<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:44:58.239-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SUPER FUN BLOG</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-8674280906365331357</id><published>2007-05-15T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T20:14:20.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"The invisible skull on the desolate hills of every California town opens its jaws of arranged imprisonments and decapitations.  But, who listens?"(83)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking an abstract concept and abstracting it even further, perhaps this could relate to the 1950's concept of self-deception, where here the people purposefully don't listen to whatever the skull has to say, choosing to believe what makes them feel comfortable and disconnected from the real world in their own little reality.  Or perhaps the author is just stringing silly words together again like he tends to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is Mexico?  Another fast stop for quasi-Beat U.S. middle-class poets to photograph themselves on a literary burro on their way to a Managuan book fair and a backyard hut experience for $800 so they can come back to their sanded-down desks somewhere overlooking the Bay Area and write a feeble twenty-page stroke of masturbation and distortions?"(89)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The author probably has the tendency to look down on people whom he views as 'wannabe' poets and 'unenlightened' people, as evidenced in prior readings and in this quote.  It seems the bad habit of getting on a high horse plagues the narrator, since he is sometimes reminded that he is no better than anyone else for any reason.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-8674280906365331357?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/8674280906365331357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=8674280906365331357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/8674280906365331357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/8674280906365331357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/05/invisible-skull-on-desolate-hills-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-3493550251702005177</id><published>2007-05-15T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T13:58:45.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"The concept is provocative, Vic, archaic, the whole thing about rising from the ashes, dressed in campesino shorts, working off a molcajete, the good ol' Indio Chicano stone mortar and pestle, mixing diverse elements, mashing them into pulp and juice, into a new blood force." (32)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked this quote because I thought it was simply very well written and made good use of literary techniques.   I think that it also makes references to the 'rags to riches' American dream and the mataphor of a melting plot that was commonly associated with American diversity for a while, especially around cities such as New Orleans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was at the bus depot ready to take bus to Tabasco.  But, I decided to catch a flick, miss my ride, see a bit of Cantinflas, and think about my real next move."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reminds me of that poem we read once in class, I think it was by Ginsberg, where the final line included something about going back to the real work.  I think that sounds pretty similar to this line.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-3493550251702005177?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/3493550251702005177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=3493550251702005177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/3493550251702005177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/3493550251702005177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/05/concept-is-provocative-vic-archaic.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-716082781218631674</id><published>2007-05-15T06:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T07:08:34.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Back on schedule.  Eatin' beans and recievin' e-mail.  Makin' love and teachin' class.  Binary option and terciary paths." (65)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like another example of that duality that was oh-so-common in Dharma Bums.  However, the Dharma Bums was almost constantly displaying duality from beginning to end, whereas this is the first example of duality I've found in this book.  However, that could be because half of the documents in this book are barely coherent and the only recurring theme witnesses so far is racism and stereotypes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A tabloid mogul uttering the term &lt;i&gt;compassion&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Republican with a forced Iroquois accent&lt;br /&gt;Zen toilet without a hole or a seat" (72)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I got to these lines, I wasn't quite sure what the point of this writing was.  Now I understand it's simply satire, given the title of this piece is 'Subtleties' and a tabloid mogul uttering the word 'compassion' is easily one of the less subtle things I can think of.  Too bad I still can't understand the rest of the lines, since some of them are written in such an abstract way that only the author knows what he's talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-716082781218631674?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/716082781218631674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=716082781218631674' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/716082781218631674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/716082781218631674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/05/back-on-schedule.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-2794699987296709967</id><published>2007-05-11T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T10:35:17.971-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>""I see you looking at yourself put letters on paper," you said.  All my illusions of being a poet shrank, the wings of an eagle writer that sees all twittered into the shadow of a sparrow, a wavy blot of cold ink on a yellow legal pad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her words put the author back down to Earth, since apparently he had been spending all of his time acting the poet and writing poetry, and she was worried for him and his welfare.  When the author heard her words, he was reminded that there is more to a man than labels, and that he isn't some godly creature looking down upon other denizens of the Earth and gracing them with his wisdom in writing.  In other words, she put him in his place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The sun lanes coming down on the Castro are distributed equally over the Mission District, as the clouds permit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possibly a crack at Communism?  Equal distribution and Castro are terms often associated with Communism and Communistic ideas.  It would be interesting to speak to the author about this particular quote.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-2794699987296709967?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/2794699987296709967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=2794699987296709967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/2794699987296709967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/2794699987296709967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-see-you-looking-at-yourself-put.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-2978224567185727596</id><published>2007-05-08T06:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T06:15:54.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"For the time being, Mama says.  Temporary, says Papa.  But I know how those things go."(748)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fairly obvious foreshadowing.  They're probably going to spend a large chunk of life in that crummy house, deceiving themselves by saying that it's temporary over and over again.  But deep down inside of all of them they know that it isn't just a temporary quick-fix, but something that will stay with them for a very long time.  This kind of harkens back to the other short stories written during the 50's that we read, in that the characters all deceive themselves to some extent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The water pipes broke and the landlord wouldn't fix them because the house was too old."(747)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a crummy landlord.  I wish the author told us if they got their money back or not, because now I'll be wondering about it for a very long time.  Doesn't seem like the entire world is against you sometimes?  I'm sure that that's the feeling these people are experiencing as they move from crappy house to crappier house, always telling themselves that things will get better, they always get better, and they will become better through sheer will of mind and body.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-2978224567185727596?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/2978224567185727596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=2978224567185727596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/2978224567185727596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/2978224567185727596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/05/for-time-being-mama-says.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-4104570051570173221</id><published>2007-05-05T08:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T08:58:28.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"One patient called lemonade "square" because it pricked on his tongue like as a square shape pricked on the touch of his hands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reveals a lot about how the human mind is conditioned to edit our senses so put them together into a single coherent picture.  When we are first born, our senses are all jumbled together and we don't really know what to make of it.  But eventually through trial and error we learn to form a coherent picture as second-nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The phrasing is key here.  The simplest animals PERCEIVE the universe as it is, they don't SEE it as it is.  So maybe our sight prevents us from accurately perceiving the universe and the blind also perceive the world as it is.  However, I also think that not seeing the universe as it is would be is a good thing, because it allows us to make sense of jumbled senses easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-4104570051570173221?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/4104570051570173221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=4104570051570173221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/4104570051570173221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/4104570051570173221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/05/one-patient-called-lemonade-square.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-8305844939536575829</id><published>2007-04-24T05:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T08:31:07.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>". . . during these naked revels, I just kept my eyes closed and listened to the music:  I was really sincerely keeping lust out of my mind by main force and gritting of my teeth." (178)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it interesting that everyone thinks of Ray as the person who is open to learning new things as opposed to Japhy, which would fit in with the theme of duality in the book, comparing Japhy and Ray, calm and craziness, city and nature, good and bad.  However, for years now, Ray has been more or less adamantly opposed to sex and lust, despite everyone else's urgings and reasonings.  Ray refuses to believe that anything good can come out of sex.  sometimes his instincts make him question himself, but he'll always renew his determination.  Either way, the theme of duality in the book becomes inconsistant here.  Either Ray suddenly becomes as stubborn as Japhy as opposed to the flexibility people associate with him, or he becomes as open with sex with Japhy, as opposed to the way he used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But then I'd find something like a dead crow in the deer park and think "That's a pretty sight for sensitive human eyes, and all of it comes out of sex."  (186)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, Ray brings up his strict disapproval and condemnation of sex, with illogical reasoning to boot.  He claims that death is the result of sex, and this is true.  But like I said in an earlier post, life is also a result of sex.  And you can't have life without death, but what a miserable exist the world would be without life.  If there was no life in this world, would Ray be happy?  Of course he wouldn't be happy, he's dead.  So the more he talks about sex and how it's evil, the less I can sympathize and relate with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-8305844939536575829?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/8305844939536575829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=8305844939536575829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/8305844939536575829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/8305844939536575829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-5227637992303960381</id><published>2007-04-17T08:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T08:25:51.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"I don't care," said the old cook, with lidded eyes, and I told Japhy and he said, "Perfect answer, absolutely perfect.  Now you know what I mean by Zen." (16)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't see how this answer explains what Zen is.  I think it might have been an acceptable explanation if Japhy was talking about agnosticism, but not Zen.  Or maybe, on some subtle level, it is about Zen.  Officially, Zen is the belief that you must experience the ultimate truth, rather than learning it from a teacher.  Therefore, you don't need to care about the history of Zen, because it's meaningless in the big picture of finding the ultimate truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Finally he learned Chinese and Japanese and became an Oriental scholar, and discovered the greatest Dharma Bums of them all, the Zen Lunatics of China and Japan." (9)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose Zen Lunatic is another phrase coined by either Japhy or Ray, but I would have liked to have gone into it a bit more and in detail.  What exactly constitutes a Zen Lunatic?  The usage of the word 'lunatic' suggests that a type of militant or fundamentalist Zen movement may exist, or the word 'lunatic' could simply be used to imply that an individual is obsessed with Zen to the point of being unreasonable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"... Samadhi Ecstasy, which is the state you reach when you stop everything and stop your mind and you actually with your eyes closed see a kind of eternal multi-swarm of electrical power..." (33)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The swarming sparks of color Ray is seeing are fatigued cones and rods recovering from staring at one area for far too long.  When you stare at a certain color or a certain area for a period of time, the color receptors in your eyes become fatigued, and when you close your eyes, your receptors will send off misfires that result in a color show at the back of your eyelid.  Same concept as blinking into a bright light.  Nothing spiritually related at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lust was the direct cause of birth which was the direct cause of suffering and I had really no lie come to a point where I considered lust as offensive and even cruel." (29)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lust and sex are basic human instincts which lead to the preservation of the human race.  Does it result in more death?  Logically, yes, since it causes more birth, and everyone must die.  But maybe it causes even more death to not engage in intercourse?  Without humans, the world's food chain and ecosystem will collapse, and most life-forms on the planet will die, resulting in a complete worldwide reform of sorts.  So, is it really all that evil, as Ray tends to feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But it was the evil city and I had my virtuous desert waiting for me." (156)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A recurring theme in this book is the duality in Kerouac's life, the duality between calmness and insanity, the pure and the tainted, and the good and the bad.  In between brief stints of staying in a corrupt and tainted and insane city, he heads out into the wilderness to relax and meditate and contemplate the good and pure in the world.  Immediately after his long afternoon with the Mexicans and the marijuana, which to him is like a bad dream, he heads out into the desert and sleeps under the stars whilst contemplating the roaring silence of the blood rushing through his ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm gonna get married, soon, I think, I'm getting tired of battin around like this."&lt;br /&gt;"But I thought you'd discovered the Zen ideal of poverty and freedom."&lt;br /&gt;"Aw, maybe I'm getting tired of all that" (170)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quote tells me that even the most determined Zen lunatic has trouble becoming a Zen master and sticking with it his whole life.  It's a lot harder than just living through life the same way everyone else is living their life.  All the meditation and koan undoubtedly gets old after a while, and Japhy is becoming disenchanted with his Zen lifestyle because of all the depressing things going on in his life.  Japhy is probably doubting whether Zen is just an idea that doesn't work or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-5227637992303960381?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/5227637992303960381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=5227637992303960381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/5227637992303960381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/5227637992303960381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-dont-care-said-old-cook-with-lidded.html' title=''/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-6107388826512142897</id><published>2007-04-11T20:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T20:53:41.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimmer-Miles-Desire</title><content type='html'>The Swimmer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you want?"  she asked.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm swimming across the county."&lt;br /&gt;"Good Christ, will you ever grow up?"&lt;br /&gt;"What's the matter?"&lt;br /&gt;"If you've come here for money," she said, "I won't give you another cent."&lt;br /&gt;"You could give me a drink."&lt;br /&gt;"I could but I won't.  I'm not alone."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I'm on my way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interesting thing about this quote was that the swimmer seemed to be in a bit of a daze, unaware of the contextual awkwardness of the situation, while his perfectly sane ex-mistress becomes irritable and cautious.  She believes he is there for no good reason, and swimming across the county is a lie.  I believe that the swimmer is the occasional mold-breaker of the 1950's.  Every once in a while, someone breaks out of the mold, but in doing so goes a bit nuts in the head.  Those are all the individualists and counter-cultural figures that came about in the 50's.  They do things we consider insane for reasons we either cannot grasp or reasons we feel are trivial and unimportant in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Persistence of Desire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Poor Janet, Clyde felt; except for the interval of himself--his splendid, perishable self--she would never see the light."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quote is filled with irony.  Here is a man, deluded with visions of how great he is, feeling sorry for a woman whom he thinks can't see how insanely awesome and manly he is.  The only time he thinks her existence is complete is when she is in a relationship with him.  The irony is that she probably feels sorry for him, because he cannot see how much of a shallow and dumb human being he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The poor devil, he had all those letters memorized, all that gibberish--abruptly, Clyde wanted to love him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked this quote because it just jumped out of the blue.  I don't know if the author was trying to screw with my mind or what, but all of sudden this man wants to love another man because the latter has memorized the letters on eye charts.  I can't even find any symbols or connections in it, it's almost as if it was a prank played by the editor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are The Actual Miles?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For a while they didn't know what to do with the money.  Then they put a thousand on the convertible and doubled and tripled the payments until in a year they had it paid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More irony in this quote.  Here, they don't know what to do with a sudden income of money, so out of sheer impulse they bought an expensive convertible for themselves.  A few years later, everything has fallen apart, and the money used on the convertible should have been in the bank, safe and sound.  Unfortunately, this isn't the case, so in a last ditch attempt to avoid bankruptcy, they need to sell the car.  In a way, the moral of the events leading up to this story, and maybe even the whole story itself, is to not go for impulse buys.  The back-story in this short story isn't explicitly stated, and the reader has to connect the dots, which I find is kind of unusual for books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Things are going to be different!" he calls to her as she reaches the driveway.  "We start over Monday.  I mean it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a promise he can't keep, but he doesn't know it.  I think he's only trying to reassure himself that he still has time to start over, that he still has time to forget everything that happened prior to the coming Monday.  But Monday will come, and he will try to start over, only to find that the consequences have shattered his resolve.  He's bankrupt and going batty, and he knows it in the corner of his mind.  He'll deny it and try to repress it as long as he can, but it'll haunt him and bite him in the ass for the rest of his life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-6107388826512142897?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/6107388826512142897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=6107388826512142897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/6107388826512142897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/6107388826512142897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/04/swimmer-miles-desire.html' title='Swimmer-Miles-Desire'/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-7781900560926816636</id><published>2007-03-28T06:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-07T20:14:02.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Death of Justina</title><content type='html'>"'I've never heard such a lot of damned foolishness in my life,' I said.  'Do you mean to tell&lt;br /&gt;me that I can't die in one neighborhood and that I can't fall in love in&lt;br /&gt;another and that I can't eat.  .  .  .'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel that this quote most effectively portrays the kind of frustration formed when governments begin to micromanage things.  It also most effectively portrays how ridiculous this sort of micromanagement is, because no one can really decide where they die or where they fall in love.  Micromanaging people's lives only leads to inconvenience.  Ironic, since micromanagement is generally instated with the purpose of (theoretically) making people's lives easier and more efficient.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-7781900560926816636?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/7781900560926816636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=7781900560926816636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/7781900560926816636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/7781900560926816636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/03/death-of-julia.html' title='Death of Justina'/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035518778192337680.post-8651951140785964269</id><published>2007-03-27T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T06:45:20.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I post on my toast</title><content type='html'>I toast on my post&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;test post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;marquee&gt;WHEEEEEEEEE&lt;/marquee&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5035518778192337680-8651951140785964269?l=spencer-corkran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/feeds/8651951140785964269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5035518778192337680&amp;postID=8651951140785964269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/8651951140785964269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035518778192337680/posts/default/8651951140785964269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spencer-corkran.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-post-on-my-toast.html' title='I post on my toast'/><author><name>Spencer Corkran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08170588259649762939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
