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[personal profile] icepixie
Right. I obviously spent far too much time at the Ulysses reading today (4.5 hours, to be exact) because the poem I wrote for this week's poetry class assignment? Completely. Freaking. Modernist. Funky e. e. cummings-esque spacing and punctuation, an invented word or two, references to both Joyce and Homer, weird spellings, odd references to things that are completely tangential to the subject... *beats head against wall* I wasn't looking forward to this much already because it has to be about sound, and I'm way better when I can play with images, but this is just...augh. I have a couple good lines, but the rest is crap. Unfortunately, it will probably remain crap, because I refuse to look at it again tonight, which leaves me tomorrow to work on it. Now I have to go read more Joyce. Portrait of the Artist this time. Eeep.

Date: 2003-09-20 07:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fourteenlines.livejournal.com
Being forced to read James Joyce is akin to being flailed soundly for three days, with intermittent sessions of Chinese water torture.

Poor Becca.

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