Death and Gatsby and Writing
Aug. 21st, 2004 10:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaI feel jaded.
Too much death, still. I feel guilty because I'm not connected to any of them. I'm not grieving. I'm just pitying the people who are.
Damnit, I can't stand it how I won't write my story. I NEED TO WRITE IT. Yet I don't. It's like some other situations I know.
I don't know that everybody that reads and analyzes The Great Gatsby gets it. Okay, so maybe it is ironic about the whole '20s/excessiveness/lavishness thing . . . but there could be the story without the class boundary. WIthout the richness and the noveau-richeness and the landed wealth and the blue and white lights and the colored lights. It could be . . . there's just that separation. It doesn't have to be class. In F. Scott Fitzgerald's case, it was, because that was what he was surrounded by. Also, that's what made such a great atmosphere. Also, it was easy for the average mind to pick up on. Sometimes, the boundaries are much less tangible.
I think I just made a very blatant statement that will have literary types much more obsessed with Gatsby than I am jumping down my throat. Yet I have grounding proof for what I'm talking about.
Then again, who knows if I even know what I am really talking about.
I heard "Puttin' on the Ritz" on the radio.
I am living vicariously through Harry Potter. It's sucking away even my own story. I don't want school to start, and yet I want it, because I want it to be the change.
I still don't know what the hell I am doing the first two periods of every day.
I want to write my book. I want to finish my book. I want to publish my book.
Too much death, still. I feel guilty because I'm not connected to any of them. I'm not grieving. I'm just pitying the people who are.
Damnit, I can't stand it how I won't write my story. I NEED TO WRITE IT. Yet I don't. It's like some other situations I know.
I don't know that everybody that reads and analyzes The Great Gatsby gets it. Okay, so maybe it is ironic about the whole '20s/excessiveness/lavishness thing . . . but there could be the story without the class boundary. WIthout the richness and the noveau-richeness and the landed wealth and the blue and white lights and the colored lights. It could be . . . there's just that separation. It doesn't have to be class. In F. Scott Fitzgerald's case, it was, because that was what he was surrounded by. Also, that's what made such a great atmosphere. Also, it was easy for the average mind to pick up on. Sometimes, the boundaries are much less tangible.
I think I just made a very blatant statement that will have literary types much more obsessed with Gatsby than I am jumping down my throat. Yet I have grounding proof for what I'm talking about.
Then again, who knows if I even know what I am really talking about.
I heard "Puttin' on the Ritz" on the radio.
I am living vicariously through Harry Potter. It's sucking away even my own story. I don't want school to start, and yet I want it, because I want it to be the change.
I still don't know what the hell I am doing the first two periods of every day.
I want to write my book. I want to finish my book. I want to publish my book.
