I'm reading Nothing Like the Sun, for my Race in Shakespeare class. It's supposed to be about Shakespeare's lovelife (by Anthony Burgess, the same guy who wrote A Clockwork Orange
) and its influence on the sonnets he wrote which center around his (romantic?) relationships with a "fair youth" and a "dark lady". I'm not feeling it. I don't know where this guy got his info-from letters written by Shakespeare? So I don't know whether to take it as just historical fiction, or something a bit more academic.
It was good to rest today. After I woke up, I watched - un-bespectalced - the light dance of the roof of the gothic building in front of me as the sun was setting.
Here is said sonnet (one of many I read). I got to read it in class Tuesday
My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lip's red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun,
If hair be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
In some perfumes there is more delight
Than the breath with which my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
Music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

It was good to rest today. After I woke up, I watched - un-bespectalced - the light dance of the roof of the gothic building in front of me as the sun was setting.
Here is said sonnet (one of many I read). I got to read it in class Tuesday

My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lip's red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun,
If hair be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
In some perfumes there is more delight
Than the breath with which my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
Music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
some of his plays are excellent
but
the poems are mostly short gusts of unstable emotion
with always the same feeling
boring
anyway
ill work my shit out
its gotta get done
so ill do it
one way or another
one way
or another
im gonna find ya
im gonna
get ya
gityagityagitya
fantasm is going to be here in atlanta from march 17th-20th. it's a convention of debauchary...and this is the last year they're doing it.
http://www.fantasm.org/