1. Last week, Erin linked to an editorial from the Chicago Tribune that lamented the woes of urban snow. Unlike our rural counterparts who have minimal disturbance to mar the beauty of their snow, all of the traffic in a city, both of the vehicular and foot variety, makes snow ugly. In this article, the writer said, “Urban snow is what we have here, now. It is snow where it does not belong, where it is dangerous, incongruous and despised, like an urban coyote or an urban cowboy. No one ever wrote “‘Stopping by ‘L’ Platform on a Snowy Evening.'”
Stopping by ‘L’ Platform on a Snowy Evening
with the poet’s sincerest apologies to Robert Frost and those with a penchant for perfect iambic tetrameter
Whose platform this is I think I know.
Their office is in the West Loop though;
They will not see me freezing here
To watch the platform fill up with snow.
My soggy boots must think it queer
To stop without a railcar near
Between the ‘burbs and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
My body gives itself a shake
A shiver – is there some mistake?
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of biting wind and icy flake.
The platform’s dirty, dark and long.
But the weather makes me strong,
And I don’t mind it – is that wrong?
And I don’t mind it – is that wrong?
Admittedly not my best work, particularly on the rhythm front. In college I’d do this sort of thing all the time for reaction assignments to readings in my English classes. I really enjoy taking other people’s work and
completely ruining it using their established form to create something of my own. My all time favorite was my interpretation of the opening of T.S. Eliot’s “The Wasteland,” in which I declared February to to be the cruelest month: a belief I still hold to be true.
2. For possibly the first time in my life, I’m thrilled that we’re springing ahead on Saturday night/Sunday morning. My room has been getting so bright so early lately that I have a tendency to wake up before my alarm, which is not ideal (of course, I could easily solve this problem by, you know, closing my curtains at night instead of just my blinds, but I am tragically lazy. Thus, the curtains stay open most nights). I’m also sad that I miss the sunrise, which I really enjoyed watching from my living room throughout the winter. Most importantly, though, springing ahead means one extra hour before sunset, which means I can FINALLY run during the week for the first time since October! Woohoo!
3. As it turns out, I’m an idiot (this should surprise no one). Either that or the Shamrock Shuffle changed their minds about the cutoff for corral submission times. The deadline is actually March 11, not March 1, which means I could still get into Corral C. I’m now faced with a conundrum. I am, on paper, fast enough to be in Corral C. I am not, in reality, fast enough to be in Corral C. Though I have apparently developed speed out of absolutely nowhere, I know that #1: it will probably not be as cold on April 7 as it was on March 3, which will slow me down and #2: 4.97 miles is significantly farther than 3.1, and I truly don’t think I could have maintained my 5K pace for even .1 miles more, let alone 1.87 miles more. I’m well aware of the fact that I belong in Corral D…but since I’m fast enough to get into Corral C, part of me wants to be in Corral C just because I can. Ah, the troubles of my life.
Have you used the art or work of others as inspiration for your own? That was pretty much the only kind of response I did for American Lit II, and it was awesome. So much better than writing academic responses 3x/week.
Do you prefer springing ahead or falling back? I think we can all agree that that extra hour of sleep is nice, but I’m not sure if it’s worth months of 4 p.m. sunsets.