confrontation with the Sublime
Mar. 31st, 2006 06:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lotesseWhen I was little, I was the sort of girl who would keep sitting in the mud puddle that I'd fallen into until my mum noticed me. I've been trying very hard for a long time to separate myself from this kind of melodrama, and have been fairly successful. But one of the outcomes of this is that my tolerance thresholds for drama are very, very low. I can't stand the stuff.
As a kid, the Romantic poets were my favorites. Keats, Tennyson, Browning, Rossetti--long narratives about fair maids and fairies and ruined castles. But with the drama-meter as sensitive as it has been, I abandoned them completely and eloped with modern poetry.
The love affair with the modern continues, but I've felt a bit bad about running out on the Romantics as I did. So I took a class in Romantic Literature for this term. I had no idea.
My god, people. I ended up crying in class today. We were working on Blake and the Book of Thel, and I felt like I was going to burst. I went off-the-wall transcendent right there in my bloody little desk-chair-thingy. The openness and the explosion of normality and the wonderful layers of distorted allusion and image and irony and contradiction and storytelling. I don't even know how to put in to words what it did to me.
I had forgotten that poetry could be like this.
As a kid, the Romantic poets were my favorites. Keats, Tennyson, Browning, Rossetti--long narratives about fair maids and fairies and ruined castles. But with the drama-meter as sensitive as it has been, I abandoned them completely and eloped with modern poetry.
The love affair with the modern continues, but I've felt a bit bad about running out on the Romantics as I did. So I took a class in Romantic Literature for this term. I had no idea.
My god, people. I ended up crying in class today. We were working on Blake and the Book of Thel, and I felt like I was going to burst. I went off-the-wall transcendent right there in my bloody little desk-chair-thingy. The openness and the explosion of normality and the wonderful layers of distorted allusion and image and irony and contradiction and storytelling. I don't even know how to put in to words what it did to me.
I had forgotten that poetry could be like this.
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Date: 2006-04-10 02:15 pm (UTC)...the Blake love has become quite mighty and passionate in these parts.