I woke up with sunshine blanketing my body, my cat at my head and my dog at my feet. I've concocted a brew of greasy French roast coffee with cream and sugar and cinnamon... and today I am going to attempt that seven pager (a good start anyway) on that Virginia Woolf paper. As for my thesis statement, I still need on explanatory metaphor and to change a passive sentence into an active one... but I'm close enough to get started with it.
I have a plan... I'm going to take V.W.'s two short stories and write "between the lines." Her words in black, mine in red. I'm going to try to figure out what she is doing sentence by sentence, thought by thought. I'm going to plant myself smack dab in the middle of her mind and hope that she reveals herself to me. What I'll do with it afterwards is still undecided. I guess I'll just cross my fingers and hope her ghost whispers in my ear, moves my fingers across the keyboard. Fuck epistemic...I'm going all out expressivist... an exorcism will be in order when I'm done. Call the priests.
As for my preoccupation with passive thought (as revealed through word choice)... where did I pick that up from? Do women write more passively than men? If so, why? Oh, but that's a different topic. Today I'm going to stay on task.
1 comment:
Hey, you got the last letter upside down. it's a M. VM. geeze.
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