misogynistic?

I'm not really sure. While certainly, many of the characters in Hustle and Flow were misogynistic, the movie itself was in some ways, and in others seemed to be quite the opposite. When I think of all the movies I've watched where prostitution played a part, only two cross my mind where a prostitute was both an important and positive character that managed to get out of the situation she was in on her own (the other being paprika). To me it seems that if the movie itself was misogynistic, the females would not play such a integral role in the success of the main character, or appeal to the audience as individuals deserving of reaching their potential and attaining a better sense of self worth. Even when they show a clip at the end of the prostitute that was kicked out, although she was clearly unhappy with the fact that she did not play a part in the music production, she was in a school which gave a sense of hope as to what her future would hold. There were only a few parts that gave me pause like where Yevette shows up with sandwiches after her husband publicly disrespects her as though she was the one who should make amends. It was also a pretty harsh spin to say that one of the girls left DJay when he clearly kicked her out. Some scenes, I'm not even sure what I really think of. When Nola and Shelby come to the consensus that refilling vending machines is worse than prostituting. I noticed that inflated egos were rampant among the male characters and while this may be a hint misogynistic, I think it could also simply be a mixture of Shelby's ego and Nola's diminished sense of self worth.

Good, Bad, Good.

Overall I suppose I enjoyed Brad Watson's reading last Tuesday. I think he is a great talent and surely an asset to his community, both locally and to writers at large. His wry sense of humor is very much in tune with my own and I'm sure that I would greatly benefit from taking a class of his, though I don't know that I will buy his book, nor do I think I would ultimately decide to take a class of his if the opportunity were afforded to me. Ray made a comment in his post about how Watson's sense of humor was refreshing in light of the status quo's palate, a palate that tends to prefer dick jokes over high-brow dryness. I agree with this generalization but beg to differ that Watson himself writes at a caliber far above it. I noticed a pattern in his writing that seemed obsessed with gleefully describing phalli in great detail, and I cringed at his entirely unecessary description of a young girl's vagina. Call me a puritan if you want, that's fine. I just couldn't help but be instantly turned off by the superfluous peppering of perverse references, and found myself fidgeting in my seat, eager to once again be in charge of what I choose to be an audience to. Perhaps I should have asked him about his infatuation myself, but frankly the guy creeped me out and I wanted to leave.

I was happy to reconvene with my classmates over dinner, as I had found myself missing them during our time away from each other and my absence at the Art Tour the previous weekend. I had never been to Celtic Crossing before that night, but I will just say this: some might complain about how we "always" eat at the Deli when we're out in Cooper-Young, but do we not now have a more acute understanding of why that is? If fries are not appealing, might I humbly suggest Cafe Ole, the Beauty Shop, or Jasmine next time? The Beauty Shop is fabulous. As for reading Don Share's poetry, I can appreciate being forced to do my homework on a writer I am not familiar with. However I think my recalcitrance was due mainly to my own feelings toward poetry, which are not usually positive, I must admit. Share, to his credit, is an exceptional writer and I am looking forward to meeting him. However writing poetry MUST be an organic process for it to be done well in my opinion, and so analysis of poetry should be similar, logic would dictate. When I am forced to analyze on command I get a little shy. Give me a research or position paper and I will edit, analyze and produce an exquisite criticism like a dog sits for a treat. I am just very linear-minded and so poetry has never appealed to me. upon further examination of Share's work on my own time I did discover immense beauty, diamond-cut wit, and a deep understanding of what makes him tick. I look forward to turning the mirror on him when he is in Memphis, intellectually speaking.

once upon an unknown

If he was starving, I'd cut off my fingers to feed him;
And in not knowing that he defied logic.
For a months I was homeless;
And in not knowing I defied logic.
How can a city break your back?
In not knowing Memphis defies logic.

How will I ever find a way to finish?
The day?
School?
Work?
Planning a trip I still haven't convinced myself is happening?
Impressing your mother?
I HATE YOUR FUCKING MOTHER!

Imbeciles devour the streets and fill the bellies of poverty.
In not knowing, the world defies logic.

Would you like some propaganda cake?
Open wide; here comes the train to plow through your good sense.
Not to worry, you were always a whole to invalid thought;
And in not knowing, you defy logic.

Brad Watson

This reading was the perfect end to my otherwise awful day. The experience screamed "Buy this book!", and if only my bank account wasn't stamping out that sound with a more resounding whisper "I'm empty!", I would have. I will most definitely get "Aliens in the Prime of Their Lives" once I have the funds as Brad Watson's delightfully dark sense of humor is more than satisfying to any mind that craves more than the social standard for written entertainment (take that all you tired old critics).

I can't stop thinking about that magnificent toe, or the way the mother screamed in vein to wide eyed children who clearly had not a clue what she expected. My absolute favorite was the story excerpt with the couple when the wife leapt on top of the man's back and he flipped her off in the yard. It's much nicer to view such mishaps in a comic light rather than the frazzled, tense mood in which it is experienced and generally displayed. The subtle sense of humor that sneaks up on you just when you need it the most shines a light where a dark emotion usually prevails. Where exposed nerves once dwelled Brad Watson found laughter. Only the best of writers can unveil the humor within such tense moments so organically. Another thing that I enjoyed was his explanation of his process. All things come from personal experience and you can't write about what you don't know. I like the fact that many of his stories begin with an idea that stems from his own life and the relateable situations he incorporates into his work. "Aliens in the Prime of Their Lives" is the book that those look for lightheartedness in the worst of times have been waiting for.

Brad Watson Reading

I have not attended many readings, but this one was excellent. Mr. Watson was able to clearly convey the passion he had for the stories in his reading. He said that this book was the most fun for him to write, and it was evident in the emotion he put into the tone of the characters. I liked that he read us the first couple of paragraphs of his stories because sometimes it feels like the authors try too pick excerpts that will appeal to there audience even though the excerpts may not represent the true theme of the book. Mr. Watson choosing to read the first couple of paragraphs gave a a feel for the mood and themes of his writing. He basically said "This is what the book is like, and I hope you like it. If not, oh well."
I really do not understand why the critics did not see the humor in his writing. Thinking back on the imagery from a few of the scenes I am still laughing out loud. One image I cannot get out of my head is the scene where the young boys are staring slack-jawed at their mother who is yelling about being under-appreciated. If it was a movie I can imagine the scene as the camera cuts back and forth from the mother yelling to the children hearing only the vacuum. His humor is not something you would find in today's pop culture that is obsessed with cheesy comedy and dick jokes. It is dry and very grotesque. Even his story about his meeting with the doctor made me laugh out loud. I knew I should not be laughing at a baby being torn apart, but the idea that the doctor was telling them the story three days before she was due was just so absurd that I could not help it. I plan to buy the book once it is out on paperback (cant afford new hard-covers on a student income) and hopefully I can send it to his office at the University of Wyoming for an autograph since I missed it this time.

My project at present

To be completely honest, I'm not too awfully fond of how my project is going. Partially procrastination, partially overexertion, I have only written about 2300 words of my 6000 word goal. The book is unfolding quite nicely, and my notes are adequate to make my way through the next chapter, but the actual writing is not progressing very quickly. I will have to really apply myself to make my goal by the deadline. The writer's workshop was very helpful, giving me a new viewpoint stylistically as well as helping me come up with a systematic unraveling of the plot-line. All in all, I am pleased with my work, I just wish that I was farther along.

Italy's Little Memphis, Venice in the Age of

The old forest hike was a very nice walk. The wind was brisk, the air clean and cool. I think the smell of the forest air was my favorite part, a smell I have missed since my childhood. I played catch up for the first quarter of a mile or so, but once I got caught up the hike was slow and informative, a nice pace for a trek through Memphis history. I saw my grandmother. I chatted with friends. We made dirty jokes and watched our teacher hug a tree. But the names of the plants were forgotten the second we walked into the Brooks Museum of Art. Lunch was extravagant, the crepe was delicious, the French beverage I drank was grotesque, and yet it somehow complimented my brunch. The camaraderie added a nice overtone to an already pleasant day, but the real magic was when we stepped into the exhibit. The paintings were very Memphian. They portrayed a dirty, lived-in city in the prime of its degradation. You could easily see that some of the paintings were done for money while some were done for artistic expression. My favorite was the painting of the centaurs. There was an extravagant beauty to the painting when witnessed from afar, but a closer examination revealed its truer nature. The centaurs raped and pillaged the grotto scene as the men fought tooth and nail, literally biting and scratching, to fend them off. I spent as much time examining this painting as I did most of the others combined. I saw my home. I saw myself. I saw my life. It moved me in the way that only art can, and I am very glad I got the chance to experience it.