Lulu Fisher
30 September 2011 @ 06:34 pm
William Wordsworth’s lyrical ballad “We Are Seven” addresses the notion of death—more specifically, as seen in the opening stanza, the way in which children, simple and attuned to the feelings of being alive, perceive death. The remainder of the poem, as characteristic of ballads, takes the form of a narrative. The narrator, after posing the initial question, relates his encounter with an eight-year-old girl. Though he only asks to know how many children there are in her family, her answer is so perplexing they engage in philosophical discourse that is deceptively simple and childish.

the rest of 'To Be Is Being' )
Lulu Fisher
17 August 2011 @ 12:54 pm
Nicotine Fantasies
Chapter 1: Jacob

won't you help me sing )
Lulu Fisher
A couple years ago, I took a bullshit theatre course to get some 'writing intensive' credits out of the way. Turns out, I didn't even need any more WIs. And while the course itself was truly bullshit, the lab sessions were pretty fun and fulfilling. I even got to write a 5-minute, 3-character play as a final project. Since I'm taking a break from writing fan fiction because, really, my brain is fan fiction-fried, I figure I may as well dig out and dust off the script and get to what I meant to do years ago: convert it into a short story.

I'd started tinkering last summer but hit some roadblocks a few chapters in, and it's been untouched ever since. Maybe this not-so-new self-assigned assignment will make my muse stop acting like such a fan fic-inclined zombie.

'Nicotine Fantasies' script )
Lulu Fisher
So, it took watching 71: Into the Fire a third time for me to actually collect my thoughts and manage to organize a coherent and un-biased response. (The first time, I was too busy crying through most of it and even more well after the closing credits; the second time, I was crying even before the sad parts came up because I knew when they were.) I still cried like a baby the third time. Just saying.

2k words: into the spoilers )
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Lulu Fisher
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Current Music: Mumford & Sons - Thistle & Weeds
Current Location: Glazers
Lulu Fisher
04 May 2011 @ 06:39 pm
Dear K______,

In three of the modern variations of Little Red Riding Hood—James Thurber’s “The Little Girl and the Wolf,” Roald Dahl’s “Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf,” and the film Freeway starring Reese Witherspoon—the female protagonist is armed with a gun which she eventually uses to kill the wolf/attacker.  The fact that all three protagonists are prepared for the encounter serves as proof of Thurber’s moral: that little girls are no longer easy to fool.  These versions of the Little Red tale, then, indicate how folklore adapts to and reflects the time in which it is produced.  None of the three stories has retained the didactic or precautionary lesson found in older variations that warn young girls to remain on the path lest they be “eaten” by “wolves.”  The implication, of course, is that modern young women are already aware of the potential threat posed by men and have therefore fittingly ensured their own safety by carrying firearms on their person.
Thurber’s Little Girl, Dahl’s Little Red, and Vanessa in Freeway represent more than the clever and well-informed girl.  By protecting themselves, they become their own heroes (or rather heroines), making woodcutters and police officers obsolete saviors or “good” male figures.  Furthermore, the gun is undeniably a phallic symbol--Dahl’s Little Red goes so far as to draw the gun from her underwear.  Marked by their confidence, assertiveness, and trigger fingers, these three girls prevail against the male threat by taking on masculine characteristics.  What’s more, in all three adaptations, the girl protagonist shoots and kills the wolf/man while he is disguised as her grandmother.  (In fact, Vanessa shoots her “wolf” on two separate occasions.)  Thus, on the one hand the young women in these stories succeed as a result of their masculine behavior and weaponry, while on the other the male sexual aggressors are thwarted and ultimately killed dressed in women’s clothing, that is, emasculated.
Though the stories indeed empower young women, the message of gender is a muddled one: women win if they are masculine, but men lose if they are feminine.  This message is especially insidious, considering Dahl’s story was written for children.  Nevertheless, all three adaptations manage to approach the issues of sexual violence and female obedience that make older versions intimidating with a fair amount of humor, albeit of the dark sort.

So long, and thanks for all the fish,
Lulu Fisher
Lulu Fisher
So aside from that one entry, I missed most of national poetry writing month.  But two days late won't hurt.
Our call to arms: the newly risen moon,
Her howl of provocation unrestrained.
We heed, haphazard: armor shed and strewn
along, familiar territory gained
with practiced hands, in earnest contours mapped,
two heartbeats shared like sonic booms resound
across the linen war zone, spirits rapt
with bliss inflicted, minds sensation-drowned.
But even we to sated dreams relent;
thus, white flag raised, we yield to deeper night.
With dawn's approach, She makes Her slow descent
until next She in mortals' blood ignite
the roiling taste for skin; with fresh desire
we'll charge once more and welcome friendly fire.
--English sonnet, October 2010
And here are two versions of the same-ish poem, written at very different times.
What the Moon Saw
Last night the moon seemed to say something
As across the water we watched the city burn
Distant flames licked our sea-chilled heels
And our breath was as salty as the wind
Blood rushed louder than the surf
Sweeping us in its rolling embrace
Calling us to depths starry as the sky
Neither and both sinking and floating
Earthbound bodies learned gravity's dance
In the gauzy fingers of celestial light
Feeling only sand and skin
And a pulse shared by two
What the moon said we both failed to hear
--free verse, September 2009
What the Moon Saw (Revisited)
Last night, the moon seemed to say something
as across the water we watched the city burn.
Nicotine exhalations replaced the meaningful words
I'd promised myself to say.
Across the water the city burned,
its flames silenced by my roaring thoughts.
I'd promised you once
that being alone doesn't mean being lonely.
But the silent flames and my roaring thoughts
drown in the star-strewn waves,
hissing of loneliness without being alone.
Like the moon is pulled to the earth--
isolated in the star-strewn skies--
a victim of uncontrollable gravity,
my body, waning, is pulled to yours
with no hope of ever reaching.
So I, the willing victim to gravity,
replace meaningful words with nicotine sighs,
giving up hope of ever finding courage:
Last night, neither the moon nor I could say,
"Hold me closer."
--pantoum, November 2010
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Current Music: Ludwig van - Sonate 15