Shit? Art? or Both?
Hello My Lovelies!
I've been racking my brain trying to make head or tail of this novel by Robindronath (notice the lack of a's when its an "o" sound in the spelling, and yes that IS how it should be, says Ipshita) which is proving to be very difficult, due to the fact that it is a translation. I had really wanted to head over to Robarts and read it in Bangla, but did not have the time and am cursing at myself for letting this happen. I have no problems with Profs who do not give you a specific question to write your paper on, niether do I mind it when they give you very very specific ones because with the former you can get away with almost anything as long as it's well written and with the latter I find it easier to be creative as creativity can only breed from being told what you cannot do. This opinion was established even more firmly after coming into contact with a lot of Postmodern Art by Torontonians (my topic today is in reference to one such Torontonian who constructed something he called the Shit Machine -- please let your imaginations run wild). Will post more on that another time. Anyhow, so this Kathleen O'Connel woman who is unfortunately my professor, has not given us a question for our paper but little-little hints as to what she wants. This makes me want to say - if you have something particular in mind that you want us to do then why the hell don't you just TELL US? Argh. So now I'm working on a Book Report which "isn't really" a book report. And it doesn't help to have to work from a translation.
The Good News is that I am a really good BS'er once I give up trying to extract any real meaning from somethign and make stuff up. And although this ensures me good grades it leaves me feeling very stupid and pissed off at myself for caving and writing things that I don't feel strongly about, things that are so superficial, things that I write because I know they will get me the grades. But then, if I truly wanted to write for the sake of writing... to write something insightful then I wouldn't be in university trying to please someone else who couldn't make it, now would I? This epiphany has lead me to realise that Term Papers Kill Creativity and that is the reaosn why most English majors sound like term papers when they speak. And the ones that don't are the true geniuses (such as I).
* If you will notice, I have repeatedly used Buts and Ands to start my sentences; this is me rebelling!
posted by goBgoB at 1:54 p.m.
6 Comments:
u still sound like an english major to me! :D *jealous smile!*
6:39 p.m.
u mean an unconventional one, right? a genius type??? :P in which case - thanks :D
12:58 p.m.
Y'know, if you want to spell Robindronath as Robindronath ie with the "o" (I do that as well) ie spell it phonetically, as opposed to the conventional method (which queerly tends to adhere to the pronunciations in sanskrit...although lately the indians have come forward to change the former Calcutta to Kolkata -- as it should be -- they seem to be rather apathetic about Mr. Thakur: notice, once again, how what should be Thakur is conventionally spelled Tagore...which does not sound anything similar to the poor fella's real name), I think you should change the way you spelled the title of your previous entry.
*rolls eyes*
Because the postalveolar "sh" can't be represented with just an "s" (although most of us bangladeshis got this nasty habit of pretending it can) because it produces just the alveolar "s" sound as in "sand", "safe"...and ofcourse "sound".
ZeroHertz
6:10 p.m.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
9:05 p.m.
I'm sorry but where does it say on this blog that I want phonics lessons?
The song "Aso Aso Pasey Aso" is composed by Deraj Patnaik whom I know personally, therefore can say with full authority is written in the language Oriya. That's right my dear, not Bangla. And just in case you still don't get it, in Oriya it is said "aSo aSo paSey aSo" and NOT "asho asho pashey asho". Since you're so keen, you might want give a closer read to my last post. Hint: look at the first sentence. You're welcome.
Also, the next time you want to be a smartass please oblige us by leaving us your name, spelled phonetically ofcourse, so that we may serenade you.
Most importantly: don't tell me how to run my blog, asshole. In fact, please don't ever come back.
9:36 p.m.
OK so you were obviously offended, although I never had the slightest intention to do that. Sorry about that.
However, I believe I will indeed restrain from posting comments to your blogs any further.
1:58 a.m.
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