Philip Hilton writes,
Around 18, every rational adult begins to question the meaning of success and coolness – or both. Rational adults take full responsibility for their actions. Rational adults have full responsibility for building their career. Rational adults usually have to mix with a wide variety of people, and so they have full responsibility for being ‘cool’. And as all of us probably know, coolness is not to be lightly thrown away. This combination of coolness and success which everyone seeks is sophistication – the holy grail of education in the West.
Prologue / Chapter I / II / IIIA / IIIB / IV / VA / VB / VIA / VIB / VII / VIIA
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Marie-Claire sat down in George’s car and at once burst into tears. The car started, and began to move. Hiding her face in her hands, she laid her head against the window, carefully, so that her arm would not hurt. It would be disgusting to cry too loudly, but since she was already crying anyway, she let it be just audible. He may as well notice; she rather wanted him to, though when she realised this, she despised herself.
These are poems that I wrote for my senior project in high-school. I meant them to represent the four seasons and the four times of the day: Autumn Twilight, Winter Midnight, Spring Dawn, and Summer Noon. The last poem, regarding summer noon, has already been posted on PAN as Clarity. I arranged them in this order so that the cycle of poems and seasons ended with the glorious zenith of the day. In my senior project there was also a lot of analysis of the symbolism contained in these four ideas, but you don’t have to suffer through that.
Quietus Crucified
But what about Death?
The trees drip gold leaves under a red sunset,
Dying, falling, failing.
The sun bleeds its crimson into our world.
It too is sinking, blazing scarlet, into dark.
We stand, and watch it crack the horizon, a flame of going glory. View Full Post
Having been forced to think after a long hiatus, Victoria Blake writes,
Prologue / Chapter I / II / IIIA / IIIB / IV / VA / VB / VIA / VIB / VII
~ * ~
‘Su, look, there’s a dragon!’
‘No, there isn’t.’
‘It’s a baby dragon: its wings aren’t grown yet. It’s grey. Are dragons usually grey?’
Susan stopped and turned around. Jenny sat crouched like a cat at the edge of the road, peering intently into the grass; her shawl trailed in the gravel behind her. She sighed. ‘Jenny, dragons don’t exist. Come on.’
“A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to carry and bear arms, shall not be infringed.”
Most of us, I daresay, are thankful for the Bill of Rights. Apart from the Tenth Amendment (‘a truism’, according to the Supreme Court), and perhaps the Ninth Amendment (‘the right to choose an abortion’), we would support emphatically every right listed — except, perhaps, the Second Amendment. In these days of professional military, even the first phrase rings hollow. Is a well regulated militia really necessary to the security of a free State? Manifestly not. Clearly, by its own provisions, the Second Amendment ought to be struck down.
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1. I want a psychology centered on depravity
That is to say, when people look at the human psyche, I want the first thing they recognize to be that it’s broken and destructive. Inversely, when people think about depravity, I want them to recognize that it’s most apparent in the human psyche — our bodies in themselves don’t immediately evoke depravity; what goes on inside our heads that makes us do the things we do with our bodies does. Somewhat tangentially, I also want the church as a whole to find some way to interface its categories of mind, body, and spirit with psychological categories. I want to know how the soul relates to the superego.
Elizabeth Ten-Hove considers two centuries of change…
A thousand things on earth I deem more fair:
The crowds and concrete, cars and pigeons bold,
I hardly think majestic; yet they hold
A sort of fascination, and I dare
Not call the chaos ugly, and be done.
The towers, temples, theaters still rise,
Among their younger brethren, to the skies;
The air, though hazy, yet admits the sun.
But so much more is different; now the chime
Of bells calls only Argument to prayer;
A thousand tongues lend Albion their rhyme;
Niqab and veil are no longer rare.
Fair Britain stands upon the banks of Time:
Across this bridge her future lies, but where?
Laura Russell muses,
I should preface these poems by pointing out that I wrote them while I was on a relaxing vacation and in excellent humor. Don’t take them too seriously (if that’s even possible to begin with).
Tic Tac Toe
Tic tac toe
Patterned prison windows wink
Do they know? View Full Post
Philip Hilton comments,
In Australia, Britain, Canada, and New Zealand, the age of drinking, voting, and generally coming into one’s own is 18. In America, the drinking age is 21, even though the voting age is 18. Why the difference? If you are responsible at 18 — responsible enough, apparently, to choose the government, and join the Army (e.g, die) — aren’t you responsible enough to drink?
