I Speak of Chocolate

I’ve known chocolate:

I’ve know chocolate ancient as last Halloween and older than the

    flow of the Hershey factory in Hershey, Pennsylvania.

My soul has grown deep with chocolate.

I ate chocolate in London when the dawns were foggy.

I drank chocolate in Paris and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and spread Nutella above it.

I heard the singing of the Pacific and when Domingo Ghirardelli

    went down to San Francisico, and I’ve seen its tasty

    sweetness turn all melty in the sunset.

I’ve known chocolate:

Ancient, sweet chocolate.

My soul has grown deep with chocolate.

Meta-commentary:

I chose to do a parody on "A Negro Speaks of Rivers" by Langston Hughes (original -http://trailfire.com/gill_creel/marks/259869).  Hughes' work evoked such strong emotions in this poem, that I wanted to make it a bit less serious.  I tried hard to stick to the same rhythm scheme, which in the literary terms to know section of the course is defined as, "the pattern of sounds at the ends of the lines of a poem. Starting with the first line of a poem, similar sounds are noted with a lowercase letter of the alphabet in order to keep track of the rhyme scheme."  It was difficult to come up with so many different things to say about chocolate and make them fit.  As defined in the Literary terms to know section of the course, tone is, '"The attitude of the author toward the reader or the subject matter of a literary work. An author's tone may be serious, playful, mocking, angry, commanding, apologetic and so forth"' (The Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms). I wouldn't say that I was exactly mimicking the author's tone, but I was trying to create a tone that was less serious, more fun.  I think the parody I wrote was more about travel and obviously, chocolate, where Hughes is writing about something so much deeper; a search for his roots. Hughes was an amazing man who embraced his race at a time when the civil rights movement was in full swing.  Hughes writes, in an essay, "I am ashamed for the black poet who says, I want to be a poet, not a Negro poet, as though his own racial world were not as interesting as any other world. For Hughes, who wrote honestly about the world into which he was born, it was impossible to turn away from the subject of race, which permeated every aspect of his life, writing, public reception and reputation." (poets.org)  I think that quote sums up some of the strong feelings he had about embracing ones race and being proud of it as well.  I found one quote that I thought was particularly perfect when talking about Hughes, "Like Whitman, Hughes enhances our love of humanity, our vision of the just society with a spiritual transcendence and ever-widening horizons of joy and hope. In its spontaneity and race pride, his poetry found a response among poets of Africa and the Caribbean," (Nichols) I thought this was a perfect way to think about a man who did so much to inspire other African-American writers, not only at that time, but for future generations to come. There is so much more to learn about Hughes, but I thought poking around this site (http://trailfire.com/gill_creel/marks/260003) was really great.

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The Story of a Famous Hour

Knowing that Lindsey was afflicted with chronic anxiety attacks, great care was taken to break to her gently as possible the news of Sam’s possible death.

It was her sister Ali who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing.  Sam’s favorite paparattzzi were there, too, near her.  It was they who had been in the TMZ office when the YouTube video of the plane crash was shown, with Sam Ronson, clearly shown boarding the plane.  She had taken the time to assure herself of its truth by sending a text before the flight took off.

She did not hear the story many woman have heard the same, with paralyzed inability to accept its significance.  She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms.  When the storm of grief had spent itself she went to her room alone.  She would have no one follow her.

Lindsey walked out onto her balcony that overlooked Beverly Hills. She had little make-up that day for some reason and her freckles were peeking through her light red hair.  She wiped the tears off her face and began to shake.

She didn’t understand the reaction she was having.  It made her feel afraid.  It made her chest rise and fall.  She fought it back as long as she could. She looked across the room to her Chihuahua, Max and a slow, silent, smile came upon her face.  She said it over and over again under her breath: “free, free, free.”

That was all it took for Lindsey.  She went back out to her balcony and shouted it out for all of Beverly Hills to hear, “I’m Free! I’m Free! I’m Free!” 

Now she would be able to live for herself.  Go to the clubs she wanted to, eat meat again, buy the cheap vodka that the liked, and not listen to the silly dj stuff that Sam was always playing.  She could live for no one but herself.

It’s not that she didn’t love Sam, she loved her a lot, but she was happy to have her own life back.  It was L.A. after all, how long could this relationship really have lasted?

Lindsey made peace with the situation and headed down stais to find her sister, her mom and the paparattzzi, but someone was buzzing to get in.  Her family tried to block her, the paps tried crowd her by taking her by taking her picture, but it was too late.  Sam was at the door.  She had forgotten her iPod at home and had missed her flight.  She didn’t even know about the crash.

They say it was the anxiety and lack of attention that killed her.

Meta-commentary

I chose to do a parody of Kate Chopin's "The Story of an Hour" the original can be found here (http://trailfire.com/gill_creel/marks/256137).  I really liked the setting in the original story by Chopin, Mrs. Mallard, the main character in the story was a woman, who I believe was well taken care of.  I think her family or her husband had a lot of money because of the people that were surrounding her when she was told of her husband dying and also because of her reaction, it was the reaction that a woman of wealth would have, not one of a who works on a farm. I imagine Lindsey Lohan leads a privileged life, quite like Mrs. Mallard and in the same way, most upsetting situations are treated with delicacy.

  I thought it was fun to play around with setting of the story; according to the literary terms to know section in the course, setting is, "the combination of place, historical time, and social milieu that provides the general background for the characters and plot of a literary work."   Mrs. Mallard’s surroundings seem beautiful, sunny and bright in a time that should be filled with such gloom.  The story reads, “She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.” (Chopin)  I compared this to Lindsey perched on her terrace in Beverly Hills, were it is always sunny, and always bright, even when something horrible is occurring.

Chopin does a good job of giving the reader hints to foreshadow the events that are about to take place.  She mentions Mrs. Mallard’s heart condition, I tried to do the same in saying that Lindsey had issues with anxiety attacks, which can kill if one hyperventilates and does not breathe. In the literary terms to know section in the course says that, foreshadowing is, "a device used in literature to create expectation or to set up an explanation of later developments." (Gale Glossary of Terms) I think Chopin does a fantastic job of this in "The Story of an Hour."  I tried to, and I can only hope that it came out as well in my parody of her fine work.

In “The Story of an Hour,” I think Mrs. Mallard is so unsure of the feelings she feels, but the story mentions that she is young, “She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength,” (Chopin) I think the fact that she is a young woman give this story another meaning, this woman still has so much will and so much life left in her.  When she thinks her husband is dead and she realizes she no longer has to live by his ‘rules,’ she is no longer repressed.  I tried to say the same thing about Lindsey Lohan.  When she realizes Sam is dead so no long has to live by Sam’s ‘rules,’ idea, and she is perhaps no longer forced to keep up a public image that she no longer wants to keep up.  Lindsey is also young and strong willed.  Mrs. Mallard and Lindsey have much in common.    In the end, though, it was fate that killed them (in these stories), not their conditions.

 I think of Chopin as one of the first feminist writers, she was writing about 'the problem that has no name' before that line was even coined I like how Peggy Skaggs puts its best, "Critics hardly knew what to do about the work of Kate Chopin, author of some of the boldest and best stories written in America before 1960. Hers were nineteenth-century stories exploring all sorts of taboo subjects miscegenation, divorce, and even female sexuality." (Skaggs)  She was brave for her time and I am so happy we have her writings know that these things were going on in history and women weren't' suffering alone in silence.  Unfortunately I haven't yet had the time this semester, but I have bookmarked this site (http://trailfire.com/gill_creel/marks/256136) so I can read more of Chopin's work, which I really, really enjoy.