THE ORIGINAL PROPOSAL
THE FINAL REPORT:
To be frank, what I actually accomplished doesn’t sound much like what I was aiming for. In retrospect I think I never truly considered ‘mixtape’ the ideal medium to express this story, and in attempting to piece my throughlines together I realized the ~4 minute length of an average BBNG song limited my ability to construct and pace the story how I envisioned it. Not that there may never be a musical, non-vocally instrumented version of this project, but at the moment the story feels too raw & sprawling to be condensed that far down.
This is mostly because I am a terrible editor, especially when it comes to my own work, a character failing that doomed my intentions from the start. While prepping to actually put the whole shebang together (i.e., reviewing the boxes of post-it notes I’d amassed), I discovered two things: i), that most of the notes were essentially useless—either [a] one-off moments of genius or [b] incoherent gibberish—and should be burned; & ii), the remainder okay smattering reeked distinctly of my own life, or that of those around me. Not nearly the sweepingly futuristic hip-hopera I’d hoped for; more a pastiche of things I’d experienced, or heard of others experiencing. The whole enterprise felt uncomfortably autobiographical and/or plagiarized, and I began to feel like I was wasting my time trying to construct a self-aggrandizing narrative that no doubt no one would want to hear. I’d tricked myself into dissembling my lifelong fear-of-writer’s-block one 4cm colored square at a time, only to encounter a darkly defeatist lack-of-confidence-wall right behind it. What was the point of it all?
Then (not immediately, but a little later) it hit me: self-aggrandizing narratives are the foundation of rap. The cultural meme (in a Dawkinsian sense, including the genre, the lifestyle, the attitudes, etc.) depends on a strong enough sense of braggadocio in its participants to exist. Like so many rhetorickers before, rappers must needs be assured that their words are created to be heard. Otherwise, the balloon pops before it even achieves liftoff. I don’t like to (humble)brag, but I don’t like to brag. I’m not afraid to speak up, but in general I’d qualify myself as a pretty quiet guy, content to observe rather than blast my thoughts everywhere. In no small part is this character assessment why I was so drawn to writing as a form of introspection/expression. Translating my written words to a more performative genus, however, would be tricky. How to get around myself?
When I worked for Kindergarten Kickstart this summer, my boss (who is also my psychology advisor) asked me, being the team’s premier English major, to do a semiweekly write-up on the program’s blog concerning what we’d been up to in the classrooms, as a way to anecdotally document our experiences, as well as to give parents and interested parties a newbie’s-eye-view on the program. It was an unplanned bonus opportunity I seized gladly. Writing those installments made me realize how perfect the medium was for what I wanted from my other summer writing occupation.
The KK blog reminded me of the Internet's inherent egalitarianism (a term that living in Denmark means one hears a lot about): all sites, under current net neutrality laws, are treated equally. Meaning my story was worth as much as any other. My voice was as loud as any others. On the web, anyone can be a rapper. Accordingly, I have come to terms with and in fact am proud of this story being more or less a pastiche of things that I have either experienced personally or vicariously. After all, what else do I know enough to write about?
It’s not done. I’d say there’s about ⅔ of story that remains yet unwritten, thought it’s all mapped out in a notebook somewhere. Which I’m not super thrilled about. I’m happy about what I’ve accomplished so far, but think it could’ve been more and/or better. However, things—life itself!—kept getting in the way of my focus, and the writing style I have undertaken very much works best when I'm in a groove (having found the muse, as it were). Paradoxically, of course, I rely on those real world events to provide inspiration for my fictitious tales.
Writing in general but specifically this tale has helped me come to terms–create the terms myself, more like–with the things that occur. In my SOC313 class this spring–'Time, Mask, Mirrors: Aging in America'–we read a B. Myerhoff piece qualifying the human tendency to make sense of our lives in a narrative fashion (s/o P.C. Best!). To call this blog a memoir would be a stretch, but there are definitely stretches where it rhymes with mine.
This's also why I'm only a little disappointed in myself for not having finished it fully, because I know that, barring drastic climate change or a Trump presidency, I will keep writing this story. I will keep experiencing things–heck, they might even just happen–and in turn keep writing about them. Working in the bloggish medium means I can update or change the story whenever and as much as I want. They'll stay clearly catalogued and arrayed just the way I want them. Anyone can read them; anyone can comment on them; anyone can share them on Google+ (lol). I've been using as well the Genius web annotation tool to layer meta commentary across the site. I have made for myself a multidimensional storytelling venue, and I plan to use it until Alphabet and all its subsidiaries crumble. Though it's certainly possible I'd've stumbled into this on my own, being supported by and kind of beholden to the OFC pushed me to pick a mode of presentation I could really work with. I had a lot of freedom but also a responsibility to make it good. I leaned into what I knew I could use, and from there tried to stretch the conventional boundaries–of form, narrative, and autobiography.
One big change from my original proposal: it's not about a rapper (yet). But it does deal with the one foundational aspect many rappers share, viz. drug dealing. I drew a lot of inspiration from recent events at Wesleyan to construct this side of the story in hopes to provide a less-heard perspective on the matter.
So, without further ado, here’s what I’ve made over the last ~4 months. I would classify the work as it stands presently as a modern epic cycle. The pieces are mostly narrative poetry, borderline theatrical scenes. There are a few stand-alone poems that serve as a kind of philosophical background to ground the overarching story. I would recommend starting with the DRAMATIS PERSONAE… page to get a sense of what’s going on, because the pieces themselves don’t provide a lot of in-house context. This is intentional, and meant to mimic the way the story came to be: in spurts and starts, and not chronologically.
This is mostly because I am a terrible editor, especially when it comes to my own work, a character failing that doomed my intentions from the start. While prepping to actually put the whole shebang together (i.e., reviewing the boxes of post-it notes I’d amassed), I discovered two things: i), that most of the notes were essentially useless—either [a] one-off moments of genius or [b] incoherent gibberish—and should be burned; & ii), the remainder okay smattering reeked distinctly of my own life, or that of those around me. Not nearly the sweepingly futuristic hip-hopera I’d hoped for; more a pastiche of things I’d experienced, or heard of others experiencing. The whole enterprise felt uncomfortably autobiographical and/or plagiarized, and I began to feel like I was wasting my time trying to construct a self-aggrandizing narrative that no doubt no one would want to hear. I’d tricked myself into dissembling my lifelong fear-of-writer’s-block one 4cm colored square at a time, only to encounter a darkly defeatist lack-of-confidence-wall right behind it. What was the point of it all?
Then (not immediately, but a little later) it hit me: self-aggrandizing narratives are the foundation of rap. The cultural meme (in a Dawkinsian sense, including the genre, the lifestyle, the attitudes, etc.) depends on a strong enough sense of braggadocio in its participants to exist. Like so many rhetorickers before, rappers must needs be assured that their words are created to be heard. Otherwise, the balloon pops before it even achieves liftoff. I don’t like to (humble)brag, but I don’t like to brag. I’m not afraid to speak up, but in general I’d qualify myself as a pretty quiet guy, content to observe rather than blast my thoughts everywhere. In no small part is this character assessment why I was so drawn to writing as a form of introspection/expression. Translating my written words to a more performative genus, however, would be tricky. How to get around myself?
When I worked for Kindergarten Kickstart this summer, my boss (who is also my psychology advisor) asked me, being the team’s premier English major, to do a semiweekly write-up on the program’s blog concerning what we’d been up to in the classrooms, as a way to anecdotally document our experiences, as well as to give parents and interested parties a newbie’s-eye-view on the program. It was an unplanned bonus opportunity I seized gladly. Writing those installments made me realize how perfect the medium was for what I wanted from my other summer writing occupation.
The KK blog reminded me of the Internet's inherent egalitarianism (a term that living in Denmark means one hears a lot about): all sites, under current net neutrality laws, are treated equally. Meaning my story was worth as much as any other. My voice was as loud as any others. On the web, anyone can be a rapper. Accordingly, I have come to terms with and in fact am proud of this story being more or less a pastiche of things that I have either experienced personally or vicariously. After all, what else do I know enough to write about?
It’s not done. I’d say there’s about ⅔ of story that remains yet unwritten, thought it’s all mapped out in a notebook somewhere. Which I’m not super thrilled about. I’m happy about what I’ve accomplished so far, but think it could’ve been more and/or better. However, things—life itself!—kept getting in the way of my focus, and the writing style I have undertaken very much works best when I'm in a groove (having found the muse, as it were). Paradoxically, of course, I rely on those real world events to provide inspiration for my fictitious tales.
Writing in general but specifically this tale has helped me come to terms–create the terms myself, more like–with the things that occur. In my SOC313 class this spring–'Time, Mask, Mirrors: Aging in America'–we read a B. Myerhoff piece qualifying the human tendency to make sense of our lives in a narrative fashion (s/o P.C. Best!). To call this blog a memoir would be a stretch, but there are definitely stretches where it rhymes with mine.
This's also why I'm only a little disappointed in myself for not having finished it fully, because I know that, barring drastic climate change or a Trump presidency, I will keep writing this story. I will keep experiencing things–heck, they might even just happen–and in turn keep writing about them. Working in the bloggish medium means I can update or change the story whenever and as much as I want. They'll stay clearly catalogued and arrayed just the way I want them. Anyone can read them; anyone can comment on them; anyone can share them on Google+ (lol). I've been using as well the Genius web annotation tool to layer meta commentary across the site. I have made for myself a multidimensional storytelling venue, and I plan to use it until Alphabet and all its subsidiaries crumble. Though it's certainly possible I'd've stumbled into this on my own, being supported by and kind of beholden to the OFC pushed me to pick a mode of presentation I could really work with. I had a lot of freedom but also a responsibility to make it good. I leaned into what I knew I could use, and from there tried to stretch the conventional boundaries–of form, narrative, and autobiography.
One big change from my original proposal: it's not about a rapper (yet). But it does deal with the one foundational aspect many rappers share, viz. drug dealing. I drew a lot of inspiration from recent events at Wesleyan to construct this side of the story in hopes to provide a less-heard perspective on the matter.
So, without further ado, here’s what I’ve made over the last ~4 months. I would classify the work as it stands presently as a modern epic cycle. The pieces are mostly narrative poetry, borderline theatrical scenes. There are a few stand-alone poems that serve as a kind of philosophical background to ground the overarching story. I would recommend starting with the DRAMATIS PERSONAE… page to get a sense of what’s going on, because the pieces themselves don’t provide a lot of in-house context. This is intentional, and meant to mimic the way the story came to be: in spurts and starts, and not chronologically.
I did, however, make an ordinated list, for those of you keeping track at home, of what I've got so far, as well as one for the stand-alone pieces. As I said, it's not done, and that includes some of the posts listed (those asterisked). But soon, I promise.
Huge thanks to the English department & the OFC in particular for this incredible opportunity. I hope y'all enjoy what I have so far. Please leave any comments wherever you can find space.
Huge thanks to the English department & the OFC in particular for this incredible opportunity. I hope y'all enjoy what I have so far. Please leave any comments wherever you can find space.
Updated budget: $1270 for housing (incl. internet & heating); $1110 for food; $120 for misc.
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