Words Are Cheap, But They Can Turn Out Expensive

I have learned that my name is not my name. It seems you all know me and nothing could be further from the truth and yet you know me better than I know myself, perhaps better than I can know myself.” (Percival Everett).

The quote above is an excerpt from Percval Everett’s I Am Not Sidney Poitier. This was also the epigraph that inspired my first blog post this semester. Upon reflecting on this quote I can now see the full weight these words have on this course. The main message from this passage is the concept of identity. The passage hints at questions such as “who am I?” and “who am I to others?”. Identity is something that Percival Everett has talked about in numerous interviews. For example, in an interview on November 15th, 2012, Everett addressed his interest in identity stating; “Well I think that every work of art is about the theme of identity of some kind and there’s identity of the work itself. So, in that way I’m fascinated by it. I’m also fascinated by it, not only racially, but I’ve always been fascinated by that thing that is self-identity.”. It is easy to see the theme of “self-identity” throughout the works by Everett my class has read this semester. The novels Frenzy and I Am Not Sidney Poitier both depict characters searching for the idea of self identity.

In Frenzy the character Vlepo is who is searching for his identity. A being created by the god of wine Dionysus, Vlepo’s existence is dependant on the life of his creator. Neither human or god, Vlepo searches for his identity within the novel. This is shown in this interaction between Dionysus and Vlepo; “Dionysus smiled. ‘You’re not like them.’ ‘Then who am I like?’ ”(Everett 88-9). In I Am Not Sidney Poitier, the character Not Sidney Poitier struggles with his identity as a young black man who looks strikingly similar to Sidney Poitier, and even shares a very similar name. The character of Percival Everett says it best when he and Not Sidney are discussing Not Sidney’s identity. “ ‘I know, I know, you’re Not Sidney Poitier and also not Sidney Poitier, but in a strange way you are Sidney Poitier as much as you’re anyone.’ ”(Everett 102). Upon reading these two examples I became aware of the scope in which the literature we have read this semester emphasise the idea of identity.

This is my understanding as it is now, that identity is a crucial part to the works we have read; but what does this mean in terms of my take away in this course? Going back to that first epigraph I would like to note my original take away, so I may show the growth that has taken place this semester. I said in my first blog post “Many times it is hard to see an author’s perception of a story because we are so caught up in our own interpretations and ideas. My goal is to be able to read a work of literature and see the lens which the author is using to perceive an idea that has been said before.”. Looking at this now this is the exact opposite of what my feelings are now. Now, I have an understanding that it doesn’t matter what the author intends, it matters what the text is stating. Everett himself said in an interview from August 23, 2017:  “I never speak to what my work might mean. If I could, I would write pamphlets instead of novels. And if I offered what the work means, I would be wrong. The work is smarter than I am. Art is smarter than us.”.

My understanding of literature throughout this course has taken a complete 180, and I am happy because of it. I came into the first class of English 203 a scornful person who lived in a world of absolutes. I even defended scorn in class at one point. However, through class discussion and interpreting Everett’s work on identity I have grown to be able to see the grey in the world and the benefits of it. In all honesty I feel more emotionally fulfilled by the world around me when I view it in the way this course has taught me. My family has always known me to be a stubborn, fiery spirit, stoked with anxiety. This course, and Everett’s work has given me the ability to let things go. When something angers me, or makes me want to be scornful, I am more understanding and forgiving.  I have shifted from a predominantly fixed mindset to a growth mindset.

In Everett’s book of poems Re: f(gesture) the poem Zulus is a catalog of references to other texts, and events. One poem that is referenced is one title The Beasts by Walt Whitman. This poem follows a narrator’s desire to leave human torments behind, and their admiration for the animals. “They do not sweat and whine about their condition; They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins; They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God; Not one is dissatisfied- not one is demented with the mania of owning things.”(Whitman). My mentality at the start of the semester was akin to the human torments that The Beasts describes. I sweated over my condition, and I was dissatisfied. As I stand now, I am much more content with what, where, and who I am. 

In other words, this course has been a sort of therapy for me. Anxiety and the torments of being human clouded my sight to the beauties of humanity. These beauties are something I discussed in my post titled Subjective Perspective of (Logic). “There is a certain beauty in the fact that humans can even communicate at all, yet we fail to acknowledge it because it is so routine.” As a person with an anxiety disorder, it is easy for me to be frantic and hastey. My life was swept in the routine nature of day to day life, and I failed to see the beauties of life that I see now. Much of my growth that occurred during this course stems from the simple words Professor McCoy said in her comment on my first blog post; “SLOW DOWN. This REALLY applies to you!”. Professor McCoy in this case was referring to my writing but it was also what I needed to do with my way of life. I needed to slow down and appreciate the beauties around me. 

It is clear to me that over the course of this semester my identity has changed quite a bit from the anxiety ridden, close minded writer I once was. This change and growth of identity can only be credited to my peers, Everett’s writing, and Professor McCoy herself. By reading works such as Frenzy, I Am Not Sidney Poitier, and Re: f(gesture) I have a better understanding of what identity meant in this course, and how my growth in my own identity was a very Everettian transformation. This is my take away from Everett’s message of identity. Identity changes, as did my own identity did over the course of this semester. As has become somewhat of a habit in my blog posts, I will leave you with some lyrics from a song. This song I believe summarizes the message of self-identity transformation, and my take away from this course. It summarizes where I was before this course and leaves me with a message that is very Everettian. This song is called Tenderness by General Public from 1984.

“I don’t know where I am but I know I don’t like it

I open my mouth and out pops something spiteful

Words are so cheap

But they can turn out expensive

Words like conviction can turn into a sentence”

Links to previous blog posts mentioned;

A̖̘͕̳̻ͨͦ͛͑̎ ͑ͅis̘̬̼͍̻̠̓ͨ̋ͭ̈ͪ ̦ͮf̦̑o̽̒r̻̱͊̓͡ ̛ͫa̟̮̖̥̪̿ͤ̃͑̚͠p̹̙̞̫͇ͅp̻͉̠̠͓͇̯̑̍͆̆̈́̇̓l̙͉͇̽̐̚ḙ̭ͤ̉,̔́ ̊͌̒ͣͦͯͨB̗̰ͤͮ́ͅ ͕͛i̷͚͇̓̅s̪̘̰̈͗̒ ̜̟̰̗̱̮̣f͉̳͈̮͍ͅo̫̪r̠̻̩̯̪̳͖̈ͩ̌ͣ͗̈̚ ͗̀̇͋ͭḅ̩̬̱̐̏̏̏ę̘̖̩̪̗̅̈͋͋̚e̹̫̹͈͚̱͈̾ͬ͂̂̌͗ͣ͢,͑ͮ́̓ͦͤ̈́҉ ̸͖̖̩̬̟̫̅ͦ͂ͤͥͬC̟̹ͅ ̴i̡͉͖̲͚̯ͨͥ̋ͭ̏s̅ͦ ̪̭͇͚̲͜f̲͚͛̀̓ͅor̜̳̼ͦ͐ͭ̕ P͈̺̺ͨ̍̌h́͒̾ͦ̓ͯ͘’ͮ̅ͦ́n̂́͠g̜͊ļ̪͒u̫̜͓̠ͩͧ̆̏i̳̳͔̟ͤͪ̈̓ ̯̻͚̥̻̝̀m̿̑̓̄̋͏̻̱͓͙͈g̣͈̳͙̼͉l͏̹̱̜̣̺̰w͖ͬ’̺͎̰͎ͨ̌́ͣn̳͍̖̮ͨ̌͛̄a̩̝̻̺̺ͅf̖̅h̔́̾ ̦͍̦̲̖̻ͭͬ̂̈̃͌C͘t̛hͪͮ͆̃u̙̠̭̥̲̾̈̓͑̾lͬh͕͞u̵̟ ̿R’l̪̙͖̩̫̯̍̈ͮͥ̽ͭ͢y̼̣̲ͥ͑ͭe͔ͬh ͯͩ͆̐͛w͚̻̣ͬͨ̂g͑ͫ̉̋ͣ̈ͯă̈h͇̜̦̦̩͈̐̎̾͐̓̚’n̂͐͗̅ͩ̓ͭag͕̠̟̙͓ͪͬ̂ͨ̾l fh̹̮̥̺͉tͯ͐̐ͥͬ̚a̙̺͖̥͔̩͆̄ͥ͌̿ͦ͑ͅg͓͕n̛͎̣͙̥ͫ̍̎ͮ…̶

In recent discussions of structure, a controversy has been whether structure is an appropriate tool to measure how much knowledge is disseminated. On one hand, Shelagh Neely argues that “Structure reminds me of a foundation. A foundation that you start off with and work your way up the ladder of writing a paper, a poem, a book, or even a blog post.” From this perspective, set forms, such as the abecedarian, are solid foundations which allow for knowledge to be transmitted clearly. On the other hand, however, others argue that it is impossible for knowledge to be organized in a manner that expresses information coherently. In the words of H. P. Lovecraft, one of this view’s main proponents, “[t]he most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents” (1). According to this view, structure is inadequate because humans are fallible, and cannot connect information enough to discover Truth. In sum, then, the issue is whether we can trust that creative and informational works are created upon a trustworthy foundation, or if the limits of human knowledge are the true “walls” (Neely) that subjectively define our truths. Continue reading “A̖̘͕̳̻ͨͦ͛͑̎ ͑ͅis̘̬̼͍̻̠̓ͨ̋ͭ̈ͪ ̦ͮf̦̑o̽̒r̻̱͊̓͡ ̛ͫa̟̮̖̥̪̿ͤ̃͑̚͠p̹̙̞̫͇ͅp̻͉̠̠͓͇̯̑̍͆̆̈́̇̓l̙͉͇̽̐̚ḙ̭ͤ̉,̔́ ̊͌̒ͣͦͯͨB̗̰ͤͮ́ͅ ͕͛i̷͚͇̓̅s̪̘̰̈͗̒ ̜̟̰̗̱̮̣f͉̳͈̮͍ͅo̫̪r̠̻̩̯̪̳͖̈ͩ̌ͣ͗̈̚ ͗̀̇͋ͭḅ̩̬̱̐̏̏̏ę̘̖̩̪̗̅̈͋͋̚e̹̫̹͈͚̱͈̾ͬ͂̂̌͗ͣ͢,͑ͮ́̓ͦͤ̈́҉ ̸͖̖̩̬̟̫̅ͦ͂ͤͥͬC̟̹ͅ ̴i̡͉͖̲͚̯ͨͥ̋ͭ̏s̅ͦ ̪̭͇͚̲͜f̲͚͛̀̓ͅor̜̳̼ͦ͐ͭ̕ P͈̺̺ͨ̍̌h́͒̾ͦ̓ͯ͘’ͮ̅ͦ́n̂́͠g̜͊ļ̪͒u̫̜͓̠ͩͧ̆̏i̳̳͔̟ͤͪ̈̓ ̯̻͚̥̻̝̀m̿̑̓̄̋͏̻̱͓͙͈g̣͈̳͙̼͉l͏̹̱̜̣̺̰w͖ͬ’̺͎̰͎ͨ̌́ͣn̳͍̖̮ͨ̌͛̄a̩̝̻̺̺ͅf̖̅h̔́̾ ̦͍̦̲̖̻ͭͬ̂̈̃͌C͘t̛hͪͮ͆̃u̙̠̭̥̲̾̈̓͑̾lͬh͕͞u̵̟ ̿R’l̪̙͖̩̫̯̍̈ͮͥ̽ͭ͢y̼̣̲ͥ͑ͭe͔ͬh ͯͩ͆̐͛w͚̻̣ͬͨ̂g͑ͫ̉̋ͣ̈ͯă̈h͇̜̦̦̩͈̐̎̾͐̓̚’n̂͐͗̅ͩ̓ͭag͕̠̟̙͓ͪͬ̂ͨ̾l fh̹̮̥̺͉tͯ͐̐ͥͬ̚a̙̺͖̥͔̩͆̄ͥ͌̿ͦ͑ͅg͓͕n̛͎̣͙̥ͫ̍̎ͮ…̶”

Ya Like Jazz?

Percival Everett’s Zulus intervenes in the kind of social tensions that Jerry Seinfeld outlines in Bee Movie. More specifically, the poems exists in conversation with Bee Movie, suggesting the impossibility of liberty from our external realms.

In the world of Bee Movie (2007), bees receive their jobs as soon as they graduate from college. They are assigned niche roles in the honey-making factory, “Honex: A Division of Honesco:  A Part of the Hexagon Group” (Seinfeld 8). According to Trudy, who guides Barry and his friend, Adam, around the factory, “Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it’s done well, means a lot. There are over 3000 different bee occupations. But choose carefully, because you’ll stay in the job that you pick for the rest of your life” (Seinfeld 10). Barry panics when he realizes that he will be in the same job forever, questioning whether the Honex will “just work us to death,” to which Trudy cheerfully replies, “we’ll sure try” (Seinfeld 10). Continue reading “Ya Like Jazz?”

The Beasts

“O is for owning things

‘… Demented with the mania…’

A bad idea in general.”

This is an excerpt from Percival Everett’s Re: f(gesture), in a poem titled Zulus. This was an excerpt that, when I first read it, caught my attention immediately. I can not explain why in particular, perhaps it was the phrase “demented with the mania” tapping into my love of Poe, and Burton. Either way, I found myself attracted to this phrase. The poem Zulus is a poem “organized” in alphabetical order, and is composed of almost entirely allusions to other texts, or other events. I figured that the first step in finding any perceivable meaning in this excerpt was to go down Everett’s rabbit hole of allusions. 

After some time searching I found the phrase “demented with the mania” is from a poem by Walt Whitman titled The Beasts. This poem is told from the first person perspective and describes the narrator’s desire to be one of the animals in the wild. The narrator provides their desire with substantial reasoning, and that reasoning raises beautiful philosophical notions. For example, the narrator speaks of the animals “They do not sweat and whine about their condition; They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins;”(Whitman). This poem presented itself to me as a poem by a man sick of the negatives of the human condition, of human society. This perspective seems very Everettian to me. Much of what Everett’s writing invokes, is a sense of disparity at the state of humanity. Everett seems to scoff at the sensitivity of today’s society, and the lack of resilience in much of today’s thinking.

Everett was interviewed on April 15th, 2019 by The Rumpus, where he explained some of his disdain when asked how the current political climate inspired his new book, The Book of Training by Colonel Hap Thompson of Roanoke, VA, 1843: Annotated From the Library of John C. Calhoun. This is a fairly long excerpt from the interview but I do not want to take away from Everett’s response, as I see every word as important. 

 “I mean, I had white friends coming up to me and saying that they felt like their life was over because Trump was elected, and I said, ‘Well, that’s cause you’re white. The shit’s never hit the fan for you before.’ So, part of it was thinking about how the shit has always been in the fan for us as blacks, and part of it was all these slave narratives being portrayed in pop culture and literature. 12 Years a Slave, give me a break! I am not interested in 12 Years a Slave. I’m interested in one hundred and eighty-five years a slave!”

Here we can see Everett’s similarities to Walt Whitman’s narration in the poem The Beasts. Both Everett and Whitman invoke a disdain for the whiners of the world, when in fact they have not much to whine about. I do not mean to be political and say that the election of Donald Trump is something that shouldn’t be seen as a destructive decision on the part of the U.S, I am purely pointing out Whitman and Everett’s perspective on, as Dave Chappelle put it, “brittle spirits”.

In a world where there are actual injustices why sit and complain about the small ones? I am currently finishing my History of Black Lives Matter class, where we trace Black oppression from before the Reconstruction Era to today, and how it lead to the Black Lives Matter movement. In this class we learned of the many racial injustices plaguing the U.S to this day. With an understanding of these forms of oppression today, I am personally peeved when I hear someone complain about the nominal things in life. When people complain that they are offended by something someone said such as “are you sure you want more food?”, or any other number of rude comments. Of course that person is rude, but we must think of these things in the perspective of what others around us go through. I do not meant to rant, I simply state these things because I found myself connecting to the thinking Everett and Whitman displayed in their respective texts.

In many of my blog posts I have talked about reserving scorn, about being more kind, but there is a very important distinction I believe I should make. Reserving scorn does not only mean to be kind to those you meet, it also means to move on from the scorn of others. When someone insults you, we can not let it beat us down, we can not let it define our future days. If we let scorn define who we are to become, we will not be what we could be. From personal experience, I was bullied as a kid. I was overweight, a consequence of genetics, and strange, a consequence of creativity. I, however, did not let my bullies determine my future. I lost weight, became my highschool’s rugby captain, and played with the band Wilco before 10,000 people. I know I can get too grand and philosophical with some of my blog posts, but I believe that understanding Whitman’s, Everett’s, and my thinking can help reserve scorn. We not only must reserve scorn against people we do not connect with, but with people who use scorn against us. An eye for an eye leaves the world blind, and it is incredible that a sentence is ever understood.

7 (6)

Percival Everett’s poem “6” from the Logic section of his book re: f(gesture) is, interestingly enough, not about six, but rather about seven. The poem opens with “Seven men / can be obliterated” (Everett 70). Following this, seven becomes the focal point of the poem, mentioned seven times including this first instance. I found this intriguing and definitely ironic; why is seven so important that it’s in the spotlight of a poem called “6”?

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Middle Fingers to Order

A few weeks ago in class, Dr. McCoy asked us to line up in alphabetical order by last name. For a relatively large group of people, I think we were able to accomplish the task pretty quickly. Everyone seemed to have a general awareness of where in the line-up they would fall. Having been ordered in this way for most of our public lives, we had grown used to it. While discussing this later in the class period, my classmates and I questioned why we often situate things alphabetically. Thinking of dictionaries, The Bedford, work cited pages, and indexes, we determined that the reason is ultimately to make things easier to organize. Many people learn their ABCs when they’re very young children and they don’t ever forget them; it makes sense to use something so deeply ingrained in our heads to organize most of our lives.

My classmate Sarah brought up an interesting point, however; what even is alphabetical order? Why are the letters even listed in the specific order that they are? Everyone in my group laughed a little; none of us knew the answer to these questions, and we felt a bit silly–why are we so keen on following alphabetical order when we don’t even know why the order exists in the first place?

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Logic and Common Sense

I tend to associate the term logic with the idea of common sense, or practical sense. I assume that it takes basic knowledge or common sense to be able to break down a math problem, such as 5 times 5. As a student who progressed through both elementary as well as high school math courses, I know how to break this down. I count the number five, five times, and that is how I find the answer. But, to another individual who did not receive the same education as I did, this is not common sense. They may question why they must add up the number five, five separate times. Or, without me having learned the foundation of addition and multiplication in the first place, I, too, would have no idea what I am doing. Logic is way more complex than it is said to be; it is in fact not common sense.

The term logic, as defined by Lexico, is “Reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity.” The term is well associated with a recent class discussion in which our class discussed a section of poems, entitled “(Logic)”, in Percival Everett’s re:f (gesture) anthology. While as a class we tried to break each poem down, piece by piece, I know I continued to struggle with figuring out how to interpret the words.

One of the readings in this section ignited the most confusion for me, as it is written, “Let us assume X./ Even such signs have/ some place, some/ language X./ Constituent parts/ compose this reality–/ molecules, atoms, simple/ X” (66). 

To start, there is no practical knowledge within these statements. I do not understand how my knowledge can apply specifically to, “Constituent parts/ compose this reality…”. What does this even mean? How is this logical in the sense that it is regarded as common sense? Then, there is the aspect that there is math written in the English language. Math and English are two completely different languages, each with different meanings and symbols. It says, “Let us assume X” which appears as the start of a mathematical equation or a statement written in words. But, aside from its linguistic structure, nothing about this reading actually makes sense or encompasses the foundation of the English language. How would I know what “molecules, atoms, simple / X” means without having previously studied that branch of science? This is not common sense.

The term sense, within the phrasing of common sense, according to Lexico, is “a way in which an expression or a situation can be interpreted; a meaning.” While in some regards this definition does live up to its expectations because in order to make sense of logic I must find meaning and make interpretations, in other ways it does not associate. When piecing together the terms common and sense, common means that it is something that is known or that many people tend to know, and sense is the meaning or interpretation. This essentially implies that common sense, even in logic, is known by everyone because of the fact that it is categorized as common sense. But doesn’t that accumulate more confusion for people who do not have a basis for this knowledge?

Last year I was in an Introduction to Logic class to fulfill a math credit since I preferred to take an “easier” class than one like calculus where I would be drained of all of my energy. I went into this class as a second semester freshman under the impression that there would be very limited brain work in this course. I had the saying “Logic is common sense” in my head, convincing me that I made the right choice to enroll and that I would receive an easy A. I could not have been more wrong. I would approximate that for 90% of the semester, I was completely unsure of what I was being taught. I would attend the Teacher Assistant hours during the week, overwhelmed by the continuous sequences on the board, trying my hardest to go back and understand the foundation of the work my class was doing. Logic requires understanding various formulas in order to break statements down. Logic includes knowing how to prove the validity or invalidity of mathematical statements, and to be able to interpret oddly shaped symbols.

One questionable validity or invalidity statement written on the board one day said, “Mr. Aarons is a wolf but also a professor.” How was I supposed to know how to interpret this or answer this? How does one go from having a prefix of mister, to identifying as an animal and then also a professor? How was I to infer whether this statement written in English was invalid while using math? And most importantly, how was I to prove that this was a logical statement when nothing that was written made sense or had the foundation for common sense?

My roommate, who was also in my class, stared at me with the most confused expression on her face. Neither of us knew what we were doing.

In light of both this course as well as Everett’s anthological section “(Logic)”, it can be explicitly said that logic is indeed not common sense. To succeed, an abundance of brain power is necessary, as well as outside mathematical knowledge.

What’s in a name?

Percival Everett’s abecedarian set of poems Zulus from his book re: f(gesture) comments on the importance of naming children. On two separate occasions, the speaker states, “Always name offspring” (Everett 20, 28). Zulus makes a statement on the power of names, and their necessity in forming identities; it highlights the tragedy that can occur when a name–the first gateway into identity–is carelessly left blank.

The cautionary phrase is first evoked in the “F” section of Zulus: “F is for Frankenstein, / who did not name his baby. / Always name offspring” (20). I have actually just read the romantic novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley in my Nature of Inquiry class, and the speaker’s statement could not be more accurate. Many people think (myself included until I read the novel) that “Frankenstein” is the name of the re-animated monster in the story, mainly because modern-day media often portrays it as such. In actuality, Frankenstein is really the last name of the scientist who creates the monster, Victor Frankenstein. In the original novel, the monster is nameless, generally referred to as the “creature.”

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H is for Teleology

In Percival Everett’s re: f (gesture), the abecedarian poem Zulus contains a multitude of allusions to a variety of people, places, stories, and more. In sifting through these many references, one in particular stood out to me among the rest. The speaker states, “H is for horrors, / so full of them we dine, / for humanity, / on bent Kantian trees” (Everett 22). I had never heard of a Kantian tree before, so using the logic of my last blog post (Archive and Intertextuality), I took to my favorite archive–Google–to see what I could find.

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