and distribution of copyrighted works. With the advent of digital means Digital Rights Management (DRM) has become a hot button issue in that it has become “trivially easy to copy, [anything] without paying for [it]” –Brad Templeton, E-Book publisher and correspondent.
This debate as it is perceived by the outside world is one which really has no bearing on life and the pursuit of happiness. If people are going to illegally distribute books or anything else for that matter, they’ll do it, and there really is no way of stopping them in this case because there really is no way of proving it. People don’t care. And that fact is the big problem underneath all of this, a problem which has thus-far stumped the majority of the literary world and left free distribution unchecked. However the publishers are researching and problem-solving and investing heavily (an estimated 3 billion per year) into this problem of unchecked distribution in hopes of finding another answer relatively soon. This so they may retain a firm grasp on large amounts of profits which are otherwise being withheld from them. The problem, in the meantime still remains, authors are still publishing and still not getting paid much for it; and the public is still reading and frequently reproducing and re-distributing much of the work being put out there.
The issue of the reproduction of copyrighted materials is, logically, the best place to begin in order to understand the different stand-points, controversies and opinions at the center of this e-books debate. It is ultimately the people who are shaping this debate and how it will be handled. They are the ones who are infringing the copyrights of others and who are making the laws to disrupt these activities necessary. They should not redistribute a book they purchase to the population for their own profits or devices but they still do. When Stephen King published his book “Riding the Bullet” in an e-book only version in 2000, according to Gigalaw, even though he had it selling for only $2.50 per copy, within hours it had been unlocked and was being distributed illegally on several sites for free. This attests to the tendency of people to get away with things when and where they can. It is this very nature that requires laws be put into place and some form of control be formulated. The publishers say this: that pirating works takes no effort, no money and no time. As these issues add to the fact that pirating is inherently wrong, what the publishers and distributors are concerned with instead of protecting the works themselves is how this activity deprives the pockets of legally backed corporations and how they should go about ensuring the shut-down of any site which illegally distributes copies of these works. These distributors don’t care about the authors’ compensation or about copyright, unless it applies to their legal right to compensation. All they see is distribution and profit margin. All they seem to say is that it is wrong to reproduce any literary work for any reason without giving due recompense for the work to the owner of the rights of the work. This concept was made law by the DMCA and serves to further the issue down the path that won’t fix it. What needs to be done is there needs to be better ways of controlling the works and materials themselves.
Figuring out how to control the reproduction and distribution of e-books is therefore the next logical issue to address. All the parties involved in this debate seem to have issues they want addressed, be they freedom issues or just an annoying and often sassy form of “do it my way” bossiness.
The authors say that they wrote the book, and if it is getting publicity and distribution; they believe they should be justly compensated for it.
According to the distributors, if a person didn’t pay for the work, they shouldn’t have it. More often than not, however, the authors disagree and will pursue publishing their works in these electronic forms and distributing them freely in order to obtain publicity. Such is the nature of such a competitive market. For instance, according to Bob Pimm of Gigalaw, e-books had been in distribution for a decade and were generally unheard of until Stephen King Published an e-book only story in 2000. You could say that this publication is what set the ball in motion by bringing to light the problems and controversies with digital rights management. Control measures were therefore put into place, encryption codes were made more complex, and the publishers, believing it is wrong to circumvent control measures, placed on literary works, locks and programming restrictions which allow for e-books to be read by only certain programs. The issue raised here is that a person who purchases a book legally has a right to do with that book what they please, this is the purpose of the fair use clause in laws concerning copyright.
Due to this belief on behalf of the publishers they further their position by postulating that it is therefore wrong to possess, develop or sell any digital tool which allows for the circumvention of these locks and programming restrictions. They poured so much effort into convincing others of this belief that when the DMCA made it law that getting around the locks on e-books was a punishable offense, two years before the issue officially came to a head, it was the case that “so far no other country in the world has a copyright law as outrageous and restrictive […] In fact, in [other countries] it's illegal to design a scheme that prevents private citizens from making copies of media for their own use.” This according to Neil McAllister of the online version of the San Francisco Chronicle newspaper. Moreover, even in our own laws there is contradiction on this issue. The fair use clause of the copyright act or more precisely Title 17 Chapter 1 states that in our country as well it is the right of the citizen to “the fair use of a copyrighted work, including such use by reproduction in copies.”
The Fair Use Clause seems to be the double-edged sword in this debate as it consistently imposes limits on what control measures can do while at the same time it practically requires an author to give up their right to their work to control measures in the form of publishers and or distributors. Due to this provision in the laws the authors all seem to hold the general belief that if they were paid for their work; unfortunate as it is, they no longer legally have any right to control what is done with it unless they want to distribute it themselves. This seems like a viable option until one tries and finds it nearly impossible to publish without the support and backing of a large, legally free corporation. Legally speaking this is what they must believe or they are not going to distribute at all. According to Bob Pimm of Gigalaw, a lawyer and a journalist, “The National Writer's Union publishes contracts for electronic publication that seek to protect author's rights [but even these reflect] the decree that publishers of collective works are not permitted to revise an author's individually copyrighted work without receiving a license or express transfer of rights from the author.” This means that even is an author wants their local paper to publish something they wrote, by law the paper must purchase the rights to the piece and the author must sell it.
The consumers seem to want to share a book they own without all this legal requirements and mumbo-jumbo attached to it. And when it comes to books in digital form or not, by law, they have every right to do so. They paid for their copy, it has become, according to the fair use clause as cited by Cornell Law School, their right to use and distribute the work whether for commercial or educational purposes. Furthermore where digital information is concerned the people also have right to keep a back-up copy in digital form. No matter where they choose to keep this copy. So for a clearer view of the discrepancy, according to the DMCA it is illegal to circumvent control measures designed to prevent a person from freely using and distributing a book that person owns but according to the fair use clause in the older law Title 17, it is the legal right of the owner of the material to do with it what they please by “fair use [provided they] consider […] the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.” - US CODE: Title 17,107
My opinion on the matter is this: That I am undecided about whom to side with. I do, however, cite something that I ran across in doing my research as being so very true and as being the summation of the debate in its entirety. Perhaps this may be the answer to the problem, perhaps it is delusional, but I believe it is true.
“The publishers of ebooks need to put fewer barriers in front of the reader, not more, so it's bemusing that some have put such a strong focus on DRM. Those who release books in open formats that can be read anywhere do face more illicit copying than they would find in the paper world, but in many cases they also get more sales.” –Brad Templeton
In summary: the debate rests heavily right where it began; the internet is a vast and immensely powerful too. With such great power comes great responsibility and most of the boobs that use the internet, especially in this area, are not responsible enough to not break the law. Especially when they can turn a profit from it somehow.


“Limitations and Exceptions to Copyright and Neighbouring Rights in the Digital Environment: An International Library Perspective” IFLA, Committee on Copyright and Other Legal Matters (CLM) 22 Feb. 2006 . February 2002
“Petition to Abolish the Digital Millenium Copyright Act” 22 Feb. 2006 .
"US CODE: Title 17,107. Limitations on exclusive rights: Fair use." U.S. Code Collection. Cornell Law School, Legal Information Institute. 5 Mar. 2006 .
“US v. ElcomSoft & Sklyarov FAQ” EFF 27 Feb. 2006 . February 2002
Dinsmore, Alan; Sajka, Janina; Schroeder, Paul; “Comments to Library of Congress, 2003: AFB Seeks Exemption for Literary Works” 22 Feb. 2006 .
Eamonn Neylon “First Steps in an Information Commerce Economy Digital Rights Management in the Emerging E-Book Environment” D-Lib Magazine Volume 7 Number 1 27 Feb. 2006 . January 2001
Hilden, Julie; “The First Ammendment Issues Raised by the Troubling Prosecution of E-Book Hacker Dmitry Sklyarov” 23 Feb. 2006 .
Hodes, Laura, “Adobe's reversal of its Position on the "Hacker" That Cracked its E-Books: Proof That The Digital Millenium Copyright Act Needs To Change” 27 Feb. 2006 . August 2001
Jay, S; “How To Protect Your e-books From Piracy And Copyright Infringement!” 22 Feb. 2006 .
Lloyd, Rich; “Electronic Rights: What is a Book?” 22 Feb. 2006 . 2002
McAllister, Neil; “Thursday, Civil Rights or Copyrights? Hack an eBook, Go to Jail” 22 Feb. 2006 . August 2, 2001
McCullagh, Declan; “The Struggle over Intellectual Property” 22 Feb. 2006 . August 6, 2001
Moohr, Geraldine; “The Crime of Copyright Infringement: An Inquiry Based on Morality, Harm, and Criminal Theory” 22 Feb. 2006 .
Pimm, Bob; “Authors' Rights in the E-Book Revolution” 22 Feb. 2006 . October 2000
Pruitt, Scarlet; “Four years on, digital copyright law revs up”, 22 Feb. 2006 . February 2002
Templeton, Brad; “An E-Book Publisher on why the U.S. Attorney should free Dmitry Sklyarov”, 22 Feb. 2006 . December 2005

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Oral - polished/edited - 517 wrds

Most men would die for a woman to do it to them. Every morning, every night, the stroking, the sucking, the repetitive oral penetration. I dread it now. We're in a rut... this monotony is painful now.
It starts off the same way every day; the alarm goes off and she rolls over to me. I know I shouldn't be complaining, most men would kill for a woman who enjoys it – little death; for a woman who is willing to put them in her mouth so often, so long, so well... This, our everyday practice, I liked too. It starts the day off right - or did. I was firmer then. Now it doesn't excite me anymore; now, mournfully, I'm dulled and even bored by it. She reaches for the alarm and turns it off. Then she reaches for me. Ugh! Look at her! That gnarled matting she wears on her head. It's hard to imagine that is hers. It's disgusting. And her face! Where is the beauty I knew?
When we first met she was ravishing. Was all that really just a thick layer of products? Is the woman I met sitting in compact-cases and lip-stick tubes in a bag across the room? Is what I thought I knew as her, nothing more that the product of these products - a composite of canisters, plastic cases and powdered, liquefied lies? Reaching for me as she does, I find myself dreading it now, those dead, mascara-laden raccoon-eyes of morning and those dry hands. The torture! That morning-breath! Why do I have to be the one to tolerate this - to perform in the midst of it? Why must I be firm? Why must I measure up? This is a daily, ritual, sacrifice. She uses me!
Every morning; every night; it’s the same thing. I'm here with her; I loved her but don't anymore, I'm not sure she loves me anymore either. There is no more vigor in it; no more pleasure. She no longer pours her heart into it. As she gets on with this routine of ours; same as last night - same as now, she rushes it. She goes through the motions, bent there before me and I find myself repulsed. I can't look at her ass anymore. I can't look at her face either; I try to not feel myself inside that warm cavity of hers. In this relationship I'm the abused one. Just like the others; she has gotten bored of me, she has nearly used me up, and soon she will discard me just like the others she has gotten bored of. Just like she will with him, the next in line. How can he love her? I thought I was different. I thought I could last. He thinks he can too. She’ll break him like she broke me. She spits me out; even washes my taste out with – of all things – Listerine! She’ll clean me off heartlessly and as she seems to have no further use for me, she ignores me until evening comes and I have to do it again.


The quiet of the night strikes me. It's gotten to the point, this routine has, that I wake up sometimes an hour, and sometimes a half-hour before the whole ordeal begins – dreading it. Most men would kill for a woman to do it to them. Every morning, every night, the stroking, the sucking, the oral pulsations. And I dread it now. We've fallen into a rut, a pattern... this routine, in its monotony, is painful now.
It starts off the same way every day; with the alarm going off and her rolling over to look at me. I'm the one right next to the alarm; she has to get through me to turn it off. That's what she wanted, that's the way she keeps things. She set it up that way on purpose.
It's hard to imagine why, but she did it on purpose because at first she enjoyed it – I know, I shouldn't be complaining, most men would die for a woman who enjoys it – little death for a woman who is willing to put them in her mouth every night, every morning, so often, so long, so well... This, our everyday practice, I liked too. One could say that it starts the day off right - or did. I was firmer then. Now it doesn't excite me anymore; now, mournfully, I'm dulled and even bored by it. She reaches for the alarm and turns it off. Then she reaches for me. That gnarled mess of a frock she wears on her head. Look at her! It's hard to imagine that mess of hair is hers. It's disgusting. And her face! Where is the beauty I knew? When we first met she was ravishing. Was all that really just a thick layer of the products she uses? Is the woman I met sitting in compact cases and lip-stick tubes in a bag across the room? Is what I thought I knew as her, nothing more that the product of these products - a composite of tubes, canisters, plastic cases and powdered, liquefied lies? Reaching for me as she does, I find myself dreading it now, those dead, mascara-laden eyes and those dry hands. Oh God! And that morning-breath! Why do I have to be the one to tolerate this - to perform in the midst of it? Why must I be firm? Why must I measure up? This is a daily, ritual, sacrifice. She uses me! Every morning; every night; it’s the same thing. I'm here with her; I loved her but don't anymore, I'm not sure she loves me anymore either. There is no more vigor in it; there is no more pleasure in it. She no longer seems to pour her heart into it. As she gets on with this routine of ours; same as last night - same as now, she seems to want to rush it. As she goes through the motions, bent there before me I find I can't look at her ass anymore. I can't look at her face either; I try to not feel myself inside that warm cavity of hers. In this relationship I'm the abused one. Just like the others she has gotten bored of me, she has nearly used me all up, and soon she will discard me like the rest. I thought I was different. I thought I could last. She’ll spit me out; she’ll even wash my taste out with – of all things – Listerine! She’ll clean me off heartlessly, briefly and she seems to have no more use for me, she ignores me until evening comes and I have to do it again.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Ch 4

This chapter addressed charachter as a specific and subjective and important part of clear concise, interesting writing. Relating the charachters is a concept that stood out in my mind as it is something that I feel I don't exactly seem to know how to do right as of yet. Abstract nominalizations - a term we are now familiar with, also are addressed along with other little rules of sorts that help to clarify your work. SImplification and clarity eem to be the big ideas here and this chapter ends with notes on how complex sentences are clumsy, difficult to ollow and generally don't keep your audience. All of this from the concept of characters and doing this aspect of writing properly.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Part Three: Dad's Perspective

She was screaming, I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't even try to hear me. "Honey, please," I begged her "She's a good kid, she was raised right." I ushered her out of the room, so at least our daughter wouldn't see us fighting. I knew our daughter, she had a good head on her shoulder; she knew right from wrong, and she knew to do the right thing. She knows it! "All kids get into tough situations, it doesn't mean she's succumbing to the pressures. You can't assume..." She hit me.
"Dear, please. You're being irrational, you're being too hasty." She shoved me against a wall, all the while she was screaming, all the while I feared for our duaghter's life. All the while I knew, some how, some way, when this was all over with, I knew I was going to lose her. I was afraid. I wanted to get her out of the house. I wanted to get her away from the kid before she did something brash. I took steps towards her "Easy Dear, calm down, give her the benefit of the dobut..." She screamed things, assumptions, she talked about hiding and lies. I snappd... "Lies? Lies!" I yelled. Hollering, it seemed was the only thing left that would get through to that woman. "You want to talk about lies? What about those broken promises you made to her, what about all the lieing you did to her face, going behind her back! What about when we met? Lieing to your parents, going behind their backs, going around behind mine! Some nerve you have, projecting your life story onto her, she hasn't done those things, you have, get over it!" Wide-eyed she was staring at me, I could see the gears turning in her head, this was either really good or really bad. I went on yelling. "How can you condemn her for supposedly doing what it is that you yourself did for a fact? Where's the proof you have that she's done any of it. You can't prove she's like you. I know she isn't, she's smarter than that!" A lamp flew past my head and shattered against the wall. I had to keep this woman away from our child. ...

To be continued...

Saturday, March 11, 2006

The alarm went off and I thought...

I wanted to write down the idea before I forgot it. I'll edit it later.

Waking up to the screaming, the sound of the electricity buzzing, I'm on the chopping block now and I can't stop the buzzing. The alarm goes off again telling me I should move on. As I shift my position and wait my turn longer I pale to think I should wait longer. I want to break free, I want to run, but here I am trapped and gone. I blindly follow those who've gone before me, it pains me to wait here like them.


revisited 3-13-06:

The Intangible freedom.
The image in my mind, crisp, vivid, inescapable. I'm in line, it's death row embodied. The electric chair awaits me. I close my eyes; visions of running, I try the door, it's locked. The line looms before me; my position shifts; the buzz sound, and I'm another two steps closer. Visions again, I slam into the bars in a desperate attempt to pass beyond them and be free. The buzzing sound and the vivid light. My closed eyes cannot keep me protected from the pain, the sound, the light of another body charring. That smell. Two more shuffled steps closer. Tears flow; what did I do to deserve this? The buzzing sound and the smell of flesh singed. Two more steps. I shuffle along. I'm waiting my turn. I look at the window, bars; bars everywhere! If I can stall, if I can trick them, make the wait last longer, maybe I'll be able to prevent it from happening, one more day, that's all I need. I need the chance to get out of here. Buzz-burn-two-step. Cows in a line, lined up for the slaughter. Wanting nothing more than to escape this dream. Buzz-burn-two-step... nightmare. I'm sitting here incapable of moving, incapable of escaping. I'm screaming inside, trying to wake myself up and the servitude we all share in this... Buzz-burn-two-step... world... I cannot get out! I cannot get away! Screaming, Buzz-burn-two-step, screaming!
I want to break free, I want to run, but here I am trapped and gone. I blindly follow those who've gone before me, it pains me to wait here like them.
Vivid. Inescapable. Incapable. I'm incapable.
The intangible Buzz-burn-two-step...

Friday, March 10, 2006

Part Two: Mom's Perspective

"That Bitch! That Whore! That two-faced little menace of a child!"...
I'd say that the intensity of my words shook me, but I stand by everything I said and did then...

"That daughter of mine is a beastly, unrefined, hostile, slimey, no-good, doesn't-deserve-to-be-called-my-child no good dispicable creature! I know she's done those awful things, she doesn't deserve to be called my child! I brought her into this world I'm going to take her out of it."...

I had every right as her mother to say what I said, to do what I did. I had to say something! I had to do it! I had to protect her from herself and what she was...

"She is a menace and if I let her keep doing what I know she has been doing, that child will never have a chance at a future. I am saving her life! Don't let her tell you I'm ruining it. I am saving her! I'm saving her from herself and I'm saving her from the rest of the world."...

Why didn't he understand? Why didn't he see the writing on the wall? This was serious! And he was sitting here talking about 'the benefit of the dobut'! The girl was reckless! Sure it wasn't right there in front of us... but that's because she was hiding it, she was hiding it all along! Couldn't he see that?...
His yelling subsided, I threw the lamp at him. If words couldn't knock any sense into him I figured I might as well try to.

To be continued...

Part One: Daughter's Perspective (607 wrds)

Another moment in time, another screaming voice in the back of my mind. I want to go, I want to, I need it, I need to go get high or drunk, to bash my head against the wall, Anything! It's got to be better than this, anything has got to be better than the paralysis I feel here. I'm glued to the chair, apathetically staring at the screen, hoping no one notices that the page hasn't changed in hours. At the very least I need a cigarette. That light-headed feeling, that sickening half existence is better than having to deal with this bastardly madness they call reality. I can't move, I'm paralyzed by fear. If I don't move they won't see me, they won't notice me, I need for them to leave me alone. I need to get away from these hyenas. The gross, self-centered malicious bastards! How can they ignore the suffering of others to pursue their own big-headed, idiosyncratic... jus... whi... the...
Oh it's no use, let me try to organize my thoughts for you, let me try to put into some order which may resemble coherence... Bear with me.

Ok here's the scene. I'm sitting here at my computer. I'm desperate. I need to get out of here, and I need to get away from those two freaks without them noticing. What I wouldn't give for a cigarette right now, or even a brick! Something, anything! I just want to get knocked unconscious right now. I just don't want to remember having had to waste any amount of time with them. I can't leave now, they would notice it. I can't leave later, they'll be gone by then and there would no longer be a point to doing so. Will someone please shoot them! ... Good. They left the room. I hope they stay away for a long time, I hope they never come back, I hope I can stop dwelling on it and actually enjoy the peace without them - just for once even. Their haunting words and slanderous phrases irk me and are utterly menacing, disturbing. They yell, they scream, things break. But at least it's not here, not in my life, not right now, now I can actually enjoy the pain and the loneliness. Without them and the turmoil they create, I'm free. I'm free to cry and they won't notice, they won't see me, they won't care and I won't have to worry about them overanalyzing every tear. Sometimes a person just needs to cry you know. Just to let it out... you know? They scream, I hear a thud. More screaming. More bitching. Footsteps. Heavy ones. If I just shrink into the corner and don't move they will leave me alone. They’ll forget about me, they'll leave me behind. I'm the innocent one, the good kid. I didn't do shit to deserve this.
She comes in, grabs me by the arm, I'm jerked across the room in a violent cascade of yelling, screaming and then... I don't remember. The door shuts, I'm looking out at them from my side of the car's window, for once, I'm on the inside, I'm locked into the silence, for once I'm allowed to be alone and for once I don't have to deal with them. For once, for once, I can smile. As I do the strange and painful realization creeps over me, touching ever part of me deep within, molesting me heart and soul. ... I want nothing more than to be near them again. Their absence leaves me in pain, I want them, I need them. And here I am lonely, bound and without them. Why did they do this to me? Why would they leave me here?

To be edited to 500 wrds...

Get Over It

It's been a hell of a day. What about the weather here? And there is always the constant banter and background ranting going on. I shall add to it by saying this: Why ruin the weather by bitching about how ignorant the world is, or how you were mistaken for a High Schooler, how the real world requires you meet deadlines, how no one is responsible and should be and furthermore how you shouldn't be hald to such strict standards because you're "above" it all...
The day is nice, the weekend is here, the people are emerging from their piles of blankets and their holes in the ground, let's all enjoy life before the bugs come out and ruin it... then again as much bitching and bugging as there seems to be going around, it seems the pests were here all along.
So I shall take my own advice and get over it.

Sharing links

Ok I don't often do this but I'm a huge fan of the simpsons and so when I saw this I had to smile, watch it again and share.

Live action simpsons intro - enjoy

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Toleration, Privacy and Eminent Corruption

Been writing all day, I think it turned out ok...

Shannon Hollender
Dr. Joe Beatty
Paper two
Due: 3-9-06

Toleration, Privacy and Eminent Corruption
The assignment I’ve been given and the guidelines I’m bound to require me to give “One argument why Beatty is mistaken to tolerate Pettit” and thus I am bound to do so. But these guidelines in themselves leave me with very little room to move in and so I’m ashamed to say, though this is the most feasible topic to do with any sense of accuracy, it is flawed. My claim is that Beatty should not tolerate Petit.
Who cares? What is at stake? On to this issue in a moment, however I preface it with a relevant, though seemingly irrelevant side note: For those of you reading this who do not know Professor Beatty I offer here a brief explanation of his character as is relevant to the case. Professor Beatty is himself rarely mistaken in my opinion. This is a fact due to him wisdom and age – respectable features if ever there were any in this world, and he is rarely mistaken due to the fact that he is thorough, often visiting every possible angle of an argument and every argument possible in a debate. The man can really hunt down logic and reason. In response to this thorough nature of his, to his far reaching knowledge – beyond the reach of my own; I’m supposed to offer some argument to prove him wrong… and this I fear is not possible. But for those interested in how I plan on doing it and still plan on staying within the confines and requirements of this paper (in other words, those of you who care) – feel free to read on. I debate here not for the sake of the issue, but for the sake of argument and debate, as this paper seems with this particular question to require. Also, those interested in seeing a young mind flounder in trying to prove wrong the Petit case in one argument – you might be interested in reading on as well.
My strategy, though it seems long is to follow the directions as laid out before me and come out with some semblance of a feasible argument that is well put together. This in mind I move on to its relevance and the plan. To attack the thorough logic of such a wise man in one argument is sheer madness, yet this is the requirement of the assignment. Therefore, surely I must have a strategy; musn’t I? I indeed do… as I had stated previously. As you are seeing, my first step is to analyze so that I and my reader thoroughly understand the question and confines of the question I am required to answer. One must know the claim, who cares, the argument and the factors effecting or restricting the argument, thus I provide them (see the next paragraph for the argument). From here my strategy will be to prey that I may come up with some divinely supplied knowledge or inspiration that may either find me some loop-hole or that I will get a good grade based on my adherence to the requirements/guidelines of this paper. Whatever happens there; floundering or divine inspiration, I plan on then attacking my own argument with something Beatty himself would likely state. I plan to appreciate it – as the man is superior and far more intelligent to me, then I plan to reply to this attack as if it really weren’t all that relevant, then in summing up my arguments I will attempt to state why even Beatty himself should find my arguments sufficient and why this my (as the paper’s requirements put it) “adversary” should be satisfied with my argument, then to go against the very requirements of the paper as set out in the question I shall offer (by virtue of the rest of the requirements) any number of “further strong objections” made apparent by the paper that “others would make.” Summing up the argument is then the next step in the strategy as provided by our gracious professor, and I plan on here pointing to or underlining the strongest points in my argument – limited as it may be. From there I can do no more than to point out where I am flawed in my own feeble attempts and to acknowledge what is so unsatisfactory in my attempts at an argument against such a far more experienced and superior mind. My final worries, fears, intuitions and regrets will be stated here as well and there, they are that I will fail this paper for offering a literal translation of this topic and that my “originality” in handling this in a manner unlike the rest of the class logically would or will lead me to fail this course. I only hope you – the reader laugh at me in the process.
The argument – as promised; is one of feeble nature at best. However it is a very good one if one stops to consider it in its entirety. Toleration of Petit on the behalf of Beatty is a mistake because it implies the necessity to be ‘ok’ with the concept of teachers teaching by the mantra “do as I say not as I do.” Professor Beatty himself does employ this mantra with his teaching and in this way is an advocate of those who in actuality do not tolerate Petit as a teacher. He is, as I said thorough and open-minded in that he will offer up any side of the argument which seems solid and will visit each topic thoroughly. This is what he does and this is what he requires one to do in the papers assignments and tests he administers.
As was pointed out in class, a teacher by necessity and by coincidence will inadvertently and in a manner quite beyond avoidance, instill a sense of moral rightness in the children by virtue of their actions and position. It is unavoidable that teachers though often inadvertently do in fact teach morals and values to their students and in light of this truism, no matter the particular issue at hand, it follows that a teacher must be of the particular moral persuasion that the society in which they teach wishes to instill in the students which are being taught. Thereby, it is wrong to tolerate Petit on the grounds that she, in her time, was not of the particular tenor that a teacher in her position should exhibit. She not only was sexually “deviant” by the definitions that applied in her time, but she was also an “activist” in her sexual deviancy bringing it as an issue to light and advocating publicly the acceptance of such generally unaccepted morals and ways. This being said, we must now to consider the strongest argument I can come up with in response and pretend that it is Beatty’s own. I’m sorry I do not do you any justice sir.
This brings to mind the argument that sexual persuasion is a matter of personal choice/privilege and begs to be recognized under the heading of “private” and “privacy” as protected in the constitution. Even though at the time of the issue’s advent, the constitution did not recognize this as true; we must recognize that the issue at hand (Beatty should reject/accept Petit) implores that Beatty do so under current circumstances. Thereby his argument of privacy is at current a valid one. We must also consider that Petit herself brought this issue to public view and thereby waived any right she had to aforementioned privacy. Not so, would say Beatty, she kept her practices confined to the private club and tried to get television exposure for this issue behind the mask of anonymity –though feebly – still so. This is a testament to the fact that Petit would not bring her issue to the classroom or the minds and morals of the children. What follows is this: if Petit does not advocate what is a part of her private life to the children it is not something which is detrimental to her ability to teach and thereby is not something which may be used to ban her from teaching.
Now these being two parts of the same argument – privacy; represent a very dynamic claim, one which for me would certainly be enough to persuade me to Beatty’s side. His being that people who have private lives of questionable morality, so long as they keep them private, should be allowed to continue in doing a job which is unaffected by said private choices. The potential damage this can do to my claim is that it can disband it entirely – such to the point that even the supreme court on the recognition of this issue would even side with Beatty in toleration – and did! It blows my claim completely out f the water; figuratively speaking. So to this I am supposed to reply?...
My reply to this objection – in spite of its strength – is this: I reject this claim on the grounds that no matter how private she keeps her practices, no matter how thoroughly she attempts to keep her private life out of her teaching, as I stated in my original argument, she will be unable to. Inadvertently her moral and sexual open-mindedness will not be something she will be able to suppress. She obviously thoroughly believes that what she believes is right, she wouldn’t advocate it publicly – though anonymously, otherwise and therefore, the argument is one which is irrelevant. Her morals, values and beliefs, as started previously in this paper, previously in class and previously by Beatty himself would affect her teaching. These values being considered “detrimental” to her teaching effectiveness/ability would come through in some way, would influence the children in some way and would support the children acting in a way which is more deviant than the accepted ways of the society. Fostering this kind of rebellious behaviour, the kind that is frowned upon by the society in which the incident occurred, and which is still frowned upon in the sexual laws existent; therefore is unacceptable.
This reply should be satisfactory to Beatty as he is a reasonable man and can appreciate that the argument posed here is one of hypothetical nature and one which addresses all the issues relevant to the argument. Being thoroughly addressed as an argument and as an argument being one which attends to facts and logic, it is to right and logical to assume that Beatty has no choice but to accept that this is a truth I argue for. At least as far as reason takes me. Please don’t fault me for overlooking something which is over my own capacity to see. I cannot say that my arguments are flawless, I do not pretend that they are, but as far as I can see, what is outlines here is indeed logical and true as here presented.
Further objections that others might make on behalf of Beatty are that society today is more open minded in nature and that one’s sexual preferences and persuasions are a matter of privacy and are currently protected under the constitution. And since this issue asks that Beatty under the current society and situation reject toleration of Petit, it follows that he may judge with current societal norms laws and practices in mind. This being said I argue that this debate therefore is not debatable as it boils down to (here) a conflict between state laws and constitutionally protected freedoms. Thus one must, in order to determine societal norms and values, on which one’s decisions need to be based, one must first correct the inherent contradiction found between state and federal law. Further pursuit of this logic reveals that according to the laws laid out in our constitution, the state may grant more freedoms but not less and therefore according to this, by technicality, one should not be sexually discriminated against, making it illegal, at least in the minds of some, to outlaw any particular sexual practices – deviant or not. And this applies to employment and discrimination; which is relevant here. The response thus is that the constitution does not address sexual practices just preference. Practice is left to the states to decide and thusly they have. So again, the discrepancy in law must either be addressed or this debate is incapable of having any validity.
So in summary my argument states, quite logically, that Beatty should not tolerate Petit. This is on the grounds that a teacher who tries to employ the mantra “do as I say, not as I do” is incapable, is a bad teacher and in this particular case, would be advocating practices and a particular open-mindedness which it seems is against societal norms and is illegal in many instances and states. Therefore, taking into consideration all objections, including privacy and sexual preference, it still must be said that Beatty would logically have to not tolerate Petit on the grounds that he himself agrees that no matter how hard one might try, they are unable to prevent their moral values from influencing the children they teach and from here it logically follows that if a person’s moral persuasion can will and does come out in what they teach it must either be in accordance with those advocated by the majority of society or the teacher must not teach. Flimsy at best, I know, but that is the general consensus here visited. The jumps from logical point to logical point need more attention and do not flow perfectly, but with the time-constraints given, it is as logical and clear as I believe is necessary to exemplify the point. After all, we are all intelligent beings here. (Though that is questionable considering the writer of this paper is – after all; a college student.)The limits of my claim lie in the nature of value and societal norms. And it is here that I can see some argument which quells my own coming from. That my argument is so focused on this one issue I believe is also a fault however the paper’s requirements said to visit one argument thoroughly and so I was afraid to offer any other topic if it were not clearly connected for fear of losing points on this paper. There is – for instance, the notion that these children both being so young and being so mentally disabled are especially more vulnerable to the values and teachings that Petit offers – inadvertently or not.
Therefore there is much in my argument that is unsatisfactory and though I believe my claims are solid, there is nothing I can say for/to those who still believe that is right to tolerate Petit. Do you tolerate because you accept or do you tolerate because you believe you have to, or do you tolerate based on the premise that toleration is a must and to tolerate is to see something gas wrong and to still allow it anyway. To the latter of those three I offer this: If you believe it to be wrong, no amount of moral better can ever justify allowing something which is “wrong” to continue to occur. Acceptance and toleration is ok, respect of privacy is ok. However in the school setting, the privacy of students is sacrificed on a daily basis, for instance our dorm rooms are subject to search and seizure at any moment, though we rent them as we would rent an apartment, we still must subject ourselves to these conditions, Petit too, in the school setting must be willing to surrender and relinquish toleration to the notion that a school is a special situation and environment in this country, one which different guidelines apply to. With that I reiterate, Beatty should not tolerate Petit, and I add that Petit should accept this, her lot in life.
And on a final note my worries, fears, intuitions and regrets are that I will fail this paper for offering a literal translation of this topic and that my “originality” in handling this in a manner unlike the rest of the class logically would or will have done, will lead me to fail this course. I only hope you – the reader laugh at me in the process. As a motto I heard comes to mind “Some laughter takes away the Obvious Moral Evils thereby making it all O.K.!” or: some laughter minus the ome makes everything ok.

Thank you for tolerating my incoherence, I hope some of it made logical sense or at the very least contained some semblance of humor. Have a good weekend and goodnight.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Paper for class today

Shannon Hollender
Prof. Mingus
Performance Analysis
Due: 3/8/06
Performance Analysis
“mehitabel has an adventure”
Don Marquis
This piece contains many strong words which require pausing before or after them to accentuate their importance, there are words such as “slicker” which need to be said as you pointed, as more of a hiss. Also some phrases such as “I’m a lady” need to be drawn out as more of a fallacy by gesture and tone. To me, this is the way they can be most effective in performance. The performance requires attention to the emotions in the phrases and the words to be most effective.
The persona as written is as chosen a Jersey accent, with high nasal tones, I went for the mewing cat at midnight abrasive sound, hope the classes wincing doen’t deturr me too much. As the character is a woman I accentuated the maleness in her tough nature with instead a bitchy haughty feel to the persona. My hope is that this works. It seems to fit and work thus far, or at least you said it was ok.
As the location is more a frame of mind than an actual location. The character is as if in a conversation with “archy” and talks about being in the alley or in the country but this is only to be portrayed by the words. Thankfully this is a very well written piece so I need not worry too much about what I have to do in this respect. Trying to over-do it – as you suggested though. Steps to indicate the mistress talking will be taken, hopefully none more though.
A) logical: The logical climax of the piece is when the character meets the “slob” in the bushes – right before the end - and tears him to ribbons.
B) emotional: The emotional climax occurs when mehitabel gets insulted and this point needs to be portrayed as a nervousness and a sense of self-righteousness. This is elaborated in the next and last portion of the piece and is summarized in the fight.
Aesthetic Components:
The aesthetic components of the piece all rely heavily upon the performance and the way the interpreter (me) chooses to speak with her body and her emotions and her tones. There needs to be a certain free-flowing feel with underlying on-her-toes-all-the-time nervousness to the way she re-tells the events but it needs to be balanced out by randomness and a sense of “a free life.”

Ch 3

Style Lesson Three:
Addressed in this chapter are the elements of clarity which can make or break a sentence. Sentence structure is addressed and the main points are that a clear, and concise portrayal of the idea is necessary. Attention to subject and verb is required/requested from the chapter. The issue of nominalization is also addressed. Nominalizations are referred to as abstract nouns derived from verbs and adjectives. The chapter suggests avoiding them save for in a few cases. Analysis and revision are talked about as issues of heavy importance and are to be done on a regular basis/constantly. Clarity, says the chapter is key.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Soooo, Yeah...

So a funny thing happened on my way to class this morning. I come out of my building to discover this. An ohmen from God I took it. I snapped a picture and turned my ass back around and went back to bed.

Yes, Virginia, it's one of those days.

Kindergarten part two

Lloyd didn't like this game, he didn't understand it. There was confusion on his face, and rage. "No, no, NO!" he screamed as he stood up. It wasn't supposed to go like that. He thought boys were supposed to be better than girls at everything. That's how it was supposed to be. Mrs. Spitler, casually looked up from her Vogue magazine. Lloyd was having another one of his fits. This one didn't seem as bad as the others, he was just standing there relatively still screaming incoherent sounds, she told herself she'd put him in the corner for five minutes after she gave him five to let off a bit of steam. Feeling attentive and self-righteous she went back to the pages full of confusing symbols and nonsense pictures. See, Lloyd had seen the book and lots of other books like it and he knew what was in them - nonsense! How could she look at nonsense right now? Patricia had broken his dinosaur! Five minutes later would be too late, no one could have known, not even Lloyd, a kid doesn't know when they snap but really it was going to be too late. He sat there fuming, he stomped his feet and screamed and the other children ignored him. He now did not like this girl very much at all. She had friends, she could play with everyone, no one liked him, he couldn't get anyone to be nice to him. Lloyd had no reason to not reach across the table and punch her in the face. And he thought about it too. She broke his dinosaur... His dinosaur...
He picked up the cookie monster chair. It was his least favourite colour and so he wanted to get it away from him and he wanted patty to pay for her air-born dinosaur tactics. The chair went air-born and hit Patricia. One of the corners had hit her eye and now she was bleeding. Lloyd smiled. He turned to pick up the Elmo chair, he felt strong, like he was winning for once, he liked to know that this time he made her scream in pain. He threw the chair and the blue streaked by her head landing on the table of blocks. Lloyd was mad at his poor aim and so he charged at Patricia intending to knock her down and hit her.
Mrs. Spitler scooped up Lloyd in mid stride and holding him, kicking and screaming under her arm, she carried him to the office telling the old one woman staff that he had to be sent home for fighting.
She knew he had no one to go home to. Same as before. But rules were rules and the child had to be made to follow the rules. He was sent home on the mid-day bus with the older kids who picked on him, when he got there he kicked he dog and crawled under the bed. Lloyd liked it there, there he could plan, there he would figure out how to make it all better. The yipping dog was the only one who shied away from him, who respected him, "violence" he thought, "that's the answer, that's how I'll get them to not pick on me. They'll see, I'll show them!" He lied there waiting.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Review of other student's work

Shannon Hollender
Shannon Davis’ paper
Due: 3/7/06
My general impression of you essay is that you know a decent amount about your topic but that you need to work on the transition and flow of it as well as soiurcing, and elaborating on the information and controversies you did find. It lacks a comprehensive expanse of information. I outlined the questions asked below and how they apply to your paper:

Does the writer clearly id her purpose for writing?
Yes, though it could be more clearly stated and it could be elaborated upon more in the first few paragraphs. After a grammar edit it will only need slight elaboration, so it is good.

Does the Writer adequately summarize the key attributes of the controversy?
It seems that the topic is not very conducive to such concise summarization, though as far as I can tell the controversy is: Homosexual marriage in Va. vs. heterosexual marriage in Va. And the main points are that the dictionary defines marriage differently (a point I had to read the paper three times to understand clearly and see the relevance of) that love is universal, that The governor opposes it, as do protestors, that congress tried to brush it under the carpet, and that we as people are exposed to the notion of heterosexual love only from a very early age on. Students and adults seem to be taking an active stand (on both sides?) and the only argument against it is a flimsy one based on the slippery slope theory.
You need to go more into who holds these two sides’ opinions and why. You also need to flesh out the complexities of the argument, I found none.

Does the writer seem to have a thorough understanding of the controversy?
Thorough? No. But your comprehension shows a sincere effort towards learning something new. Keep researching this hot button debate as of recent. You are bound to find more arguments and better ones at that. You outline political moves to suppress same-sex marriages and you show that there is current involvement by activists on this issue, but you could show more and elaborate better. You could also be a bit less biased – the argument seemed unfair.

The community though outlined, seemed lacking and vague. I would like to see how you are a member of this community and how these two sides are characterized, and perhaps how they are defined by this issue. I didn’t learn anything at all about this debate but I’m at an unfair advantage, I just competed with the Debate team and this was one of the topics to be discussed.

The topic sentences seem short. Too short, too concise and to not flow from idea to idea smoothly. The impression I got was that this was because this is the Rough Draft and requires an edit first. The paragraphs may follow these sentences, but it is difficult to know considering it is difficult to follow the flow of ideas. The last paragraph is better than the rest because it has a lot of information, is very concise and it allows the reader to follow the concept in a relatively smooth manner; the rest, unfortunately seemed like space killers – they needed more information in them.

Source materials need to be listed in near-full at their first mention and only given a quick summary thereafter. One letter citations are useless and ill advised. Appropriate support for most all items is evident in the paper, but more evidence, research and support is necessary to turn this good paper into a stellar one. I as a reader felt less than swayed to either opinion, I walked away feeling as indifferent as I had felt prior to reading it.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Intro and type up of Dramatic interp piece.

You're a great poet,
You're turned into a cockroach,
Your best friend - Mehitabel
is a cat.
She tends to get into trouble,
And tell you about it.
How would it sound,
If you - the poet,
reproduced one of these stories,
as told to you by Mehitabel?
This is the task,
This is the work,
of DOn Marquis with:
"mehitabel has an adventure."

mehitabel has an adventure
by Don Marquis.

back to the city archcy
and dam glad of it
there s something about the suburbs
that gets on a town lady s nerves
fat slick tabbies
sitting around those country clubs
and lapping up the cream
of existence
none of that for me
give me the alley archy
me for the mews and the roofs
of the city
an occasional fish head
and liberty is all i ask
freedom and the garbage can
romance archy romance is the word
maybe i do starve sometimes
but wotthehell archy wotthehell
i live my own life
i met a slick looking tom
out at one of these long island
spotless towns
he fell for me hard
he slipped me into the
pantry and just as we had got
the icebox door open and were
about to sample the cream
in comes his mistress
why fluffy she says to this slicker
the idea of you making
friends with a horrid creature like that
and what did fluffy do
stand up for me like a gentleman
make good on all the promises
with which he had lured me
into his house
not he the dirty slob
he pretended he did not know me
he turned upon me and attacked me
to make good with his boss
you mush faced bum i said
and clawed a piece out of his ear
i am a lady archy
always a lady but an aristocrat will always
resent an insult
the woman picked up a mop and made
for me well well madam i said
it is unfortunate for you that
you have on sheer silk stockings
and I wrote my protest
on her shin it took reinforcements
in the shape of the cook
to rauss me archy and as i went
out the window i said to the fluffy person
you will hear from me later
he had promised me everything archy
that cat had
he had practically abducted me
and then the cheap crook threw me down
before his swell friends
no lady loves a scene archy
and i am always the lady no matter
what temporary disadvantages
i may struggle under
to hell with anything unrefined
has always been my motto
violence archy has always one something
to my nerves
but an aristocrat must revenge
an insult i owe it to my family
to protect my good name
so i laid for that slob
for two days and nights and finally
i caught the boob in the shrubbery
pretty thing i said
it hurts me worse than it does you
to remove that left eye of yours
but i did it with one sweep of my claws
you call yourself a gentleman do you
i said as i took a strip out of his nose
you will think twice after this before
you offer an insult
to an unprotected young tabby
where is the little love nest you spoke
of i asked him
you go and lie down there i said
and maybe you can incubate another ear
because I am going to take one of
yours right off now
and with those words i made ribbons
out o fit you are the guy
i said to him was going to give
me an easy life sheltered from all
the rough ways of the world
fluffy dear you don t know what the
rough ways of the world are
and i am going to show you
i have got you out here
in the great open spaces
where cats are cats
and i m gonna make you understand
the affections of a lady ain t to be
trifled with by any slicker like you
where is that red ribbon with the
silver bells you promised me
the next time you betray the trust
of an innocent female
reflect on whether she may
carry a wallop little fiddle strings
this is just a mild lesson i am giving
you toniht i said as i took
the fur off his back and you oughta
be glad you didn t make me really
angry my sense of dignity is all that
saves you a lady little sweetness
never looses her poise and i thank god
i am always a lady even if i do
live my own life and with that i
picked him up by what was left of
his nack like a kitten and laid him
on the door mat slumber gently and
sweet dreams fluffy dear and
when you get well make it a rule of
your life never to trifle with another
girlish confidence i have been
abducted again and again by a dam
sight better cats than he ever was
or will be
well archy the world is full of ups
and downs but toujours gai is my motto
cheerio my deario
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