You may have noticed I haven't been posting lately. My last post was an abrupt 'see ya later' and something about needing a break. Well I've taken a break and I'm ready to return to reading and writing on a regular schedule...except not today, haha.
I'll explain--over said break, my mind wandered and I toyed with the idea of switching platforms, especially since I wasn't actively blogging. And wouldn't you know--I did. Somehow, I did. It's not exactly where I want it yet...but it's pretty darn close.
This site will be up and running for a little while longer. I may even find another use for it, but most of my rambling and musings will occur at this place---> A Morose Bookshelf (same name, new face!)
It would be wonderful if you stopped by and gave feedback and stuff...and subscribed, haha.
If a Wilderness
by Carl Phillips
Then spring came:
branches-in-a-wind. . .
I bought a harness, I bought a bridle.
I wagered on God in a kind stranger—
kind at first; strange, then less so—
and I was right.
The difference between
God and luck is that luck, when it leaves,
does not go far: the idea is to believe
you could almost touch it. . . .
singing, cadence of a rough sea—A way of
crossing a dark so unspecific, it seems
everywhere: isn't that what singing, once,
I lay the harness across my lap,
the bridle beside me for the sweat—the color
and smell of it—that I couldn't, by now,
lift the leather free of, even if I wanted to.
I don't want to.
image: flickr-Robert S. Donovan
Okay, not really. Not even close to one....it would be the most dysfunctional and morbid 'family' trip ever...Rick takes Michonne and Carl out to scout for supplies. Rick chooses to take Michonne more so because he doesn't trust her. Carl shares similar feelings...I think their first stop is in the town Rick and Carl or from...I didn't realize it was so tiny. Literally looks like a town of population 100. Anyways, there doesn't seem to be any guns or food.
Michonne. She has a voice, she uses her words--finally. And shows us some p-e-r-s-o-n-a-l-i-t-y. She's been so blah and angry up until this point. Small breakthrough in her character development. I'd love to see more.
I have to admit. I was shocked to see him again. I wasn't sure when/if they were going to reintroduce him into the show. Morgan has survived and has booby trapped the town to prevent anyone or anything from entering. Rick should take some pointers from him...Morgan has also stashed away what seems to be all the remaining ammunition and weaponry in the Atlanta metropolitan area. This should be good for Rick, Michonne and Carl, except for one thing: Morgan has lost it. Completely. His only function is to 'clear'--eliminate. I thought Rick had it pretty bad, but no, Morgan is on an entirely different level. Fortunately, it works out that when Rick sees what Morgan has become, he realizes what he has to fight for and that he can no longer be a space cadet.
In their hometown, Carl feels the need to make his own run alone...to put his life in danger to acquire something. Michonne tags a long for added protection and somehow they end up bonding. It's weird...I understand symbolically why this quest is important to Carl, but realistically--this is the zombie apocalypse! No picture is worth all that. Just sayin'
This is easily the most impressive, most emotional, the best episode this season...and potentially one of the best of the series. Lennie James, really breathes life into Morgan's character and brings something that's been missing this season. You can pull quote after quote from his speech to Rick. Really fantastic.
by Chinua Achebe
Description via Goodreads
It was deeper and more intimate than the fear of evil and capricious gods and of magic, the fear of the forest, and of the forces of nature, malevolent, red in tooth and claw. Okonkwo's fear was greater than these. It was not external but lay deep within himself. It was the fear of himself, lest he should be found to resemble his father (13)
Things Fall Apart is a straightforward story of Okonkwo, an authoritarian and respected figure within his community. Okonkwo is driven solely by his preoccupation with power and rank, which can be traced back to his relationship with his father, a lazy and non prosperous man. Regardless of the circumstance, Okonkwo is able to hold everything together...that is until things fall apart.
It's easy to read this book and admire its simple and folkloric prose. If you've ever wondered why a tortoise shell is uneven and lumpy, this book will tell you why. Some have compared it to something reminiscent of a Greek tragedy...I would agree and add that there's definitely something fable-esque*(?) about it. However, at times the story is so straightforward and uncomplicated that you may find yourself wondering when any actual conflict will ensue. Okonkwo seems to have everything under control. He's a stern man--mean even. And he won't be overcome by any other man.
It's also easy to read this book and conclude that Okonkwo's attitude toward women is negative. He associates some questionable traits and actions with women, and the accusation of a man being feminine is thrown around frequently...but in order to enjoy this book the reader will have to step out of the frame of mind that tells them to be offended (if it offends at all) and realize that's just how it is...I could eurocentralize*(?) this and draw connections between African deities and Greek deities like Tyche...but I won't. Completely unnecessary and overkill for such a simple book.
It was a crime against the earth goddess to kill a clansmen, and a man who committed it must flee from the land. The crime was of two kinds, male and female. Okonkwo had committed the female, because it had been inadvertent (124)
So when do things fall apart? They begin with Okonkwo doing something considered feminine (ironic) and being sent away for seven years. Okonkwo being the thriving creature that he is, fairs well during his absence, but what he returns to is even too much for him. His village has been divided in two, due to the arrival of white men.
It's hard to read the last fifty pages of this book and not feel resentment towards the white men that come and ruin their villages. The thing is, despite how extreme or violent the penal system seemed for Okonkwo and his fellow villagers--it was their system. Their system eradicated the imbalances. It functioned...until the white man arrived, like a virus, spreading their faith and governance. Okonkwo cannot overcome this power struggle, but he refuses to let another man tell him how to lead his life...and so Okonkwo becomes a martyr.
Have you not heard the song they sing when a woman dies? 'For whom is it well. for whom is it well? There is no one for whom it is well' "I have no more to say to you." (135)* I'm making up all kinds of words for today's post, aren't I? apologies.
Things Fall Apart
Call Rick on his bullshit
Everyone's doing it! As they should...well by everyone I mean Hershel and Carl (in his corny, sad little way). But that's enough. Rick needs to wake the fook up! While I don't think he needs to stop being the leader (silly Carl) I think he needs to reevaluate their situation because for some reason he thinks they'll fair another attack by the Governor. No. No and No. He's training an army Rick...
Andrea. Stop. Just Stop.
Her reasoning, her logic and most of all, her timing are wrong. I can't even...she's about to be on the same plane as Lori, as far as my wanting her to survive. That is all.
Can we dedicate a moment to the walker mutilation in the forest via Andrea with the axe?
Karma Rick, Karma.
Yeah so the small group he kicked out of the prison somehow came across Andrea, who told them about Woodbury. They go to Woodbury and meet the Governor. Now the Governor has a map of the prison. Great. Things just keep working in his favor.
My questions: (1) Am I the only one who thinks the Governor is going to kill Andrea? (2) What the hell is wrong with Andrea??
This episode was better than last, but next week's episode looks even better. I apologize for all the Andrea-hate...well not really.
Leisure, Hannah, Does Not Agree with You (2)
by Hannah Gamble
My house disgusted me, so I slept in a tent.
My tent disgusted me, so I slept in the grass. The grass disgusted me,
so I slept in my body, which I strung like a hammock from two ropes.
My body disgusted me, so I carved myself out of it.
My use of knives disgusted me because it was an act of violence.
My weakness disgusted me because “Hannah” means “hammer.”
The meaning of my name disgusted me because I’d rather be known
as beautiful. My vanity disgusted me because I am a scholar.
My scholarship disgusted me because knowledge is empty.
My emptiness disgusted me because I wanted to be whole.
My wholeness would have disgusted me because to be whole
is to be smug. Still, I tried to understand wholeness
as the inclusiveness of all activities: I walked out into the yard,
trying to vomit and drink milk simultaneously. I tried to sleep
while smoking a cigar. I have enough regrets to crack all the plumbing.
I’m whole only in that I’ve built my person from every thought I’ve ever loved.
image: flickr - brad montgomery