Italy: Il Bel Paese

I'm back from Italy. For more details on the trip, you can feel free to visit my new travel blog.
This was a different sort of trip for me. I wasn't really sure what to expect from it. There was something slightly dangerous about it-- navigating through the streets of Rome, knowing only a few words of the language. Florence was much nicer, more romantic. Next time I go there, I'd like to be with someone I love.
I spent an incredible amount of time in museums and churches. I've also discovered that while I have a good head for beer, drinking wine at dinner every night makes me a bit silly.
Everything in Italy draws the eye up--domes, balconies, painted ceilings. You find your head tipped toward the heavens constantly. And I made my pilgrimage to the Protestant Cemetery to visit Keats and Shelley, then to the Keats and Shelley Museum by the Spanish Steps. We also stood at the corner around which Dante is said to have first seen Beatrice in Florence.
It was all too brief, but inspirational none the less. I took many notes, nearly filling a new mini Moleskine. There is, I believe, fodder for at least two short stories and a handful of poems within these fevered scribblings. Though it doesn't perfectly match the image given to me by 19th century literature, it is country whose nature lends itself to an amorous nature. The combination of delicate beauty along with wildness stirs the poet, the artist, the architecture.
It poured with rain the whole time we were in Florence, but that was beautiful too.

Sonnet Sunday: more Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

It's been a while since I've done Sonnet Sunday, too long. I watched Bright Star again last week and I fell in love with the poetry of Keats all over again.

Top 10 of 2010

It was hard to choose, but I tried to pick 10 media based things that are new for me this year or at least have reached an extraordinarily new level of enjoyment. No doubt there were other writers, musicians, etc. that tickled my fancy this year, but here are the standouts with brief explanations for each.

The Black Keys- Though they aren’t brand new, they are a recent discovery of mine. I love their blending of blues with an alternative rock feel.

Cabin Pressure- Discovered entirely by accident, this has encouraged me that radio plays aren’t completely dead and my dream of writing them may be realized. It’s also hilarious and has Benedict Cumberbatch.

Doctor Who Series Five- I was so ready to dislike Matt Smith and after the indulgent completion of Davies reign, it seemed bleak. Though it wasn’t perfect, I thoroughly enjoyed series five and am terribly excited for series six.

Florence + the Machine- Finally gaining notoriety in the US, Lungs is probably one of the best albums I’ve experienced in recent memory. Every song is unique and well crafted.

The Great Gatsby- I can’t believe I had never read this book before. It was incredibly fluid and tragic. It deserves its place among American classics.

Have I Got News For You- I’ve recently started watching this program online. It’s a great way to get an overview of world news and a great laugh via British celebrities.

Keats- His melancholy poetry has been my companion through many a rainy afternoon this year. The film Bright Star, a biopic of the poet, though flawed, was beautiful and lush.

NaNoWriMo- Not my first year doing NaNo, but an infinitely more satisfying experience than last year. Really found a new writing niche and characters I adore… maybe too much.

Sherlock Holmes- This year I consumed more Holmes based media than probably my life combined before. My readings of the original canon, watching the Jeremy Brett’s series, and the series Sherlock have created an obsession to be sure.

Thoreau- In my other life (and blog) interest in practicing a more natural and sustainable handmade lifestyle has drawn me to Thoreau and I’ve quite enjoyed many of this writings from Walden and his idea of simplification.

Being Unproductive: a celebration

In light of the giant weight off of my shoulders with all papers complete, a reprieve from classes until Monday and little left to worry about until finals, I enjoyed an extremely unproductive afternoon. The weather was gorgeous, so I went on a long walk around town, but then decided to wander off by the creek in search of a good climbing tree. I haven't climbed a tree in ages and sometimes the urges of my tomboy childhood in the middle of nowhere return.
My search didn't yield anything too promising, the best bet was in some one's yard and that just seemed mildly inappropriate and like it might alienate my neighbors. However, cutting up by the range at the sportsman's club (it was empty, I regretted not bringing my bow, I would have had perfect solitude to practice), I ended up below the cemetery. As I write this I realize it seems slightly creepy, but it was so quiet, I just lay down in the grass- not in the cemetery proper mind you- the sky was that shade of off white that is so common in autumn.
With the tombstones in the distance behind me and the sounds of the water trickling over rocks in the creek, I felt very content. For some reason it made me think of "Ode to a Nightingale" by Keats. Particularly this stanza:

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.

Hmm... this whole scenario is sounding even more morbid. I couldn't remember the stanza exactly, but some of the words and their impression were floating through my mind. I do feel like perhaps I should watch Bright Star again now. Well to veer away from that, I should tell you I spent most of the rest of the day making things for my Etsy shop and listening to Pandora Radio.
Because of my love of analyzing and debating (English major all the way) I am a member of online forums so that I can discuss some of my obsessions that are more obscure where I live. I've recently become a member of the "Sherlocking" forums and this afternoon I wanted to go waste a bit of time there. To my chagrin the site is currently disabled due to hacking problems. Many of the members are also bloggers, but they all belong to camp Tumblr. Curses to Tumblr and its ridiculous exclusivity- you have to be a member of Tumblr to follow or comment.
I was eager to share the geekery of a recent whim of mine:

I stitched over the top button hole on my coat with red thread. It's a long story, but it has a Sherlock significance.
This has been an extremely long post. I'm going to go drink tea now. Ugh, looking at that photo has made me realize that I have really unattractive, ungainly hands. Well, I guess I should take 'hand model' off the list of possible careers now.

Colin Meloy Procrastination

While procrastinating -or as I like to call it- searching for inspiration I stumbled upon Colin Meloy's Twitter. Colin Meloy is singer/songwriter/guitarist of one of my favorite bands: The Decemberists. I loved this quote pulled from two of his tweets:

"John Keats would've had a very different view of romantic love if he'd have witnessed newly cohabitating couples picking out sofas at IKEA.
….Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, like a plush Klubbo & matching Skog"

He makes fun of Ikea and references Keats. Wow.
I have to go finish a research paper, make up a journalism portfolio, study my notes on World War Two and significant media studies of the 20th century and take care of my cats and my crazy family. Or... I could just procrastinate some more.

Sylvia Plath: Mad Girl's Love Song

Our Keats Party had a small,but enthusiastic turn out. Tasha brought an amazing spinach dip that went over quite well, and my iced chai did not stay on the table long either.
Saturday non-sonnet poem is one of my favorite examples of early Plath:
Mad Girl's Love Song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Throwing a Keats Party

Surprisingly, entering "Keats Party" or "Romantic Poetry Party" into a search engine yeilds little results. I, along with the rest of the campus literary club, are throwing a party tomorrow night to celebrate John Keats and his contemporaries. It is apart of the National Poetry Month festivities.
As a party theme, there aren't many activities that spring to mind for a group to participate in. I'm bringing my copy of Bright Star, but we really had a difficult time coming up with other activities. My suggestion of contracting tuberculosis was rejected with good reason, so we decided we will have a reading of our favorite Keats poems as well as those of other romantics, and there will be a Jane Austen board game. The film will likely occupy most of the guests for the majority of the time. There is a possibility of some Magnetic Poetry making an appearance as well, which will likely lead to many interesting compositions.
Our refreshments will consist of cupcakes, mushroom puffs, chips, soda, and iced chai tea.
Feel free to use this as a guide to throw your own Keats party for National Poetry Month or whenever the mood takes you.
Now, really stop distracting me, I’m a bit behind on my Script Frenzy page count.

"Oatmeal"

A brilliant woman directed me to the poem "Oatmeal" by Galway Kinnell. It's about a man who lives alone and imagines himself eating oatmeal with John Keats to keep from eating alone. It's very funny and slightly tinged with irony.
Haven't you imagined conversations with writers or philosophers during an idle hour? (Tell me I'm not alone here...) Check it out, it may inspire you to read more of Kinnell or even refresh yourself on Keats.

Keats' Death Day

If my math is correct, John Keats, author of one of my favorite sonnets ("Ode to a Nightingale") and considered by many to be the foremost romantic poet, died today 189 years ago at the tender age of twenty one.
A new film called Bright Star chronicles the last few years of his life mingling poetry with the dialogue and artistry with the scenic elements. It's a beautiful love story with stellar performances. I wrote a review of it for the college paper, but I'm not sure if I can reproduce it here. I was reading some information about "self plagiarism" the other day, so I am trying to proceed with care.
Nonetheless, I've been thinking about the young poet today and wondering what poetic peaks he might have scaled had he lived a little longer.

Teaser Tuesday

I almost forgot, Tuesdays are a bit crazy; work, newspaper nonsense, rehearsals. Even though I am in the midst of two novels, I have been mostly reading poems by Keats and short stories by Hemingway the past few days.

"Everything tastes of liorice. Especially all the things you've waited so long for, like absinthe."
-The girl, "Hills Like White Elephants" by Ernest Hemingway

"...I have been half in love with easeful death,
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath...."
-Stanza VI of "Ode to a Nightingale" by John Keats

There will be a review of Bright Star as well as another novel for my What's in a Name? Challenge next week.

Sonnet Sunday: Keats

I just thought that Sonnet Sunday sounded very nice; Saturdays aren't as disposed to sonnetry and I do so love a little alliteration. This Sunday I'm starting out with Keats in honor of the copy of Bright Star I have on pre-order that should be here next week. I'll be doing a review of it in the paper of the institution of higher education I am currently taking some classes at (purposely ambiguous), that I will also print here.

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.

What can I say? I am a sucker for a good sonnet.