Editor's note draft (because my MS Word is a poop)

Bees

Osmia ribiflores, the bee, is rarely perceived as one of nature's priceless jewels, but when the bee makes its way into the catacomb of poetry, it seems to always harvest something beautiful. It must be something about their haunting, yet reassuring drone, or their unbridled loyalty that crawls into the poet's ear and into his/her subconscious.

Jean Valentine's Bees suspends the reader's mind in a surrealism that makes the reader wonder what the poem is trying to say. Only 10 lines, the poem's brevity is another thing that helps make it so potent. The imagery describes a man 'covered in bees' repeating his lonely maxim: 'I've never known such pain.' Then, another man also covered in bees comes to help the first man in a seemingly gracious act of pity. Valentine's statement that says 'only bees can get the other bees off' suggests that the bees must symbolize some common burden the two men share; perhaps the pain of loss or substance abuse. Even still, Valentine's choice of bees is perfect.

Anthology Poems

So I've decided the theme for my project will be "Bees" (my favorite animal). Here's the list of 6 I'll have in there for sure...

"The River of Bees" by W.S. Merwin
"Tell the Bees" by Sarah Lindsay
"Bees" by Jean Valentine
"Here is the Beehive" by Anonymous
"Was you ever bit by a dead bee?" by Hailey Leithauser
"Fame is a Bee" by Emily Dickenson

Personal Post: Spring's first impression

This post I wanted to be dedicated to just sort of a free-association / stream of consciousness writing exercise / session. This should be mediocre...

Right now, as I listen to "Prospect Hummer", I feel like so many things are being traded; that so many comforting vibes are being transmitted through the eyes on a Chicago street corner. I love kick drums, they're so useful for expression of rhythm and of pattern and of a nod. I'm not sure why I am choosing to write this instead of researching some good poems for my anthology project, but it feels right. I feel as though my actions, my thoughts, my entire perception is being recorded onto some sort of nano-alien technology, That maybe my entire life could be downloaded as a .life or .human file onto some infinite bank of history. Not that I feel as though I am creating history, or that I'm history in the making, but... Well wait, maybe I am. Not like a legend that everyone will remember as the 21st centuries first real "Renaissance man", but just as another human proof of reality, not more or less important than any other. I wonder how many terabytes my life will take up on the alien's computer. How would you view the file? Perhaps some sort of injection or rod inserted into the spinal cord like in The Matrix. Shit, maybe I AM in a matrix. Heh, probably. But oh well, when does faith, or even knowing truth as pure truth, ever matter? When does the devout Catholic receive his gold star for having so much faith? When he dies and goes to heaven? For him, yes. But what about the rest of the universe? What about his next life (assuming we are reborn into another sentient shell as soon as our previous body has wasted away)? Will the world still turn after he is dead? Will it when I? I can't answer that question. Not TRULY.
I'm not surprised that this "stream of consciousness" post has turn into another one of my spiritual ramblings. But maybe that's my 'purpose' as they say. Fortasse I am a Renaissance man in terms of philosophy. But I don't like to blow my own horn. I honestly wish I could separate myself from my self. I wish "I", the royal I, the I people know as Eric H Schepper could be cut away from "me", me as in my soul and thoughts and perceptions. If my wishes were granted right now and I was to float through space, through a million galaxies, without the need for food or water or love, I can not say if it would present itself as a hell or a nirvana. Would I enjoy that? Yes and no. No and yes. But damn, I should get packed up and ready to leave for Algebra, which is apparently more important the present moment right now. Thanks, Time. You win.

5.3.2011 Action List

"entirely separate planes of existence"
'our domestic sphere'

I chose to write about the "Wired families" article. It's interesting how so many people these days rely on their devices for everything they do. Not saying I don't use my phone a lot, but I would be perfectly content with not having one. What I use it for besides texting friends is to check my Craigslist app to see ads about jobs or musical instruments. My favorite quotes from the article I have pasted above. In a way, I envy Mr. Hill for his lack of materialism by not having a phone. I wouldn't say "I wish I could do that" because I can; I would say that I wish I could easily do that. Right now I am listening to "Calm of the Cast-light Cloud" by Eluvium, a very peaceful song. Man, I know I say it a lot, but I really wish I could review music for a living. I should really look into that..... Better put that on my to-do list on my phone...

Saturday Night

Pretty fun time with Adam. We went to this one restaurant called 800 degrees, pretty good. When we were walking out of the place we felt how warm and breezy it was and concluded that we needed to go to a park or something just to be outside. We went to the environmental center at about 11 pm. I think that's the time when I find it the most peaceful. I recorded a few samples of these birds we kept hearing along with a babbling brook. My favorite sound of all though was when we stopped walking and the birds stopped chirping and it was silent.

Life of Pi (up to page 224)

I apologize for not posting in such a long time. This post will be difficult, I'm not too much into the writing mood at the moment, more the music mood. But anyway....

So many things have happened since my last post. The boat Pi, his family and the zoo animals were on sank on its way to Canada. Some crew threw Pi down into a lifeboat with a life jacket, miraculously not hurting him. It then shows Pi, yelling to Richard Parker, the tiger, to swim harder to make it to the lifeboat, where a zebra with a broken leg already has joined him. Eventually it comes down to Pi, Richard Parker, a spotted Hyena, the crippled zebra and later an orangutan named Orange Juice. The hyena kills and eats the zebra. Pi doesn't know Richard Parker is on the boat under the tarpaulin until after the Hyena kills OJ and Richard Parker kills the Hyena. Crazy stuff. Many days go by. Pi finds that the lifeboat is luckily equipped with many tools and rations for survival, including these solar still devices which convert sea water to fresh drinking water. Pi calculates that he has 90+ days to live on the food and water alone, without making use of the fishing gear that is supplied. But, wisely, Pi fishes. The part that really stuck out to me, and that I could relate to, was when Pi has to kill a fish to use for bait, the first sentient being he has killed, being a vegetarian.

I very much wish that I could say I haven't killed an animal on purpose. There was the time when, young and foolish, I declared war on a large colony of ants living in the cracks of my driveway. I used all sorts of methods to kill them: A hammer, my fingers, my shoes, magnifying glass, water, etc... That incident was probably my low point, the time where I was on the exact opposite side of the spectrum of beliefs where I am now. Then, 11-ish, I was an overweight, Christian, selfish, straight-F's loser of a kid. I'm so thankful for Time's power to change people, though that sounds selfish. Now, 17 going on 18, I am a healthy, happy, open minded, compassionate, tree-hugging vegetarian. Enough about me though.

Action List 4.27.11

I really like Dewdrops on Daisies' blog the best. Her post about the artwork at spring arts week is my favorite. I really like the effort she puts into her blog too. I wish I wasn't too lazy to add pictures like she does to each of her posts.

Tuesday's Action List

I chose to review Dan and Shannan's home. I really love how they take their gardening so seriously. I would love to be able to grow my own food; to do so is like you never existed on earth (in a good way) like, you aren't depriving nature of its food, in a way. I know it's "natural" to eat the food nature presents, but if you have a choice, why not do what you feel is right? That's my motivation behind being a vegetarian and eventually becoming a vegan. But, back to the home. I also love how they really only use the simple, necessary facilities their home includes. The TV in the living room looks unused and the ping pong table the place where they have a lot of their fun. I really was amused by the question sheet the photographer made for the couple, too. I laughed, probably out loud, when I saw the little drawing of weed and the "(sshhhh)" in the diagram of their garden. I sort of figured they smoked.

Life of Pi (up to page 86)

These pages I read on the way to Chicago with Miqueas and my parents. Of course, with my style of memory, it is difficult to really picture what is happening in the book visually because when I think upon a certain happening in the book I see whatever I was looking out the window at when I heard that part, if I wasn't following along. Right now I'm listening to the new Panda Bear song from NPR's website. Anyway, I really enjoyed Pi's telling of his finding of faith, or more like faiths. The mixture of Islam, Christianity and Hinduism is an interesting one; it reminds me the final episode of Lost. He hasn't into his story about Richard Parker quite yet, but I'm patiently following along with what he's telling now. I got this really cool animated kangaroo bookmark from this bookstore in Downer's Grove in Chicago, and currently it marks the beginning of chapter 33 which I will start with again soon enough.

Life of Pi (pages 1-30)

So, I greatly enjoyed "Cloud Atlas" so far, but the other day I came upon "Life of Pi" and remembered how I've always wanted to read it. I put Cloud Atlas on hold and have decided to read this instead, nontheless. So far it's very insightful. The introduction is basically the author telling the reader how he has had some trouble writing for a while and went to India for inspiration. Just as he was about to give up, he tells, he meets a man in a Pondicherry cafe who tells him he has a story that will make hiim believe in god. Skeptical, Yann, the author of the book, invites the man to continue. Apparently, Yann is gripped by the true story and immediately seeks out Piscine Molitor Patel, the main character of the story and transcribes his telling of the tale into what becomes the actual book. The story thus far is an autobiography of Piscine "Pi" Patel, who is now telling stories of growing up in India. What really got me interested is how he talked about zoos and the animals living in them. Though I still don't believe animals should be kept in zoos, his thoughts have made zoos seem less evil to me. They aren't horrible places, zoos. I love animals enough that going and seeing them in person helps reassure me that not all captive to humans are being tortured or eaten. Many do understand the necessary compassion we should have for them, and in turn provide food and shelter for them in return for their presence. I've kept reciting the lyrics of "Animals" by Cocorosie in my head these past few weeks. I recommend it.

Action List 3.22.11

1000 Awesome Things: This site is really cool! How fun it would be to create a list of similar situations in life. The first one to catch my eye was "Opening a new can of Tennis Balls and smelling them." aaaahhhhhhhh that's a great moment. "When all the Blood rushes to your foot after it was asleep" is another awesome one. I want to write a song about that feeling.

Favorite Daily Poem so far: I think, if I had to choose one, that "Those Winter Sunday's" is one of my favorite poems we've had this semester. I think it invokes more senses than others do upon reading it. The "blueblack cold" gives me the image of the gray-blue light that comes through my bedroom window when I accidentally wake up at 4 or 5am before the sun rises. The part in which the dad makes a fire gives me the familiar sensation of sitting before the fireplace in early December with the heat on my face and a itchy blanket wrapped around my shoulders. Though the author seems to remember the mornings when he got up early for church, unlike any specific memories I have, I feel I can still easily relate.

Children's Book assesment

Most of the picture books made before the 1900's are pretty trippy, in my opinion. I wouldn't doubt that many kids back then were haunted by characters like 'Struwwelpeter' or that lady with the point chin. My favorite illustrations are by Arthur Rackham, 1867. My most memorable by far is "The Carrot Seed" by Ruth Krauss; I almost forgot about how my mom read it to me back in the day.

Cloud Atlas p. 1-44 (AKA my first post in forever)

Phew! OK, I'm sorry that I haven't been able to post anything in a while; I've been really busy with work and such. I'll be sure to make this one lengthy and detailed.

But anyway, the book I'm reading now is Called "Cloud Atlas" by David Mitchell, and so far, it's suuuuper interesting. From what Mr. Hill has told me, it seems to be a collection of six stories, all intertwined in some way and all from different viewpoints and styles of diction. The first story, or chapter I guess, is a series of entries in the 'Pacific Journal' of one Adam Ewing. Written in the early 1800's, this journal is Ewing's rosary of adventure, or maybe more like scribblings of his stressors. In his somewhat Cavalier accounts of living in South America, for reasons unknown, he uses a dialect I find strikingly obscure. For example, he says "His pidgin delivered his tale brokenly, so its substance only shall I endeavor to set down here."
Once you get used to his style, the journal is pretty gripping. When the journal ended with... "& morning watches so both starboard & port shifts might" (it cuts there and begins the next story of the book) I was kicked with a sense of confusion and even laughed a bit. The ending of Ewing's journal is one of those instances in a book that humors me and keeps me reading. I paused a bit after reading that and thought about why it might have stopped so abruptly. My favorite of my theories is that maybe the boat he was on hit a huge rock or a sandbar. Or maybe he was just axed in the back of the head in mid sentence. Take your pick. Heh, that reminds me of the mystery behind the "Fall Be Kind" album cover (seen here). My friend Miqueas and I spent like 10 minutes staring at it and trying to make something out. I think it's a super-close up of a dog's eye whose watching as his master is about to axed unknowingly. Strange, indeed.

3.1 diction thingy for "At north farm"

A) traveling, toward, you, goes, sky, speed, thing, has, piled.

B) Elevation: Medium, imminent.
Connotation: Poetic
Sound: More musical than harsh, almost sounds like an airplane flying at top speed low to the ground.
Concreteness: About in the middle.

C) I feel that John Ashbery, in his poem "At North Farm", is using routine and mellow diction to inform about the imminence of life. By this, I mean that one decision someone makes on the other side of the world can make its way here and affect you. His use of imagery in the second half of the poem describing the farm almost stings the reader's mind into a sanguine and accepting mood. The first half seals your own fate while the second helps you forget about it.

Unfortunate but....

First off, I'd like to apologize for how badly written this is, I'm listening to music while writing it.

Last night on our way home from watching Oddsac at Miqueas's house, Allie and I ran out of gas. We came to the stop sign here and couldn't take off again. So i got out and told the cars behind us to go around and stuff then called home and told my mom the situation. She was pissed, as I expected. So after about 10 minutes of listening to NPR and telling people to go around my parents arrived with a gas can. But, when trying to start it up again, the car wouldn't start because the battery was dead. Lovely. We took Allie and my mom then went back with jumper cables. Just as we were getting back to the car, it was being towed. So we followed the tow truck to the impounding lot and they were closed so we had to come back today, jump it and pay $70.

Pretty unlucky, all in all, but I'm really not even that upset about it all. It's whatever.

Amazing

Listen | StoryCorps

TDLK Finished (spoilers)

Finally finished The Dart League King during my 2-hour detention yesterday. I really, truly loved the ending. I loved the mystery of what happened to Kelly Ashton. Even if she died, anyone can still consider it a happy ending, somehow. In this one night, Russel Harmon emerges from his shell of immaturity and substance with a beautiful concept of life. He will care for his daughter, not with the same, obsessive nervosa he used earlier that night to deal with his concentration of his dart games, but in a new, fresh method of compassion and paternalism.
The last few chapters kept me guessing. It wasn't until I realized that I was on the second to last page that I came to the conclusion that, however this thing ended, it was going to be brief and powerful. And I was right.

Working

"I don't mind Working,
I'd rather be on hills of sand." - Avey Tare

I got a job, finally. I was roaming around the jobs page on Craigslist and replied to a post about a food server at a retirement home. I told the employer, John S., that I've always loved senior citizens and was currently looking for work. Luckily, he was looking to hire high-school students because of their availability during the weekends and during dinner hours. I met with John at Arbor Glen Retirement Community off of St. Joe road, filled out an application and talked with him briefly about what I'd be doing. Pretty basic things.
I am excited, however, to start actually doing something with my time.

test

This is just a test of the blogger app to see if it works. If you can't see this, it doesn't....

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7

The Dart League King 1

I'm so into this book! Unfortunately, I keep forgetting to blog regularly for this book. But anyway, I love how the author changes the rhythm and structure between characters. The overall flow of the book is full of detail but still tends to keep a layed-back tone throughout. There were some parts, especially the part about Tristan, that shocked me and made me want to keep reading. Things like that, I believe, are signs of a good book. Also, I keep catching myself thinking in 3rd person. Sometimes I'll be walking through the hallway for example thinking, "Eric has always been fond of how the school-day seems to carry out in a casual, yet interesting pace. He's always been fond of how, even in his least-favorite classes, the subject matter of the day makes him think. He does think too much, however. He thinks so much that it has gotten to the point where his focus and intellect have melded, creating a monster the gobbles up his sanity everyday around 5th period and makes him think in 3rd person. Poor Eric."

Agh....

Yesterday could have been the worst day of my life. For about a week, I was anxiously waiting to hear the news from my mom about her biopsy results -- she had an irregular mammogram. Sunday night, subconsciously restless lying in bed, I couldn't fall asleep until about 1 AM. I woke up at 5AM from a nightmare, the first I've had for at least a year. During lunch I fell asleep in a beanbag chair in the library and woke up about 10 into the second half of 5th period, Algebra 2 with Lamping. He was rather pissed upon my arrival, I could tell. After he finished lecturing, he approached my desk with a rumbling voice, "Where've you been?", he asked.
I could have easily told a lie, such as: "I had an emergency and had to go the bathroom", etc.; Rather, I told the truth, as I'm cursed to always do, and admitted to have nodded off in the purple beanbag chair next to the children's books in the IMC. Tilting his head, he told me I was truant.
So, now I have a 2-hour detention sometime soon. But luckily, the day got better when I talked to my mom and she told me that her test results were OK. The petty truancy issue melted away.

Mr Lucky Duck

Great Job!

Snow day

Spent the entire day inside with my mom. Accomplished nothing other than making some memories and saving a ladybug's life when I was in the shower. The ladybug had what looked like eggs on her back, all the more reason to let her crawl onto my finger and place her on the windowsill. There were a couple of instances today when I thought, "Hey, I should put that in my blog!", but then forgot what my idea was. One thing I do remember was when I cut open the seed pod of the mango I had for breakfast and tried to plant the seed. We're out of soil, unfortunately.

Into the Wild Finished

Just got done reading Into the Wild. I loved it, to say the least.

Into the Wild 3

Read for about 2 hours last night. Almost done! I loved Krakauer's story about his journey to the summit of Devil's Thumb. I laughed loudly too when Chris's insurance forms he filled out in South Dakota read, "Iris F***you" for the first and last name.

Into The Wild 2

Second post for John Krakauer's "Into the Wild". So much has happened so far I can't even differentiate one detail from the next. Chris is just heading for Alaska now from South Dakota. My favorite part so far in the book is when he is canoeing across Mexico into the ocean. This part, I think, has the best imagery, and I also love how Chris's journal entries are in 3rd person. Such a adventurous book, though. Planning on finishing it either tonight or tomorrow in detention...... From last semester's tardies. Haha.

"Into the Wild" 1

This is my first post for my reading of "Into the Wild"

So far it's really interesting. I read it whenever I can in school, even though I've gotten myself into trouble by reading it a couple of times. The plot, to me, is an idea that has always been genuinely interesting to me. The book is basically an look into the very true stories, travels and eventual death of Chris McCandless. Chris, who changes his name to Alex, decides one day to completely abandon his sheltered, middle-class life in Atlanta and treks west. His intent was to live off of the land completely. He burns his money, leaves his car in a park with the keys in it and sets off on foot with only a 10 lb bag of rice, a field guide to edible plants and the shirt on his back. He didn't have a direction, really; However, immensely inspired by Jack London's "Call of the Wild", his goal was Alaska, where he dies. The book began with an account of the last person to see him alive then the next chapter is the finding of his body, which only weighed 67 lbs at the time of the autopsy. So far, again, it is an amazingly detailed and original story.

Taken in the gardens behind the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Really beautiful place in the fall.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bomkgXeDkE < Probably one of the funniest things ever

"Creativity": Another 11 pages

a whopping 7 pages really doesn't sound like all that much, i know. it would, however, if you knew exactly how potent this book is. each paragraph, no, each sentence is enough to make you think for a little bit. i realize now that i'm probably going to have to take the reading of this book into moderation; for it just requires more mental endurance than i am willing to dish out every school-night. i'm probably going to start reading "into the wild" tomorrow, just to help balance it all out.

"Creativity" log #1

I have begin to read "Creativity: the magical synthesis" for my Etymology class and have come to find it extremely intriguing. This book basically covers every aspect, idea and question of the psychology of creativity. So far I've read an overview about the difference between spontaneity, originality and creativity. As it went into the explanation of spontaneity it mentioned a technique used in psychoanalysis called 'free association'. This is what really made me want to keep reading. Free association, as it explained, was where the patient would lay down and completely relaxed his/her mind and simply say absolutely that came to mind; Any images, ideas, sounds, theories, etc., would pour out of him/her as pure, raw creativity. The process, to me, is one of the most interesting things I have ever come across, and it was only page 7. More to come, for sure.