Hicok Reading A Hit

   Bob Hicok didn't start writing poetry until after a break-up at the age of twenty: a thank you to the girl who first broke his heart.

   Hicok is originally from Michigan, which is evident in much of his poetry, but now resides in Blackburn, Virginia, as an associate professor of English at Virginia Tech. He has only recently left the workforce(automotive die designer, computer systems) to become a full time writer and professor. 

    He has published five compilations of his work since 1995: The Legend of the Light, Plus Shipping, Animal Soul, Insomnia Diary and most recently, Clumsy Living. His books have received numerous awards, including ALA Booklist Notable Book of the Year (The Legend of the Light, 1995). He has been published in many well-known publications, including The New Yorker and The Best American Poetry.

     Hicok read his first poem, took a drink of water and announced, "I hate poetry readings." Hate them he may; the audience felt otherwise. When Hicok spoke, silence descended upon the room, interrupted only by titters during light moments in his pieces. 

    He read a total of twelve pieces, ranging from motifs of cancer to physics. The magic of his writing came through in his sprinkling of humor despite depressing topics. "BRCA1" delved in cancer and the option of testing for the gene that carries breast cancer. His friend, the inspiration for the poem, deemed the test "the best thing since the wet kiss." That line, along with Hicok's "hooray, but ouch," drew smiles around the room.

    There's something about Bob; he is nervous and confident all at once. During the space between poems, he seemed small, jittery almost, telling little jokes, poking fun at himself, admitting to "long columns of self-indulgence." But, when it came time to read again, when enough room for reflection had come and gone, Hicok became very focused, intent upon conveying his message in a crystal clear, never-wavering voice.

   Each of his poems was a story, laced with spell-binding drugs. Or maybe it was Hicok who was spell-binding. We'll never know for sure, the two are so closely intertwined that to separate them would destroy all traces of beauty; a thank you to the girl who first broke his heart. 

Springsteen Performance a Let Down

        The Boss is in charge no more. Bruce Springsteen's Super Bowl performance last Sunday was painful. In a mere twelve minutes, Springsteen proved that he is past his prime. He is one of America's greats, with hits like "Born to Run" and "Thunder Road," but the half time show performance of the forty-third Super Bowl, which included the E Street Band, was not up to standards.

         Ever since the 2004 Super Bowl half time show, which featured Janet Jackson, Justin Timberlake and tear away clothing, any room for error, and on occasion, entertainment, has been eliminated. Since the wardrobe malfunction incident, new producers have taken over the show and have consistently opted for old men. Paul McCartney, the Rolling Stones, Prince, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and now this. Not that there is anything wrong with old men, but not all younger people want to be exposed themselves on television. 
         The New York Times ran a piece about The Boss on Sunday, sighting him as a musician who still relates to the people, who can still put on a good show. Springsteen proved them wrong. The performance had a twelve minute cap, but his voice couldn't stay strong that long. He sounds tired, haggard even. He couldn't hit the high notes, and you have to wonder if Steve Van Zandt is there to cover up Springsteen's failing voice. If his fading vocals weren't enough to damper the performance, the show included a "referee" who came on stage and signaled penalties during part of the performance. Really, Bruce?
          Springsteen and the E Street Band opened with "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out." The second song was the Bruce class "Born to Run." In this song, the usually long, drawn out "Run" at the end of a verse fades quickly, nowhere near his typical enthusiasm. They moved onto "Working on a Dream," or as Springsteen sings, "Working on a Dre." The end of the short word is lost; his voice is gone.  The half time performance closed with an infamous song, "Glory Days." The song was hindered by Springsteen and Van Zandt's unnecessary and unwanted banter.
"Steve, what time is it?"
"It's Boss time."
          When performers have to validate themselves, something is seriously wrong. They also chat about running over the allotted time, which they dismiss, as they clearly think their talent supersedes the time limit. Their conversation also includes quite a few corny jokes with football references: "We're going to be going over time. . . Man, it's going to be penalty time." One of Springsteen's comments at the opening of the show was on the same level of lameness. He tells viewers to "step away from the guacamole dip." Inspiration at its best.
            The Boss is an American great, he has put on many a good show, but Sunday night was not one of them. Bruce Springsteen should've followed the advice of his own lyrics in "Born to Run":   "We gotta get out while we're young."

Brucey Boy Outline

For the most part, I kept the same order for my revised review. 

Intro(BUT)

Past half time shows, recent changes

Voice issues-failure

Lineup of songs

More failure

Take your own advice: "We gotta get out while we're young."

Bruce Springsteen Half Time A Failure

   The Boss is in charge no more. Bruce Springsteen's Super Bowl performance last Sunday was painful. In a mere twelve minutes, Springsteen proved that he is past his prime. He is one of America's greats, with hits like "Born to Run" and "Thunder Road," but the half time show performance of the forty-third Super Bowl, which included the E Street Band, was not up to standards. 

   The New York Times ran a piece about The Boss on Sunday, sighting him as a musician who still relates to the people, who can still put on a good show. Springsteen proved them wrong. The performance had a twelve minute cap, but his voice couldn't stay strong that long. He sounds tired, haggard even. He couldn't hit the high notes, and you have to wonder if Steve Van Zandt is there to cover up Springsteen's failing voice. If his fading vocals weren't enough to damper the performance, the show included a "referee" who came on stage and signaled penalties during part of the performance. Really, Bruce?

   Springsteen and the E Street Band opened with "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out." The second song was the Bruce class "Born to Run." In this song, the usually long, drawn out "Run" at the end of a verse fades quickly, nowhere near his typical enthusiasm. They moved onto "Working on a Dream," or as Springsteen sings, "Working on a Dre." The half time performance closed with an infamous song, "Glory Days." The lyrics were altered to better suit the occasion, the baseball player in the song becomes a football player, which was a nice touch. But, the song was hindered by Springsteen and Van Zandt's unnecessary and unwanted banter. 

"Steve, what time is it?"

"It's Boss time."

    When performers have to validate themselves, something is seriously wrong. They also chat about running over the allotted time, which they dismiss, as they clearly think their talent supersedes the time limit. Their conversation also includes quite a few corny jokes with football references: "We're going to be going over time. . . Man, it's going to be penalty time."

One of Springsteen's comments at the opening of the show was on the same level of lameness. He tells viewers to "step away from the guacamole dip." Inspiration at its best.

    The Boss is an American great, he has put on many a good show, but Sunday night was not one of them. Bruce Springsteen shouldn't followed the advice of his own lyrics in "Born to Run:"

 "We gotta get out while we're young."

Wilde's "The Critic as Artist"

"Each little thing we do passes into the great machine of life, which may grind our virtues into powder and make them worthless, or transform our sins into elements of a new civilisation, more marvellous and more splendid than any that has gone before." 

(I love this.)

The excerpt from Oscar Wilde's "The Critic as Artist" is written around the idea of criticism as an art, the highest form of art. 

Ernest: For, after all, even you must admit that it is much more difficult to do a thing than to talk about it.

Gilbert: More difficult to do a thing than to talk about it? Not at all.

I had never thought about doing versus reviewing in this light. But it makes sense. In order to review a piece of art, you must be knowledgeable in so much more than just that one piece, whereas the artist has no other obligations than to create. Wilde argues that the critic is the highest form of art. I agree with some of what he has to say, but not this. Without art, there are no critics. A chicken and the egg argument, almost, but there must be art to be critiqued. I think the critic is of high importance, but in no circumstance trumps the artist. 

I really liked the form of this piece. Rather than reading a long, droning essay, Wilde spiced it up with a dialogue that serves to counteract areas of debate. 

Stylin' with Strunk and White

Chapter IV: Words and Expressions Commonly Misused stood out to me because, apparently, I misuse a good portion of the words I choose in my writing. Often times, a writer only realizes a word is wrong when getting a graded paper back. This way, maybe, just maybe, I can actually pick the correct words before the fact. 

Revising and rewriting is another thing I need to work on. I tend to word vomit, and when I reread what I've written enough times, some how, it makes sense to me. I want to work on being more meticulous as an editor of my own work.