Without ideas, writing does not exist.

"Writing is easy. You only need to stare at a piece of paper until your forehead bleeds." – Douglass Adams

Although though the act of writing itself may be easy, ideas conjured in order to produce said writing are not so easy to come by. Writing is not easy. I can attest to this and I’m sure Professor Jackson can as well given the essay (or non-essay) I submitted to him as a “first draft” the Wednesday before spring break. The paper was supposed to be a photo essay on Central Park, and I stared at my photo of choice on both Monday and Tuesday nights, not on a piece of paper, but sitting next to a blank word document on my screen saver until I felt the urge, not to make my forehead bleed, but throw a perfectly good piece of halibut out the window. Nevertheless, while my abilities were there, my ideas were not and despite the fact that I have been published, I have been published from writing about ideas (or subjects) that were given to me, not conjured up. Without ideas, writing does not exist.

- Josie Raccuia

Self Love

Self love is not so vile a sin as self neglect

Now that I say that I agree that self-love is not so vile a sin as self-neglect, I wonder if I was wrong. I think that a man who is in love with himself has more power, because he believes in himself. He can make himself appear invincible. A man who neglects himself is only hurting himself. He is just a selfish man who keeps his selfishness to himself. The self-loving man is also selfish. However, this selfishness can manifest itself in much more harmful ways. It can make him believe in his own power. It can make him want to be powerful over other men. It can make him become a tyrant.

-Courtney Campion

When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended solely for self flagellation

We had the choice of two quotes so I went with the longer one. When I have the opportunity to take up more space, why not take advantage of it? This may be considered lazy but it's not. It's smart. In order to get an A I have to write an entire page and choosing a longer prompt helps me in doing that. It's not like I was going to attempt to discuss what it's about anyway. This is a free-write so I'm just writing whatever comes into my head. Discussing the prompt means taking time to think about it. So, I wouldn't be writing freely, I'd be writing with thinking. I don't know what that means, I couldn't think of a word that ends in a 'y' that means thinking. Anyway, I was so pissed I had to wake up for an 8 AM this morning. I was considering skipping again but I missed last week so I thought it'd be good to show up. I am paying about 7 grand for that class, so I might as well put the money to good use. We can buy a car with that money or pay a couple month's rent, but instead I'll pay for a math recitation.

Brandon J

War is God

What type of home training did he have? What are his values? How dare he start class off with "War is God." Why? I need an explanation. Maybe, that's the reason he has so many tattoos. Maybe, he wasn't taught that God represents love. I wonder if he burns crosses on his spare time. "Come back into the light, Raynell. Don't wast your energy trying to figure this one out." Truth be told, he is not unique in his thinking. Unabombers probably chant "War is God!" I'd dare say that's probably why they believe they are doing God's work--oh, excuse me; not God--Allah's will (Insha' Allah). I have to shake my head. Anyway, this Professor Jackson or Mitchell, whichever is supposed to be his first name, actually gave me a page filler. By the way, who names their child two last names? Another piece to this puzzle. This tattooed, profane, mouthy, village-styled, brainiac, asked us to write.

Raynell P.
3/2/11

mODEz

The old blind bastard's trying to sing to you, listen as the Isley Brother’s say, to the music. You must learn to do that before you can expect to understand. Slowly, slowly, a few licks at a time.
--John Edger Wideman

Reality is a blinding blaze of incandescent light – bright and efficient. She’s a butch type dike of a bitch. She gnaws perception and feeds you bit by bit of her truth, past satiation and pleasure, past the "itis" until you complete her circle of charity on the throne, the porcelain one, with a moan and a grunt. Reality is your best friend, though that two timing broad has ran away with your wife.
--Ron-el Greaves

War is God

War is God or rather God is war. War of the soul's damnation vs. the pleasure of the flesh. War of the mind's righteous, do it right, it'll work, just…like…that vs. impulse and spontaneity. War is God or rather God is war. Man vs. Man vs. Woman vs. future bearings.

War is God -- what love won't chase let hate pursue. From the fake-working but raking in six figures to the back-breaking, hourly pay, you can count on six fingers -- to the trigger of the barrel of a gun to the woman jumping from hung to who's more hung to the next CEO rising from the slums to the last CEO who is today's plain old bum.

War is God, no, God is WAR -- children feasting on the bones of children in their hood, no meat left on their carcass -- abuse, malnutrition and a twisted system took their share first. God is where silence dwells; where knees meet concrete and no final remittance of a guilty life is waged. War, the purgatory of closing eyes, blind to decency.


War is God, no God is War.

-Ron-el Greaves