A Good Man is Hard to Find

This song, written by singer/songwriter/genius Sufjan Stevens, tells the story of "A Good Man is Hard to Find", but interestingly, from the perspective of "The Misfit". Lyrics below the video:


Once in the backyard,
she was once like me,
she was once like me.
Twice when I killed them,
they were once at peace,
they were once like me.

Hold to your gun, man,
and put off all your peace,
put off all the beast.
Paid a full of these, I wait for it,
but someone's once like me.
She was once like me.

I once was better.
I put off all my grief.
I put off all my grief.
And so I go to hell, I wait for it,
but someone's left me creased.
And Someone's left me creased

Picture Prompt

Pick one of the following pictures. Once you have selected a picture, your job is to write a one page (double spaced) writing piece based on the picture. This can take any form, be it creative, a letter, etc. The response must be based upon things in the picture.

The Dinner Party (CP 2)

by Joshua Ferris

http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2008/08/11/080811fi_fiction_ferris?printable=true

Make sure you finish reading this story by Monday and come in prepared to discuss.

Joseph Campbell and The Monomyth (CP 1)

Here are some online resources I found regarding Joseph Campbell and his work with the Monomyth.


This video may not work on your computers during school, but it will work when you get home:



Wiki article on The Monomyth

Joseph Campbell biography (with many links!)

My Chair (CP 2)

My chair rarely sits evenly on carpet or floorboards. One of its legs, like my own, is slightly longer than the rest. My chair wobbles precariously from the left to the right, from friend to enemy, from honesty to deception. Be careful when you use it; vicious splinters jut dangerously from the seat. One splinter screams, “Where will the future take you?” while another bellows, “Be careful whom you trust”. These are hard to dig out with fingernails, my friends. The chair back bends back for the brother I’ve carried along for far too long. The parallel slats are now permanently perpendicular from sudden deaths and shocking revelations—as if they lean forward to make sure they heard correctly. My chair is rickety, worn, and tired.
But my chair refuses to take its place by the side of the road; to face the callous-gloved garbage-men of tomorrow’s dawn. My chair has a heart carved into the bottom of the seat, ancient, yes, but refusing to fade. My chair has a shocking bit of blue paint clinging to its spine, a reminder that even the cloudiest day has a bold sky behind it. My chair can be used at weddings, funerals, birthdays and poker games—it is very versatile.
I’ve carried this chair for nearly a quarter of a century; through four presidents, three houses, and countless experiences both good and bad. There were moments when I nearly buckled under the weight of it—the fear of failure, the endless work, the burden of being the oldest child—but my knees stayed strong; because when I hold my chair at just the right angle, at just the right time of day, the sun has a way of shining through the wicker seat and falling gently on my head; and it reminds me that although sometimes the weight can be unbearable, it is my weight, it is my story, and it is my privilege to carry it for one more day.

Sisyphus (CP 2)

http://www.mythweb.com/encyc/entries/sisyphus.html

You don't need    to leave    your room.
Remain sitting at your table and listen.
Don't      even      listen  ,      simply   wait.
Don't             even                wait.
Be  quite      still  and      solitary.
The world will freely offer itself to you.
To be unmasked,  it has no choice.
It  will  roll in  ecstasy at your feet.

-Franz Kafka

Strange Days, Indeed (Quite Peculiar, Momma)

Results of recent surfing...






http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bailout