Info on rearing luna moths: Actias Luna variety.
On August 8th of 1933, author F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote the following letter of advice to his 11-year-old daughter, "Scottie," who was away at camp.
(Source: F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Life in Letters ; Image: Fitzgerald with both his daughter, "Scottie," and wife, Zelda, via.)
(Source: F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Life in Letters ; Image: Fitzgerald with both his daughter, "Scottie," and wife, Zelda, via.)
La Paix, Rodgers' Forge
Towson, Maryland
August 8, 1933
Dear Pie:
I feel very strongly about you doing duty. Would you give me a little more documentation about your reading in French? I am glad you are happy — but I never believe much in happiness. I never believe in misery either. Those are things you see on the stage or the screen or the printed pages, they never really happen to you in life.
All I believe in in life is the rewards for virtue (according to your talents) and the punishments for not fulfilling your duties, which are doubly costly. If there is such a volume in the camp library, will you ask Mrs. Tyson to let you look up a sonnet of Shakespeare's in which the line occurs "Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
Have had no thoughts today, life seems composed of getting up aSaturday Evening Post story. I think of you, and always pleasantly; but if you call me "Pappy" again I am going to take the White Cat out and beat his bottom hard, six times for every time you are impertinent. Do you react to that?
I will arrange the camp bill.
Halfwit, I will conclude.
Things to worry about:
Worry about courage
Worry about Cleanliness
Worry about efficiency
Worry about horsemanship
Worry about. . .
Things not to worry about:
Don't worry about popular opinion
Don't worry about dolls
Don't worry about the past
Don't worry about the future
Don't worry about growing up
Don't worry about anybody getting ahead of you
Don't worry about triumph
Don't worry about failure unless it comes through your own fault
Don't worry about mosquitoes
Don't worry about flies
Don't worry about insects in general
Don't worry about parents
Don't worry about boys
Don't worry about disappointments
Don't worry about pleasures
Don't worry about satisfactions
Things to think about:
What am I really aiming at?
How good am I really in comparison to my contemporaries in regard to:
(a) Scholarship
(b) Do I really understand about people and am I able to get along with them?
(c) Am I trying to make my body a useful instrument or am I neglecting it?
With dearest love,
Daddy
P.S. My come-back to your calling me Pappy is christening you by the word Egg, which implies that you belong to a very rudimentary state of life and that I could break you up and crack you open at my will and I think it would be a word that would hang on if I ever told it to your contemporaries. "Egg Fitzgerald." How would you like that to go through life with — "Eggie Fitzgerald" or "Bad Egg Fitzgerald" or any form that might occur to fertile minds? Try it once more and I swear to God I will hang it on you and it will be up to you to shake it off. Why borrow trouble?
Love anyhow.
Interior: central, autogenous, domestic, endogenous, gut, home, inner, internal, intimate, visceral, private, remote, secret, within.
autogenous; medical term, physiology: arising from within, self-generating.
endogenous; medical term, pathology: arising from within the body.
Femininity=the opposite. The oppositional.
autogenous; medical term, physiology: arising from within, self-generating.
endogenous; medical term, pathology: arising from within the body.
Femininity=the opposite. The oppositional.
Getting my reading going for papers due soon and beginning with a reference to Flaubert culled from Barthes, Death of the Author, then taken through wikipedia:
"In Bouvard et Pécuchet, Gustave Flaubert made fun of 18th and 19th century attempts to catalogue, classify, list, and record all of scientific and historical knowledge. In October 1872, he wrote, the novel is "a kind of encyclopedia made into a farce... I am planning a thing in which I give vent to my anger... I shall vomit over my contemporaries the disgust they inspire in me... It will be big and violent."
I wonder about the need to vomit on contemporaries, is that like wanting to strangle other drivers on the road because they don't do what you think they should do; similar to road rage? Surely, I spend too much time driving. This goes back to wanting to burn cars. I can't help but believe that cars are the embodiment of our self-destructive impulses. And here I am, a pizza delivery person.
Is it a bad thing that I don't understand the desire to "vomit on a contemporary"?
Maybe it's due to the fact that I don't consider myself a contemporary of anyone. Maybe because I spend most of my time in the public delivering pizzas for a major chain restaurant. ?Contemporary Art? !
I suppose I just haven't yet experienced milieu related to my "dream job"= artist/art teacher (that can pay the bills comfortably, with a retirement fund and health insurance).
Let's give it that old loner heave-ho, let's go (self;work ethic;aloofness) and try harder. All artists are lonely to some degree. At least, I'm lonely, I wish I felt more comfortable around people, and for longer periods of time.
Perhaps, I will just try to consider them contemporaries, cause art isn't supposed to pay the bills! Then, I can become so settled as to wish to vomit on them.
I can push past believing that I must sell myself to be included. I don't want to be left out, but socializing is scary due to the inevitable misinterpretations. An island, but I don't believe that we are all just islands on trade routes, brought together to consume. I refuse, preferring to imagine the stretching of time out until all distant yet actual connections become so tangled and overlapped as to be always touching and able to be recalled clearly.
Dear Flaubert and wikipedia,
Can you explain what you mean,
and why you chose this quote;
because
I'd rather puke on myself any day,
but it might not get me the attention I want.
Consumption is necessary for survival,
which always comes first.
I like eating.
Maybe I want to eat my contemporaries
rather than puke on them!
Sometimes, everything is not OK,
but's that's OK.
I found you and was interested enough
to write this. Over and out.
To a link to Barthes From Work to Text, to be referenced.
 |
| You must write to find your Voice, 2010, in Poas, Costa Rica. |
I wonder about the need to vomit on contemporaries, is that like wanting to strangle other drivers on the road because they don't do what you think they should do; similar to road rage? Surely, I spend too much time driving. This goes back to wanting to burn cars. I can't help but believe that cars are the embodiment of our self-destructive impulses. And here I am, a pizza delivery person.
Is it a bad thing that I don't understand the desire to "vomit on a contemporary"?
Maybe it's due to the fact that I don't consider myself a contemporary of anyone. Maybe because I spend most of my time in the public delivering pizzas for a major chain restaurant. ?Contemporary Art? !
I suppose I just haven't yet experienced milieu related to my "dream job"= artist/art teacher (that can pay the bills comfortably, with a retirement fund and health insurance).
Let's give it that old loner heave-ho, let's go (self;work ethic;aloofness) and try harder. All artists are lonely to some degree. At least, I'm lonely, I wish I felt more comfortable around people, and for longer periods of time.
Perhaps, I will just try to consider them contemporaries, cause art isn't supposed to pay the bills! Then, I can become so settled as to wish to vomit on them.
I can push past believing that I must sell myself to be included. I don't want to be left out, but socializing is scary due to the inevitable misinterpretations. An island, but I don't believe that we are all just islands on trade routes, brought together to consume. I refuse, preferring to imagine the stretching of time out until all distant yet actual connections become so tangled and overlapped as to be always touching and able to be recalled clearly.
Dear Flaubert and wikipedia,
Can you explain what you mean,
and why you chose this quote;
because
I'd rather puke on myself any day,
but it might not get me the attention I want.
Consumption is necessary for survival,
which always comes first.
I like eating.
Maybe I want to eat my contemporaries
rather than puke on them!
Sometimes, everything is not OK,
but's that's OK.
I found you and was interested enough
to write this. Over and out.
To a link to Barthes From Work to Text, to be referenced.
Object oriented ontology forthcoming.
And an article on subjectness;
reasking the question of the gendered subject.
Punctum Press; Brooklyn
And an article on subjectness;
reasking the question of the gendered subject.
Punctum Press; Brooklyn
 |
| Screenshot: a mini-animation on my desktop for the Billboard Art Project. I submitted a 59 image animation... it's 59 screen-shots from a 3 and 1/2 min. video I made during my summer session at MICA (I'm a graduate student, yay!). The image is stretched to a 2:7 ratio to fit the specifications of the billboard provided. The stretching serves nicely to pull in references to landscape and the sublime technological. The doubling of the original image references the feminine (both with shape and subject) . Which brings us back to the (super) natural and the sublime. Or should I say the indeterminate? Uncertain times. |
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