My Literary Tastes

As I have expressed before, I am a recovering literary elitist. The cliché greats, e.g. Kafka, Dickens, Shakespeare and Keats tickle my fancy the most. However, I have found that I am now seeking out the “lesser known classics.” For AP English, I was assigned Shusaku Endo’s Deep River, and was blown away. It is a little known Japanese novel, but centers upon a study of Christian morality and world culture, plus the style (although translated), was quite intriguing. So while I will never quit Hemingway, Faulkner and Joyce, I still look for lesser known classics.

To successfully search for these “hidden classics”, I had to research world literature. Some of the classics that I have found are Julien Green’s Moira and Kurt Vonnegut’s Mother Night. Granted, Vonnegut is a popular name in American Literature, but the work in particular is not one of his better known novels, and I found it more pleasing than both Breakfast of Champions and Cat’s Cradle.

So as far as novels go, I have come to the conclusion that I will more or less read anything, but I tend to go for the works with most popular names. In terms of poetry, I am sad to say I am still an elitist. I have read a lot of poetry by less reputable authors (I do not want to name names), and with the exception of Charles Bukowski who is my anti-hero, I have not found many of them pleasing. Only Keats, Yeats and the like satisfy my desire for poetry. As I am beginning to write poetry, I am light years away from their level of greatness with verse, but I it is not going to stop me from trying (just bear with me until I get it right!). It may be that I still need to read more of this “great” poetry, to be able to see that other poets are close to the same level, but I cannot break the spell that Wordsworth and Donne have on me.

While it may be unfair, I have a great taste for poetry in other languages, namely Hebrew, Latin and Spanish. (I am working on my study of Koine Greek, but I am not advanced enough to read poetry in it). The study of Virgil (I am unsure if I prefer ‘Vergil’ or ‘Virgil’) has greatly expanded my tastes in poetry, and even one word from Vergil (‘vitiossimus’ for example) have inspired entire poems! While it may be unfair, I find the poets in those three languages most likeable, for it helps me with my study of languages. However, "Gloriossimus", my potentiam magnum opus is on hold, for I do not feel as if it deserves to be completed, considering my current prospects for education in the next year.

Overall, my taste in literature is still for the greatest of the great, but if I can read a lesser known author in their common tongue, I will read that as well. I am always looking for that classic that skipped the clutches of literary critics for the most part. Any suggestions for works are appreciated, except Treasure Island. Most importantly, I incorporate what I read into my writing, even if I do not notice it. So if you find some Virgil, Keats or Faulkner mixed in with the inferior writings of Brian Hillman, it is because I have read them so extensively.

I Haven't Pleased the Gods Sufficiently

So today I was deffered from the University of Chicago. I am not exceedingly surprized, but I am dissapointed. It was one of the top schools on my list, and I would have liked not to worry for the next three months. I fear that this shrieking harbinger will be the pattern of my future, but what do I know? Actually, I know I am applying to 11 other fine institutions, and I hope that I can impress one of them. The idea of going to Chicago is not over, but its done for right now. I can attempt to feign optimism but at this point I wonder if I'll ever go to college and become the reputible scholar that I hope to be.

What I Want out of Life

I feel that it behooves me to clarify what I actually want out of life, and why I do some of the things I do. First and foremost, I want to be a writer and a scholar. For as long as I can remember (or at least since I realized I was not going to the NBA), I have been driven by intellectual pursuits and have found exceedingly great joy in these activities. I have had this preoccupation with where I go to college becuase I want to attend an institution that will give me the opportunity to achieve those goals, and in an enviornment that promotes such activities.

My first intellectual love is mathematics. Yes, I know I am not the best at BC Calculus or AP statistics, but there is something comforting about mathematics; the world makes sense! Mathematics is the most comforting of all the intellectual pursuits, and while I am very tallented with the integers, I never got the hang of taking mathematics exams. So I have accepted the fact that I am not the next Riemann, and turned my pursuits to literature.

Literature is my favorite form of art, and I believe that I have some talent from it. (While some may knock the last poem, it is Bukowskian, and while it is fragmented I am satsified). Literature also breeds a great amount of scholarship and intellectual argument, and I feel that I can contribute to it.

Philosophy is my third love, but philosophy is exceedingly frustrating. However, I believe that I am a talented enough thinker to be a sucessful philosophy scholar, and I want to pursue that.

Lastly, I have a great fascination with language and linguistics, and things that others find tedious I find fascinating.

With these interests, (math, literature, linguistics and philosophy), I believe that I am a fairly unique and diverse intellectual, and I want to pursue my scholarly endeavors in said disciplines, save for mathematics. I want to attened a top-tier institution, for I beleive that it will expose me to like-minded students and professors, that share in my "boring" intelllectual passions. All I want out of life is to be a respected scholar in whatever field(s) of study I enter. Of course I would love to be a published philosopher, poet, novelist and essayist, but who wouldnt?

Another Day of Waiting

So for some reason or another the notification date for The University of Chicago is not today. I do not know what sort of misunderstanding went down between myself and the illustrious university. I should be finding out next week, I appologize to all those who have had to go through this process of waiting and anticipation, and will have to deal with it until I am notified. I shall post any sort of update. Thanks, and I am sorry for whatever misunderstanding went down.

Watching Troy Fall

I am still working on Gloriossimus, but when you find your muse, you mustn't pass up the opportunity to write. I am still beyond nervous about the University of Chicago, and I would like to congratulate those who have successfully gained entrace to the institution of their choice; hopefully, I will soon be joinging your ranks, but if not there are an abundance of other ones which I would love to attend, and if it isn't meant to be, the institutions which reject me are passing up a commited student, intellectual, scholar and writer. (I need to stop using run-on sentences, or stop letting Faulkner influences me.) Here goes the poem.


Watching Troy Fall

How I am saddened by this impending, inevitable apocalypse
And how I feel like I am the culprit of such a grave calamity.

I could have saved Troy,
But now I stand far atop the hillside,
Waiting for the last stones to fall,
Brick to crumble, and embers to burn.

My hopes are the Trojans,
My dreams the Teucrians,

And no ocean could extinguish the
Flames consuming the city.

For lo!, I could have saved Troy,
But now I am the only one left to watch it fall.

Mildly Haughty

In attempting to execute the plan stated in my previous post, I found my muse once again and wrote this poem. I am not exceedingly pleased with how it came out, but its good enough. It may be revised, expanded or both, but for now I deem it postworthy. I am unsure of a good title, but it is a mildy haughty poem, and shall be title such, at least temporarily.

A Mildly Haughty But Honest Poem

As the days pass,
The tides come and go,
The trees die and come back to life,
I sit in my chair
Listen to Beethoven
Read Vonnegut
Drink Iced Coffee
And try to pen the next
Great work of art.

The world changes,
Friends come and go,
And I try to be the next
Fitgerald, P. Vergilius Maro or
Bukowski sober.

And 99 percent of my friends,
Acquaintances and enemies try
To become the next businessman,
Lawyer, doctor, or high school teacher,
And
I try to become the next
Tennyson, Yeats, Dante.
And my closest friends died
Before I was born,
And never knew them.
And they find their
Friends in neighbors, classmates et cetera.
Sometimes I wonder if it would be
A favorable existence to live
The other way,
Then I realize that I am not being
True to myself.