“Where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?”— Sigmund Freud
I don’t know, Dr Freud; I am into retrospection.
Today was the last day of scheduled classes at Lehman. [Teach me how to whistle like that.] And there’s no better timing that to dust off our blog posts here — the ones authored by me, I mean. (Oh how I assume authority of works! Sorry Roland Barthes. Remember Authorial Animals?)
So far I’ve “authored” 9 — oh wait, 10, that is if you count this one — blog posts and each holds a little story as to how I came about it:
You And Blue: My eldest son (— wisest? I am not sure). I was so on-toes about it. Probably the only time I managed to let Pinterest inspire my writing — the board titled Blue Velvet, of course. Also, it was (it had to be) clearly the beginning of the semester — I liked/tolerated the commute enough to let the blueness of the Hudson River be my guide. And strangely, I started to pick up blue (not to be confused with “the blues”) everywhere I happened to be. It was all about Me and Blue and You, hence ‘You And Blue.’
This Somewhere: I had put out a blog, on a Hollywood movie. And as much as I was tempted to put into limelight a Bollywood movie, I thought it was important I watch a randomly chosen independent non-English, non-Hindi movie. Chilean Spanish. (He Hated Pigeons!) And woah! — I was still suffering from the fever I had from my first post, that of finding everything blue. And hey, the W. H. Auden poem paints the bluest blue, without ever dying as a cliché for lost love.
“It’s A Crime” : Cherry Wine: Hozier, Hozier, Hozier. I had been listening to his stuff even more around the week. I was talking Hozier, Hozier, Hozier everywhere, and strangely there are those who had never even heard of him or cared to lend an ear to his words. His words. Right then, I knew I wanted to offer in writing what a genius this man is! And I chose to promote him, his Cherry Wine, and his good cause of #FaceUpToDomesticViolence. Again Hozier, Hozier, Hozier.
Lights, Leaves, Lootera: Bollywood. Fall. Finally. All the colors … it was not just blue and cherry-ish, it was all colors changing and bursting. To all those who haven’t watched Lootera, what?! Poetry on celluloid. I remember I had wanted to write about it sometime. I didn’t want to deprive you all of good ol’ Bollywood.
My Dear Gatsby: The election results were here, and I just wanted to escape it all. I was tempted to write all good Gatsby, the broken-hearted hero. As much as I worship this book, I couldn’t escape the feeling that all too long Daisy had been quiet and needed to take the mic, well the pen. Nick Carraway would not have been happy, but then hey, who cares — the world was not happy either. (It was going to “the blues” I didn’t want to encounter but I had zero choice. Ugh.)
Not Faking It, No More: Not to say that this was anything in parallel with “says it like it is,” for this one time somebody had to be honest about stuff without manipulating others or even self-contradicting here. I read this amazing nytimes.com article in my Intro To Literary Study class and I wanted to point that out, that how even when not lying we are choosing to “appropriate” our language, “fake” our literacy, and how it’s all pressuring simultaneously.
A Thanksgiving Gift For Us: Is there a better gift you could have received on any social platform than a recommendation to go watch The Scent of Green Papaya? No, exactly. Except maybe if I sent you tickets to watch in the theater but then you’d have missed some awesome (in other words, worth-a-story) family time. Look, and I didn’t want that. Do I hear a ‘thank you’? You’re welcome.
Hallo-winner!: I had to announce the winner of our Halloween competition. And it only made sense to befriend the winner, right? And I did. I annoy almost every time I see Deirdre Fanzo. I still have to come up with a nickname for this woman with ‘The Devil’s Darning Needle.’
Authorial Animals: At this point I was aware that I was approaching the end. And I had watched Nocturnal Animals earlier on, and it was still fresh in mind. How could it not? I mean this one was a Jake Gyllenhaal psycho-thriller. I needed to gyllenhaalize. And before I drive this keyboard nuts with writing my love letter and then immediately erasing it, I just wanted to remind you: GO WATCH NOCTURNAL ANIMALS. Don’t prepare yourself any more than it’s a Jake Gyllenhaal movie, and see if you love or super-love the movie. And then read the article by my most favorite theorist (so far) Roland Barthes and why he professes that you kill the author. Or you could just read the following (again, I hope):
Retrospection is done.
Do you have a better answer for Dr Freud’s question? Think about it and follow where that thought goes when forgotten. Or that is too much to ask for, just spend a bit of your time on retrospection.
Happy end-(yes)-of-the-semester, lovelies!
~ Hardik Yadav