Thursday, March 09, 2006
Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe
And so it begins...
The wrenching together of my master's thesis is underway; it's going to be a long and arduous project. I should have done an amalgamation of other work I’ve written over the years, pasted together under one heading. That would have been easier. And why did I decide to do this fiction piece with a critical preface? Was I conned? Am I now insane? It could be both.
Nevertheless, I find myself traveling the dark, misty and foreboding road or Edgar Allan Poe— his fiction, his life. I feel as if I’m well on my way to the House of Usher, and god knows what’s waiting for me inside. What bothers me most are the nightmares; one does not study Poe without them (this should be studied.) That will be my PhD dissertation. Or, for my MFA, I will write of the man who went mad reading Poe, who locked himself into a steamer trunk just to get away.
Oh, the irony. ¶ 6:37 PM
The wrenching together of my master's thesis is underway; it's going to be a long and arduous project. I should have done an amalgamation of other work I’ve written over the years, pasted together under one heading. That would have been easier. And why did I decide to do this fiction piece with a critical preface? Was I conned? Am I now insane? It could be both.
Nevertheless, I find myself traveling the dark, misty and foreboding road or Edgar Allan Poe— his fiction, his life. I feel as if I’m well on my way to the House of Usher, and god knows what’s waiting for me inside. What bothers me most are the nightmares; one does not study Poe without them (this should be studied.) That will be my PhD dissertation. Or, for my MFA, I will write of the man who went mad reading Poe, who locked himself into a steamer trunk just to get away.
Oh, the irony. ¶ 6:37 PM
