Though I have to say, that was more time than I ever want to spend with Beaumont and Fletcher ever again. Unfortunately, I have the feeling I'm not going to get my wish.
On the other hand, I very clearly hit several very important and interesting things today. For instance, I have a rather fascinating argument about the title of The Maid's Tragedy and a reading of the play as a whole that I've never seen before (which you'll have to forgive me if I don't share - academia being rather competitive as it is, I'm not feeling very open about this stuff just yet). I also got into something of a groove this week regarding this chapter, and it's just been pouring out (with a few little fits and starts, of course, but I've written about 20 pages worth of stuff in three days, as well as a good deal of revising).
I'm still feeling up in the air about including Julius Caesar in the dissertation. On the one hand, it would go very well with The Maid's Tragedy... on the other hand, this chapter alone is 57 pages and I've got three more, an introductory chapter, and an epilogue to go, and I know the chapter on Macbeth and Richard III is going to be a long bugger.
Next up: Hope the prospectus gets approved. Then I can give them this monstrosity. That's going to be fun. If we dick around for a while yet... Start chapter 1, which is on Edward II. I'm actually looking forward to that play, which tells me something about the comparative quality of Marlowe versus Beaumont and Fletcher. And it's not good for Francis and John. It really makes me kind of sad that Kit had to go and get himself knifed before he could write anything else. I often wonder if Marlowe had lived, would we have Marlowe festivals instead of Shakespeare...
At any rate, I'm SO happy this is done. Especially since I can tell my brain is so over-saturated by iambic pentameter that it keeps trying to force my normal speech into Jacobean dramatic patterns. Not good.
Fair reader, fare thee well, for I am done.
"Words fly up, my thoughts remain below."
black and white, Angels and demons.
We aren't two sides of the same coin.
We're the gold into which those sides are imprinted."
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Today's Thought-Provoking Quote of the Day
From Elaine Scarry's The Body in Pain (New York: Oxford, 1985), which is a fascinating book for those of you who might be interested.
The invented god and its human inventor (or, in the inverted language of the scriptures, the creature and his creature) are differentiated by the immunity of the one and the woundability of the other; and if the creature is not merely woundable but already deeply and permanently wounded, handicapped or physically marred in some way (Leviticus 21:16; 22:21; Deuteronomy 17:1), then that individual is asserted to exist at an ever greater moral distance from God than does the “normal” person. (183)
Not only does this make me think about Richard III in terms of Richard's "distance" from divinity and about Edward II in terms of the final murder as an act of removing Edward's divinity through pain (because what is pain if not fundamentally human), but about Milton and Paradise Lost.
Several years ago I wrote a paper on Satan's wounds as indicative not only of his Hobbesean understanding of the universe, but as the physical manifestation of his sundering from god and divinity. In Paradise Lost - as, amusingly enough, in the movie Constantine (2005) when Gabriel becomes "mortal" - pain is the marker of the Fall. This has all sorts of implications in my own creative work in terms of scarring, marking, and pain, but that's another (very long) story.
The invented god and its human inventor (or, in the inverted language of the scriptures, the creature and his creature) are differentiated by the immunity of the one and the woundability of the other; and if the creature is not merely woundable but already deeply and permanently wounded, handicapped or physically marred in some way (Leviticus 21:16; 22:21; Deuteronomy 17:1), then that individual is asserted to exist at an ever greater moral distance from God than does the “normal” person. (183)
Not only does this make me think about Richard III in terms of Richard's "distance" from divinity and about Edward II in terms of the final murder as an act of removing Edward's divinity through pain (because what is pain if not fundamentally human), but about Milton and Paradise Lost.
Several years ago I wrote a paper on Satan's wounds as indicative not only of his Hobbesean understanding of the universe, but as the physical manifestation of his sundering from god and divinity. In Paradise Lost - as, amusingly enough, in the movie Constantine (2005) when Gabriel becomes "mortal" - pain is the marker of the Fall. This has all sorts of implications in my own creative work in terms of scarring, marking, and pain, but that's another (very long) story.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Curtain
Well, let's see.
Performing (In)Visibility Conference, check.
Abstract and chapter breakdown passed on to second advisor, check.
Show, check.
To do during spring break:
Write state of the criticism.
Finish chapter one.
Maybe start thinking about the Medieval/Renaissance Congress. Maybe.
Shake this nasty-ass cough.
Life goes on. Sometimes ploddingly, sometimes quickly, sometimes with these funny little fits and starts that make you wonder of god has the damn hiccups. But it goes on.
So doth it with me.
Performing (In)Visibility Conference, check.
Abstract and chapter breakdown passed on to second advisor, check.
Show, check.
To do during spring break:
Write state of the criticism.
Finish chapter one.
Maybe start thinking about the Medieval/Renaissance Congress. Maybe.
Shake this nasty-ass cough.
Life goes on. Sometimes ploddingly, sometimes quickly, sometimes with these funny little fits and starts that make you wonder of god has the damn hiccups. But it goes on.
So doth it with me.
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