Laughing Till We Think We'll Die,

Barefoot on a summer night.

In the style and dedication that we are both products of the 90's Beau and I ironically both got the other a mixed tape for Valentine's day. More (or possibly less ironically seeing as we've been together since high school) both tapes featured a lot of the same artists. Both sported a copy of our proclaimed song Home by Edward Sharpe and the magnetic Zeros.

I believe that when you hear a song it fills you; embodies you. When I listen to old 90's pop culture like N' Sync I feel pumped, I feel nostalgic... I feel like wearing cargo pants and a cropped top. When I listen to Mumford and Son's album Sigh no More, I could swear I feel God. When I listen to Home, I feel a calm excitement, I feel love, the same feeling that I feel when I look back at pictures of Beau and I over our past summers, the same feeling I feel when I watch this video. 

When you connect with something, you have the chance to become one with it. I wonder about this today as I consider Poet's Theatre and why I'm having such a hard time with it. This contentment is something that stems from the logical side of my brain (often ignored.) Poet's Theatre is neither poem nor theatre. It is neither strictly performed or strictly read. All the choices involved send my brain into a kind of akimbo state, overloaded and in the midst of escape without due process. In the realm of reality that is school, time consuming activities create anxiety. How do I read these pieces? Is each character there own entity? How should I take mis-spellings and punctuation? Linearly, non linearly, left-to-right, right-to-left? Should I brandish my highlighter in my scholarly quest for context and meaning or should I read to enjoy? Is there room for enjoyment in college? I used to believe it but as a writing and literature major one has to read so quickly you barely have time to soak into what you're reading, let alone be able to fully enjoy it.

Needless to say the duality of the genre has the capacity to overwhelm one that steps too close. One thing that really struck me was the misspellings. When performing the pieces the misspellings would function as dialect, but when reading the piece they can function not only as dialogue but a performance in themselves. For instance in the piece with the Grandma and Medusa the Grandma says "jest" instead of "just." The word just as an adverb means, within a brief preceding time. As an adjective it means guided by truth or principle. On the other hand, one letter off, to jest is to make a witty remark; to banter. Is the poet hinting at the witticisms and absurdity of this new form were anything goes. Remarking at the purity of such an act? I have not figured these out yet for myself. Although the light at the end of the tunnel has become more clear since our group reading on Wednesday.    

I'm never sure how long a blog should be to be a blog. If it were 140 characters or under it would be considered a "tweet," If it's a paragraph or less its a face book status update. Blogs are much less constricting. Even less constricting then ever before. You can upload videos from YouTube. (For some reason that screams progress to me.)  You can really do whatever you want in blogs, even incorporate a somewhat poorly conditioned ending.

End.