Ralph sat quietly,
Attentively,
Working on this and that,
And planning for the night

And so it came,
Sweeping through the town,
And he knew –

The time had come
Long strides –

Deep thoughts,
He reviewed the plan

For the times to come,
Punctual to the dot,
He knew how well he planned the spot,
To be one with grace

And to meet the perfect face

Knock knock he went
And come in she said.
Feeling jittery,
He just spread his grin

What a delight,
What beauty there was that night,
A voice of heaven,
He longed for the goddess to follow his equation,

And after the long night,
With dancing, talk, and festive light,
It was time –
To say goodnight, and yet he paused, deviation?

* Take on a new hobby for a week, like maybe photography, smoking, or reading poetry, then quit.

With Angelic Purity

She stood before him,
Leaning in,
He looked normal — but nervous,
His breath fresh — teeth clean
What am I to do?
Formulating what people attract to,
Before the times are there,
Before the touch of her hair,

Before the allure of the room,
The smell of perfume,
O dreadful equations,
How you mock me tonight

Now temptation joined guilt,
An unforgettable evening for both,
Yet he knew,
Planning made straight all the askew

O how she knows me,
A mocker of perfections with a twinkle of the mind,
Always an option to explore,
Yet always breathing a lie

And now it was all too good,
He just didn’t know how it could,
Be this easy to capture the rose,
Where was the thorn?

But he had chosen a path,
One of persuasion and power,
And so he went in,
And touched faces with the alluring flower.

* Ponder what this leaves you with, take a moment to make sure there isn’t a triceratops behind you, and then take the following entitled He Thought as a surrogate to With Angelic Purity

He Thought

Her beauty was like the theory of relativity,
Powerful,
Overwhelming,
Perfect

Ralph had always been good,
at equations,
So in a cool and stylish manner he said,
Would you honor me with a goodbye kiss?

She smiled,
He held the power,
Her heart tipping and lips lonely,
She accelerated

With highly efficient celerity
He responded,
You misunderstood,
Tomorrow morning.

And just then look of total shock conquered her face like
Dihydrogen-Monoxide did the world.
Obstinacy conquering their thoughts,
With effusions of mind, emotion, all out of control.

||

Her hand accelerated and then rapidly decelerated upon contact with another mass.
Face in pain from such a slap,
Hand to face,
Head up to head down,
Love to tears,

Wait, I — and Slam Bam Boom!
He turned around in anger and loss,
His thoughts ridiculing the world for being too crazy,
And there she was…

The last one,
Her eyes squinting with Ares’ rage,
Mouth open in disbelief,
She turned in disgust and said with a guttural despicability
Ughhh… Slam!

* You can treat this next section again as a surrogate for the last one. Please pause for how much time each day you usually spend thinking about rainbows, but not for longer than it takes you to compute how much time you devote to thinking about them. Please, no calculators. Go on.

|

They exploded without scruples,
As if someone had stuck rockets in their asses,
Lips touching and wrapped in each other,
They ran into a king’s bed and had a

Good Night

You sit by the window,
And stare off and wonder,
What can you do at all divine,
Something, maybe just a line,

And she guides you through your mind,
For she knows a path you’ve never taken,
She’s holding on to you,
Holding on for something to come,

And you don’t dream to let go,
She keeps holding on to you,
And you dream the unreal of what you wonder,
And you wonder what if your dreams were true,

So before the time that you lose her,
For the day must one day come,
You warm up to a glow until,
Until a triceratops comes.

Prior to Albert’s arrival, Fredrick was really enjoying his opportunity to have the apartment to himself, and made sure to dress for the occasion. With feet enveloped with very puffy, fuzzy, even playful looking green triceratops slippers sprinkled with red polka dots — the rest of his body wrapped in a large, warm looking blanket, he had truly mastered the cozy look.

Albert was wearing a worn countenance and his custom made Brioni suit. Starting at an exorbitant four grand and worn mostly by European Aristocracy and Hollywood heavyweights like James Bond’s Pierce Brosnan, this compilation of fabrics was by no means an average outfit. Because of the limited clientele that can meet the price tag, the real Brioni productions are made to measure for a limited number of elite customers, a privileged group that included Albert.

Somehow even with all of James Bond’s secret agent stunts, Brosnan’s suit still managed to look newer than Albert’s. Still, thought Fredrick, his image goes nicely with his job as the quality assurance manager of Reptilitus Inc., a new business software company that had recently exploded so much that they decided to put their fifty story World Headquarters in uptown Manhattan, above all to show the world that they weren’t just another paltry company headed for destitution.

Knowing Albert was in his presence merely from the way his one key made no jingle before opening the door, Fredrick said without even bothering to look up “Home kind of early aren’t you?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

“Well,” replied Fredrick with a slight smirk on his face, “my boss gave all of his employees a very pleasant surprise today when he told us all that we could take the rest of the day off just before our lunch break. I remember his exact words. At this point he placed his magazine down, stood up, and with a complete metamorphosis of tone said the following. ‘Attention please, attention. I want you allll to have a very Merry Christmas — aaand seeing as how we’ve got better things to do with our time than sit at our new desks and pretend to work when I happen to walk by, I’m letting you all go home early on Christmas Eve.’” It was a damn good impression. “Seeing such generosity in that old, ugly coot really touched my heart.” Fredrick made sure to enthusiastically pat his chest, slowly and conspicuously, no less than four times, as if he were somewhere between having a heart attack and falling in love.

Albert’s face now began to contort wildly. Wrinkles started to appear. He had started to breathe heavily. Wild noises were now filling the room, coming from none other than Albert himself!

The truth is, he was laughing.

“So what’s your excuse?” asked Fredrick.

“Well… my boss actually did the same exact thing,” Albert said as his heart began beating rather quickly now. “Maybe all the bosses got together at some conference and decided it was better to give everyone a half day, eh?” he said trying to ease his feelings of tension.

“But… aren’t you the boss?” asked Jack with a hint of curiosity and confusion.

Albert pondered what he had just said briefly and then wasn’t sure how to respond. After a moment’s time too long he countered with a shrewd quality “You can never be the boss of everything.”

Knowing very well that Jack and Fredrick worked together at the local travel agency, Albert quickly said “Hey so how come Jack’s not back yet?”

“Oh he said he had to go run some errands,” said Fredrick. He was careful not to tell Albert about how Fredrick was probably in a never-ending line at the mall right now buying presents with the Christmas bonus everyone at the agency had received.

“Oh. That actually sounds like a good idea,” said Albert, putting on his leather gloves and switching jackets as he walked towards the door.

“Leaving so soon? You just got back home!” Cried Fredrick, clearly looking for a reason as to why Albert would come home only to leave right away.

Hesitating slightly, Albert averted his eyes away from Fredrick’s and noticed a Lazyboy catalog lying over the newspaper. “Oh I’ve got to go to the furniture store to pick up a couple of things. I heard they’re having one of those blowout sales.”

Fredrick, having known Albert since childhood, was now remembering the last time they had gone to a furniture store together. The pair of them went looking for a new armchair. The one they had at the time was Jack’s old one from college. It was also grinding holes into the floor because of its pointy legs and one of its arms had downright fallen off. Albert said he wanted to go to the bathroom, and the two of them went. As Fredrick was in the process of splashing Albert’s pants with water to make it look like he had peed himself, a cell phone rang and the fun died. Two minutes later, Albert practically ran out of the store muttering something about his friend’s car braking down close by… They currently own the same armchair, and it’s armless.

By now, Albert noticed a slightly puzzled look growing across Fredrick’s face as though he wanted a more thorough explanation.

“Well I’ll see you later,” said Albert quickly while walking out the door sensing his roommate’s disbelief.

That day, even with his stomach grumbling for the Chilean Seabass he used to have with his girlfriend every Wednesday evening, Albert didn’t eat at all. He decided to walk to the store instead of taking a cab as was once his daily routine. Oh how he missed the convenience of taking the taxi to and from everywhere he went. It was the fastest way to get around the city if you had the money for it. However, his lifestyle was now very different from what it used to be: He no longer ate at the great restaurants the city had to offer, he no longer bought his outfits at prominent designer stores, and found himself having a daily life more austere than he could ever remember it ever being. He sometimes missed how his secretary used to always greet him with a smile upon entry. It had been weeks since he had talked to anyone from the office. Making a note not to be desiring of so many things, he set off on a bit of a journey to the electronics store in Queens that had what he needed.

Early the following morning when Fredrick awoke and walked over to get his daily bowl of cereal, he noticed Jack was already up.

As he walked further towards the kitchen he noticed Jack’s expression to be one very different from his usually jolly and energetic friend and roommate. “You’re looking a bit tired today. You haven’t been out partying with Albert have you?”

“No, I wish. It’s kind of a long story, but I can tell you this. I never want to go Christmas shopping again,” he said with repugnance in his voice.

“Oh I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad. What happened?”

“All right. I went to the electronics store to buy Albert that new Super Audio CD player that we agreed to get him. You know, the sleek one with the speedy 6 CD carousel feature?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah well it turns out that in the ten minutes in between the time I called to ask an employee if they had any left and my arrival at the store, some greedy shoppers bought all 17 of them.”

“Those greedy bastards, they really have no shame. So wait, you didn’t get one? That’ll make the Super Audio CD collection I got him completely useless!”

“Hold on, there’s more,” said Jack quickly, now seeming to sense both anger and concern in Fredrick’s tone. “After that I decided the best thing to do was to check online to see if any nearby stores carried them.”

“So did you find it?” asked Fredrick apprehensively, his hand now subconsciously tapping on the table.

“Well there was this one electronics store that seemed to have predicted very well what people were going to be buying over the holidays. I called and the manager told me himself that he had plenty in stock and he could even reserve one for me. The only problem was that it was somewhere upstate in a town I had never heard of. I spent almost a good hour getting there, another hour finding Albert’s gift and waiting in line for it, and then almost two hours driving home at night in the pouring rain. I woke up early to wrap the present and write something on the card.

“So you got it?”

Jack felt disappointed that Fredrick didn’t really care about how hard his night was. “Yea, it’s in my room,” he replied insipidly.

“So what do you think Albert got us?” asked Fredrick with a smirk on his face. “It better be something really good.

“Yeah, I hope it’s a boat. I never thought I’d be on a boat.”

“Or a nautical themed, Pashmina Afghan.”

“You know how much he makes at that monster company that he like practically owns or whatever.”

“And I would know this how?”

“I dunno, well anyway he said he was going to the furniture store yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Hey maybe he got us some those matching leather swivel armchairs that we were talking about a few months ago!”

“I don’t know Fredrick, you weren’t all that serious about it. Besides, they probably don’t even sell them anymore.”

“Think about it though. You remember the three of us went out for breakfast to some diner, and we brought along our mail to check while they made our food. You had a… a… a lazyboy catalog! Albert was with us that day and said that that pair would fit nicely with the apartment’s décor.”

With that comment Fredrick now remembered how it had gone down. A bird fluttered down onto the ledge and could be seen outside the window. Fredrick averted his attention accordingly.

Twenty three seconds and four minutes later, the bird flew away, aw geez.

As far as Jack could remember, every other sentence Albert made that day was some complaint about not wanting to spend a lot of time at the diner because he had a meeting to prepare for, but that swivel chair did seem to catch his interest. Then the bird came back and Jack ran to get his disposable camera.

“You know, I thought about the swivel chairs, and you may have something there,” said Jack as he went to go join Fredrick for breakfast. “So you think he’ll wake up soon?”

“Not sure.”

After a few hours, a familiar annoying beeping noise could be heard coming from Albert’s room. Both Fredrick and Jack scuttled anxiously to get the presents.

Albert awoke only to find himself in quite a large amount of pain from yesterday’s travels. Simply moving his legs to turn off his alarm felt like a journey in itself. Pain had now become one with movement, so much so that Albert had to bite his lip to keep from audibly expressing it.

He made his way slowly to the door, carefully stepping around the puddle of water at the foot of the coat rack from last night’s terrible walk home. He could hear footsteps just outside. Upon opening the door, Albert noticed his two roommates standing directly in front of him both holding large presents. He felt horrible.

“Hey Albert, glad to see you finally woke up sleepyhead!” said Jack in his usual cheerful tone. “Have we got something for you!”

“Oh this is too much. You guys shouldn’t have,” said Albert hoping that the gifts weren’t too lavish.

“Oh don’t mention it. Really,” said Fredrick also looking very merry. “Go on, open em’!”

Judging by their excitement, Albert knew that the gifts he was about to receive were ones Fredrick and Jack certainly seemed proud of giving. As they each handed him matching wrapped gifts, Albert began to worry about what was inside.

As he opened the first gift and saw two large collections of Super Audio CD’s, his heart sank. He had a feeling he knew what might be in the unopened box.

“We weren’t sure what to get you so we got the top rated albums of the year, according to some guy on Amazon.”

Albert then made a forced attempt at trying to seem surprised and happy by saying “This is awesome.” It seemed a bit flat. As Albert was immediately being handed the second present he hoped dearly that it wouldn’t be what he thought it was. As he sluggishly made his way through the wrapping paper his fear came to life. Sitting in front of him was a brand new, limited edition, super audio CD player worth some serious coin. He stood there speechless for a while, really starting to feel the weight of the audio component. This was heavy.

Not wanting to hurt their feelings by showing signs of not appreciating their gifts, Albert decided it was best to just try to play along for now. “Let me go into my room and get your presents.”

As Albert returned holding only two very small presents he noticed Jack’s eyebrows start to rise. They ascended more and more, eventually leading to a face so distorted it looked as though someone had molded it out of clay and had yet to finish the details.

“Happy Holidays guys.”

Fredrick almost hesitated to accept the gift. He remembered how last year Albert had given them season passes to one of the best (and most expensive) ski resorts in the Northeast.

“Whoa nice” yelped Jack. “It’s a photography book! Thanks Albert, this is great, I’m sure it’ll come in handy.” Jack bought himself a new Nikon a couple of weeks ago and fiddled with it every day like a 7 year old riding his first 2 wheeler. Albert looked him in the eye, saw sincerity and happiness, and felt warmth upon him.

“I’m glad you like it.” Jack stretched his arms around Albert and gave him a quick hug.

Fredrick was still unwrapping his gift slowly only to find that it was in a box that bore a label he hadn’t heard of. It looked like he was going to get clothes. Fredrick wondered if maybe Albert had ordered him a suit. A suit would be great. He softly peeled the tape off of the boxes sides and felt for an edge. He closed his eyes, and in one swift swipe took the top lid off. So elated by his anxiety he opened one eye ever so slowly and peered down into the expected wonder. With mouth open, eyebrows slightly raised, his breath stopped, and a drop of sweat breaking on the side of his face, he saw it.

He saw that he had gotten… a shirt. It had a collar, some stripes, a couple of more buttons than normal, and some black and blue. It was, it was, it was — Contortions started, excitement was replaced by confusion, raised eyebrows lowered, and as Fredrick’s arms accelerated upwards with the shirt in hand and an empty box below him, he said without thinking, “cool, thanks.”

“Its stain and wrinkle resis–” but he was cut off.

“Yeah now I have something new to wear on weekends.”

Albert sensed some tension. Something was wrong. He could feel it. He thought it was a great shirt from a good designer and it was even wrinkle free. Wrinkle free! No hassles! No ironing! Fredrick hates ironing!

“Well, we’ve got to get going,” said Fredrick. We have a Christmas party to go to.”

It was fourteen minutes past one PM.

“Yea. It’s supposed to be the best Christmas party ever. You want to come Albert?”

“Su–,” and it happened again.

“Sorry Albert. Actually I’m allowed only one guest,” said Fredrick. “You understand don’t you?”

“Uhh, yea sure.”

“Besides, I’m sure you’ve got some fancy party to go to tonight.”

“Yea, one of my friends is having one,” he lied.

That night, Albert called his coworkers to ask if anyone was having a get-together that night.

“Hey Shelly. It’s Albert. A smile now ran across his face. “Really? Well that sounds good. All-right, see you then.”

A few days later, minutes after midnight on a particularly cold night in January, Fredrick and Jack were driving back into the city from a basketball game and decided to stop by at a relatively new twenty-four hour diner for a late night meal.

“I think they could have picked it up a bit more than they did second quarter,” said Jack as they sat down to wait to be helped. “I mean where was their defense? That was the turning point right there.”

“I still can’t believe they let–.”

“What did you say Fredrick?”

But now it wasn’t important at all, for standing before Fredrick, wearing a faded blue diner uniform was a worn face he knew all too well.

“Hey guys,” Albert said calmly “what can I get ya?”

Water spewed out of Fredrick’s mouth like a bad swimmer trying to breathe. It then proceeded to land mainly on Fredrick in a frenzied shower. It happened the way you see in movies and tv shows, the way it never happens in real life.

“Albert!”

“Fredrick, hey Jack.”

“Hey.”

“I thought – you were out tonight.”

“Yea. I kind of made a bad decision with the company. It cost a bit of money. They uhh… they let me go,” he said with a subtle shudder in his voice and his eyes fixed on the notepad in his hands. Albert was the kind of person that never liked showing weakness. He didn’t open up to anyone the way he had just now, admitting defeat, admitting failure. It felt as if he was telling them he had cancer. It was as big as a triceratops, heavy as a tub of mercury. It was everything. It was a stupid idea to get their table. This was all wrong, it felt like mental suicide.

Albert took their order with a smile, jotted everything down as normal, and walked back into the kitchen. He gave the cook the order, took off his uniform, walked out the back, went home, packed everything into his car, and never looked back.

Moscovici’s studies have found evidence that a minority can in fact have influence over a majority. But what factors manifest this influence?  Moscovici, Lage, and Naffrechoux (1969) found that minorities could influence the majority even when not endowed with power, status, or expertise. In later studies, Moscovici confirmed his two step process to gain influence as a minority. First the minority had to create a conflict with the majority norm, an accepted idea. Then, to exert influence, the minority needed to be consistent to appear confident and knowledgeable. Current research suggests that consistency is the foundation of minority influence, yet I will argue that status, as a supplement to consistency, also plays a major role. As long as the minority appears consistent, status could potentially bolster the conversion effect, in three main ways. First, those with the status of an “expert” on a subject could be more influential than those of the same status. Second, people who value the traits associated with dissenters might join in the dissent in order to be attributed those traits. Finally, people may publicly agree with a minority opinion in order to join the company of a minority with a desired social status.

The effect of expert status on a group of naïve subjects could be demonstrated using the experimental methodology of the Moscovici, Lage, and Naffrechoux study. Confederates, who claimed, with consistency and conviction, that blue shapes were actually green, were able to influence some of the test subjects to make the same claim. In that study, the confederates were of no higher status than the test subjects. However, it is possible to create a variation on this design such that the confederates are proclaimed expert on color. The expert confederates would likely have had a greater influence over the naïve subjects than did the inexpert confederates, and their opinion might even become the majority. The subjects would be more likely to question themselves, and find the confederate opinion legitimate. In addition, some would publicly agree with the confederates in order to put themselves in the same status, but would disagree privately, and still know that the shapes were blue. This contradicts Moscovici (1980), who argued that minority influence tends to change the subject’s idea privately, but without a change publicly. Conversely, majority influence tends to change the subject’s idea publicy, but not privately. He termed the effect of minority influence conversion, and majority influence compliance. However, it seems that when status is involve, the minority gains a degree of majority influence as well, as expert opinion can increase both compliance and conversion.Certain people may also join any consistent minority to increase their own status, instead of only giving weight to high-status minorities. As we discussed in class, the UC Berkeley student who consistently protested in support of nudity had certain attributes—conviction, daring, fearlessness—that can be applied to any minority seeking to influence others. Students who publicly supported the movement were attributed the same characteristics, which are considered desirable, especially among young men. Even though the supporters may have not been interested in having the same sanity of educational status as the leader, and may not have believed his arguments, they could have joined the minority publicly to improve their own social status. Once again, students who supported the movement publicly may have privately disagreed, but being part of any major movement is considered desirable. Certain societal norms gave the minority position more status and therefore more influence. For instance, many high school and college students value chaos and passion. Apathy is considered low status. The promise of increasing one’s status simply by agreeing with a minority may be a tempting option.

This theory carries over to many high school and college situations. These age groups value risk-taking and individuality, and also feel alienated from society as a whole. Individualistic cultures emphasize the value of standing out and being different, so minorities might have more influence in such cultures. At first, people seek ways to be individuals, and become inspired in some way. If two people have the same tastes, they may form a small group, settling on a style. A trend may be formed, depending on their status and consistency. At Stuyvesant High School from 1999-2003, a minority of students were very socially liberal. They happened to be more physically attractive than most of the other students. To be a part of this group, or perhaps because they respected the attractive people’s ideas, many students who previously acted one way began to get pierced, experiment with homosexuality, and go to liberal rallies. There seemed to be a definite conversion of ideas among most of these students, rather than compliance. The group gradually grew over four years, as Nemeth, Wachtler, and Endicott (1977) found that a larger minority was more likely to exert influence, since their argument was considered more credible if they had more supporters. The group partied together, sat in the hallways together, ate together, and went to outside rallies together.

At least one incident at Stuyvesant High School demonstrates how students can join a minority group with which they do not even agree. This liberal group decided to protest that the school no longer allowed students to leave the building during a free period. Most students did not care about this issue, and may have not even respected the liberal group. However, hundreds of students decided to skip their class and chant on the second floor that the rule was unfair. It was “fun” and “cool” and simple to protest against the establishment, so they joined the liberal group’s demonstration. When the administration threatened to suspend the protesters, those who were simply complying went back to class. The administration knew that most of the protesters would leave with that threat, because most students were not seriously interested in the issue, and had no credibility. Joining the minority in this protest consisted of mostly compliance rather than conversion, indicating that when minority influence includes status, and joining the group at least temporarily is simple, there can be a majority influence effect.

This minority group at Stuyvesant High School has grown due to their status and consistency to the point that New York Magazine covered the school in the February 6, 2006 issue, and wrote about petting in the school, cuddle parties, and widespread sexual experimentation. One line in particular mentioned that one of these liberal girls was dating the most popular boy in school. When this boy decided he wanted a committed relationship, the girl ended her playing with other girls. Her lack of commitment to her previous lifestyle shows that it had attained majority group status. The original members had all graduated, and the minority group no longer converted the new members. The minority group’s demonstrated lack of commitment to these ideas may soon further reduce their legitimacy, and the liberal ideas may prove to be a relic of the former student body that was rigid with their ideas. Since they are no longer at the high school, their influence might have diminished, and since they had no contact with the current students, the current students might lack good reasons for their ideas.

Conforming to a minority group produces a greater sense of belonging, rather than lacking a defined role, and may also increase status. As a result, people may join a minority not only because they agree with the minority, or because they wish to be seen as the same status, but also because they want to be part of a group, and because they want to be attributed the traits of minority protesters. When status is involved, a minority group may win more converts to their beliefs, but they will also gain compliance among some. This may give some minorities less credibility, knowing that some of their members may only be involved in order to increase their status.

With their spirit defeated, characters in both Carson McCullers’ novel The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter and the movie Fight Club felt like slaves. The American economy and culture made characters in each novel feel hopeless, depressed, or angry. However, through their struggles, the characters discovered that love uplifted them and presented the meaning of life.

As an African American, Dr. Copeland knew how enslavement felt. His people’s apathy towards a movement for equality of black people infuriated him. He felt like a slave. “But we are forced to sell our strength, our time, our souls during almost every hour that we live. We have been freed from one kind of slavery only to be delivered into another” (Heart 191). Dr. Copeland felt like no one understood his struggles. He dealt with racism on a regular basis. White people did not want him around, and viewed black people as inferior in a number of ways, including intelligence. Dr. Copeland tried to instill his beliefs in equality in his children, but they grew apart, and his wife left him. Dr. Copeland spent much of his time trying to help his people. “The grievous love he felt within him was too much” (190). He loved black people as though they were all his family. He wanted justice, and for them finally to live as free men and women, but they could not be free until they loved their people as he did.

Mick loved music, but came from a poor family, so her musical ambitions would have to wait until she had money. She tried to make a violin, but failed and grew frustrated. Mick wanted a piano, a radio, and music lessons, but she understood that her family’s poverty made these dreams impossible at that moment. Mick lost hope. She did not love God as Portia did, and thus felt hopeless. Portia told her, “But you haven’t never loved God nor even nair person. You hard and tough as cowhide. Your heart going to beat hard enough to kill you because you don’t love and don’t have peace.” Mick needed support, and she needed to feel at peace.

Yet upon meeting Mr. Singer, she became more hopeful. Mick found a supportive God figure in Singer. It looks like Mr. Singer has peace since he does not respond to noisy fights, and it appears that Singer knows what music Mick speaks of, because he cannot say otherwise. Her relationship with Singer energized her and she found time to do practice piano and go to school. “She loved him better than anyone in the family, better even than George or her Dad” (313). Singer’s purchase of a radio increased Mick’s love or him. The radio motivated and pleased her. She was most alive when music engulfed her.

Besides her poverty, her gender also made her a slave. When her family’s fortunes worsened, Mick felt responsibility to get a job. Unfortunately, the only jobs for a girl required that she miss school. Working drained Mick of her energy, and Singer’s suicide sapped her of her liveliness as well. Singer’s supportive face disappeared. A slave again, Mick retained just a sliver of hope, that one day she would have saved enough money for a piano.

Singer’s suicide resulted from his loss of the love that he relied on. John Singer clung to people who shared his disability. As a deaf mute, he had trouble communicating and making true friends. Yet he loved his friend Antonapoulos, despite his friend’s selfish behavior. “Sometimes he thought of Antonapoulos with awe and self-abasement, sometimes with pride, and always with love unchecked by criticism, free of will” (322). With Antonapoulos away at a mental institution, Singer felt alone and became depressed. Slowly, he entered the world without Antonapoulos, and met new friends. However, his love for Antonapoulos far exceeded his love of his new friends. It seems like these friends exist for him merely to tell Antonapoulos about. Singer always looked forward to meeting his friend in the future. Antonapoulos died, so naturally, without his love, Singer had no meaning in life. Singer felt incomplete, and put a bullet in his chest.

Fight Club’s Jack also had a meaningless life. Jack could not muster any courage or mental strength. He lost all hope. “This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time” (Fight Club 00:19:36). He too worked at a job that he hated. He became an insomniac with a mental illness. On one flight, Jack invented an alternate personality, a soap salesman named Tyler Durden, who worked to save him.

Jack had his life sucked out by his company. At work, he did not stand up for himself. He had to travel more than he liked, and his reports faced constant reprioritizing. Jack faced depression and insomnia. Everything seemed like “a copy of a copy of a copy” (00:04:08). Jack’s only goal was to have a fashionable wardrobe and a respectable apartment. “Like so many others, I had become a slave to the IKEA nesting instinct” (00:04:51). He wondered what kind of dining sets defined him as a person. He lost focus of his meaning for life, and sunk this low.

Jack and Tyler sought others who had hollow lives. In one scene, he found a convenience store clerk and threatened to kill him. The clerk wanted to be a veterinarian, but gave up because it took too long. He needed money. Tyler demanded that the clerk begin to follow his dream. Tyler assured Jack that the man would really begin to live then. Food would even taste better.

The fighting in the movie made the characters feel alive. No one told them what to do when they fought; they were in charge of themselves. Slavery ended.

By the end of the story, Tyler reminded Jack, “Think of everything we’ve accomplished” (00:02:59). Jack thought it over. “And suddenly, I realize that all of this: the gun, the bombs, the revolution, has got something to do with a girl named Marla Singer” (00:03:08). He saved her life, after Tyler tried to kill her. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry, because I’ve come to realize that I really like you Marla. I really do. I care about you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me. Marla: your life is in danger” (01:58:00).

In this movie, Marla resurrected a man who died internally. Without her, Jack had no reason to live. He wanted to die, and shot himself in the mouth, but when she arrived, he had a reason to live. He could credit everything he accomplished to Marla. He transformed from a spineless, emotionless slave, to a man who lived, and loved. Jack found love, and finally smiled.

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter and Fight Club overlap with their solutions to the struggles of life. With love, people lead meaningful lives. Without love, emptiness exists that eats away at their souls, leaving them hopeless ]]> http://www.clubwriting.com/2003/11/no-life-without-love/feed/ 0 http://www.clubwriting.com/2003/10/responsibility-or-death/ http://www.clubwriting.com/2003/10/responsibility-or-death/#comments Wed, 29 Oct 2003 15:09:20 +0000 Harris Beringer http://www.clubwriting.com/?p=8 As author John Irving might suggest, we live in a dangerous world. Irving always warns his children of danger, and admits The World According to Garp “is a novel about being careful, and about that not being enough,” (Garp Afterword). Irresponsible adventures plagued Jenny, T.S. Garp, Walt, and nearly every other character in Garp. At first, they believe the outcomes will be insignificant–a cough, perhaps–but they led to the “Under Toad” of maiming and death. This novel deals with the fear and unfamiliarity of death, and warns us about the future.

T.S. Garp lost a part of his ear to Bonkers the dog at age five. He carelessly ignored the dog’s history of violent outbursts. In one instance, Bonkers had mangled a volleyball, and then bit deeply into the forearm of the boy who tried to retrieve the ball. Yet as Bonkers approached Garp, Garp did not prevent the dog from hurling his body on him. Garp’s wounds eventually healed, and his hair covered his damaged ear, but he retaliated against Bonkers years later. Garp’s biting of the dog’s ear infuriated the Percy family.  The desire for revenge overwhelmed his ability to rationalize.

As Garp grew older, he did become somewhat aware of danger. Garp’s fearlessness was evident as a young boy when he captured a pigeon with a lacrosse stick on the Steering roof. After being stuck in the gutter, Garp narrowed his idea of safety to life on the ground. He had been “four stories above where the world was safe,” (38). With cars speeding down his neighborhood streets, Garp felt obligated to warn drivers to slow down. By then, Garp believed that as long as he was in control, he was safe. For example, in Garp’s dream, Duncan flew out of the airplane door because Garp does not lead him to the proper door. In another instance of Garp’s insistence on control, his story “Vigilance” details his car chasing and crime solving. Even though “Vigilance” is a story, Garp drew much of his ideas from his personal life. Garp’s novel The World According to Bensenhaver also details a man who wants to protect a family.

However, Garp still acted immaturely. At one point, he both refused to have the Volvo’s gearshift fixed, and insisted that Helen read his new literature. Making love to Helen came second on his list of wants, and he selfishly did not satisfy her desires. Helen’s dissatisfaction with Garp’s stubbornness and his previous infidelity lead Helen to cheat on Garp.

Once again, Garp acts on impulse in an effort to catch his wife with Milton.  Garp called home from the movie theater, where he took his children. When there was no answer, he rushed home.  His anger and curiosity about his wife’s affairs with Michael Milton clouded his judgement, so even unclear weather conditions and darkness did not prevent him from amusing his children with the typical reckless car trick. He coasted up his driveway, as he had done many times before. “Garp could feel the children at his elbow, crowding each other for the one favored position in the gap between the bucket seats,” (266). The children, figuring to have a thrilling bump in the car, instead severely injured themselves as the Volvo collided with Michael Milton’s huge Buick. Garp carelessly failed to make the world safe for his children, even though that remained his one wish.

Just a few years later, T.S. Garp started a quarrel with Ellen Jamesians. Tension already existed between them, yet he insisted on embarrassing them. His hatred of them stemmed from his disbelief that their self-mutilation was reasonable. He felt that the Ellen Jamesians simply could not say what they meant, so they removed their tongues to save themselves embarrassment. He bitterly mused dedicating his forthcoming novel, The World According to Bensenhaver to the Ellen Jamesians. “Don’t make trouble for yourself,” John Wolf said. “That’s just plain stupid,” (326). He also wrote some letters to humiliate them. What man in his right mind would actually try to convince a bunch of militant feminists, who had voluntarily removed their tongues, of their stupidity? Only a man ready for war should put himself in such a precarious position to prove his intellectual superiority to a deaf audience. Garp still felt unbeatable and superior. He even felt that if he attended his mother’s funeral in drag, he would go unnoticed. With his distinctive shape and voice, this idea seems unreasonable.

At this point in his life, Garp composed a strange poem about condoms, which he despised. “Garp felt his life was marred by condoms-man’s device to spare himself and others the consequences of his lust,” (397). This allows the realization of dangerous lust, with no perceived repercussions. Condoms corrupted Garp, allowing him to have sexual experiences that damaged his life, most notably, his sexual encounters with Cushie Percy. Jenny, too, felt that sexual relations with Michael Milton could not be too dangerous to the family, yet she lost a son as a result. Consequences in fact still existed for sex, but condoms shrouded the dangers. Perhaps this poem best signified his progression in learning the errors of his ways.

Even after the poem, though, Garp faced more struggles. “Provoked by the ‘typically male, aggressive, rapist personality of T.S. Garp,’” (402) an Ellen Jamesian attempted to murder T.S. Garp. After this near-death experience, Garp became a changed man. He attempted to end his problems with the Ellen Jamesians, and apologized. He disregarded any retaliatory statements by the Ellen Jamesians. With a clear, yet careful mind, Garp produced novels once more. He regained an imagination. Without enemies, Garp created thick plots, instead of drawing from personal experiences. Garp regained top form, and John Irving might suggest this is the best way to live. However, Irving reminds us that there remain consequences for actions. Garp’s condom filled affairs with Cushie, as well as his encounter with Bainbridge Percy at the funeral, angered Bainbridge to the point where she murdered him. At Jenny’s funeral, Garp called Bainbridge “Pooh,” a nickname she despised. She already disliked Garp for having sex with Cushie, and for biting the ear of her dog Bonkers. She equated Garp and Cushie’s sexual relations with Cushie’s death during childbirth. Since Garp knew that Bainbridge had mental problems, including her desire to wear diapers until her teenage years, these actions show a lack of sensibility. Irving punished Garp, as all characters who irresponsibly lived their lives were punished.

Dean Bodger entered the wrestling room as Garp lay there, dying. Garp thought back to the time when his body hung, suspended in the rain gutter and the Dean worked to save him. His thoughts repeated that he had been “four floors above where the world was safe,” but added, “The world was not safe,” (413). He finally concluded that it was not safe, despite the situation.

Jenny Field’s son always suspected his life would end at a young age. “Like my father,” Garp wrote, “I believe I have a knack for brevity. I’m a one-shot man,” (25). As a result, death fascinated him. In fact, as a writer, he saw only terminal cases. He explored death in his first work of fiction, The Pension Grillparzer, where seven of the eleven characters die. As he learned more about death, the idea occupied him more. Garp’s stories, which reflect his experiences and beliefs, emphasize the importance of safety. Garp’s ideas, in turn, reflect those which the author of Garp wishes to promote.

Garp tried to pass on his fears of the perilous world to his children. Garp wanted a world safe enough for his children to live long, yet despite their location, danger existed. Even after he died an early death, Duncan sought thrills in stupid ways, never looking out for threats. As in Garp’s life, Duncan did not become a mature, responsible adult until his own life was threatened. Roberta fostered this growth after his motorcycle accident when she told him, “I hope you clean up your life. Stop the motorcycles and the mess-and stop the girls who don’t know the first thing about you,” (428). Roberta implored that he stop the “self-destruction shit,” (428). John Irving wrote this novel as an expanded epilogue, warning us about the future, and exposing us to mortality. “If Garp could have been granted one vast and naive wish, it would have been that he could make the world safe. For children and for grownups. The world struck Garp as unnecessarily perilous for both,” (199). Unfortunately, brash ways and careless actions led to the depressing demise of the Garp family and friends. Instant elation prevailed over common sense and thought. Just a few moments to analyze future actions would have prevented a plethora of tragedies.

Bulky, imposing, beautiful, queer, and satanic are just a couple of adjectives used to describe Yan Shpilsky’s big metallic boots. But are they works of art? To answer this baffling question, or to at least formulate my own decision, I turned to the leaders of tomorrow for their valuable insight.

Ambitious young Ukrainian Leonid Morozovsky believes that it might be art because “people created them.” I reminded him that people or machines created the desk in our philosophy room, yet we agree that it is not a work of art. It is merely functional. It was not designed to be art. He then changed his mind and imitated Aristotle’s beliefs, as he stated that the shoes are an angry German’s vision of what a shoe ought to be.

This was a possibility, as Yan bought these shoes to feel the power associated with the genre of music he listens to, namely angry German rock and roll. However, Yan disagreed with Leonid’s ideas. The shoes just look awesome, and are functional because they give him two inches of height and an imposing presence. I asked Yan why he believes the shoes are not art, and he replied that they are not art because they do not convey truth. My next question caught him by surprise.

“If I draw Yan with ballerina shoes on, is it art?” I asked.

“No, it is not, because it does not convey truth, unless it is a metaphor,” he answered.

Yan’s beliefs were interesting, but I moved on to Clive Bell’s philosophy of art. Art has a significant form, which stirs aesthetic emotions. These aesthetic emotions are not the commonly accepted feelings such as love, hate, anger, happiness, and sadness. They are strong emotions, often ecstatic. With this definition of art, Yan’s shoes must be art, based on their encounter with a certain lunch lady at Stuyvesant High School. This woman informed Yan that his shoes were incredible. They were “beautiful,” she said. I would say she was overwhelmed.

Leo Tolstoy presents an intriguing counter to that situation in “What Is Art?” Is art primarily for conveying emotions, as Clive Bell seems to suggest? I would disagree with this idea, as cave paintings were not intended to express emotions. They were designed to tell stories. Tolstoy defines good art as art that is infectious, and Yan’s shoes are by far the most infectious shoes I have ever witnessed. They capture attention like no other.

Although some would argue that intention to create art is an important aspect of art, and others argue that intention to create art results in lower forms of art, I believe that intention is meaningless. Leonardo da Vinci knew when he created art; he produced art for money. Yet his work can be more touching than an accidental splash of paint. On the other side, if a homeless man’s jacket was to fly off his body and become miraculously pinned to a canvas that happened to be nearby at an outdoor art gallery, that would be viewed as one of the greatest pieces ever. At least I know I would view it that way.

I decided that I consider art to be anything that captures an image, sound, or emotion, and can cause a strong reaction in other people. Yan’s shoes capture the brute and industrial nature of the music he listens to, such as Marilyn Manson. Functionality and intention play no part in whether something is art. In my humble opinion, Yan is walking around (he cannot run or jump in them) wearing a piece of art when he should be displaying it. According to Mr. Shpilsky, the shoes cost his mother nearly two hundred dollars, and art like that would be better off preserved.