Michael, I do think this question quite on topic: what is "obsessive" and what is a "healthy fascination"?
also re: Morrissey, you and him seem to agree, not disagree, at least with regards to the statements you posted, his statement, and keep in mind he was being interviewed and that alone may cause the admiration of something otherwise (or at least some sensitivity to some of its traits) to come off as "a defensive" [negative] admission, while you optioned to start this topic of your own volition [positive] to celebrate shared admiration, and interest in and of Plath herself: to exchange knowledge and learn more about: "her life and death - Morrissey" i.e., "her life's stories - Michael". [Also it makes sense Morrissey would not care much for her writing, it is wonderfully devoid of the specific style of "wit" he himself is so drawn to, so much so, that it has come to define his own voice (breed/blend of strengths/weaknesses) so distinctly.]
You and Hattie are right-on spotlighting the poetry, my exclusion of it's mention using the "p-word" directly, a most definitely personal "issue/problem" I have, even more deep-seated than the one I have with "Lit." Tho, I did cover her poetry in quite a favorable light, but, in my own way: I do believe if you read aloud the graph in my post above starting "I do believe I recall" – which is most definitely the climax of my post -- you'll find the measure and meter one and the same as "Daddy." But on some level, I suspect you recognized that.
[[And yes, I do get a lot of things right on, and often times it has nothing to do with reading in a traditional sense (scanner that I am), tho, I am easily dismissed and turn folks off easily due to my having the great outward camouflage of appearing completely self-absorbed. (BTW: I am so thrilled you and are crossing dancefloors more and more often, as I've always found you beautiful both on the boards and in the flesh.)]]
And S'tan RE !!!!!
quote:
Just recently in Paris, in the great old Shakespeare & Co. bookstore, was pleased to see about forty copies of her husband Ted Hughes' works sitting on a high shelf gathering dust
thank you for this. your posting it, it made me feel such love for someone's understanding I glowed and thawed
--"Worthiness" of Suicide, no longer?: I reply with some really semi-boring theology by Miss Tonya: "On Suicide" (boy doesn't that scream red book, white letters?) Suicide is a social ill known only to communal organisms. Society has evolved to fear and loathe that which is different [freakish], society kills and destroys potential threats (new ways, unusual ways of thinking early on), especially when "the son does not resemble the father" i.e., when the iconic impact of an individual is so powerful, their existance alone forces the larger sociecty to question preexisting and excepted truth. When this happens the "the abomination" must be exercized (ironically it is the individual that is destroyed, cast out, rejected not the malfunctioning ideology). Suicide/depression, IMO, at the root, is a social malfease, it must be dealt with there first, the psychological illness and eventual physical weakening and destruction, the individual's resulting internalization of this battle: the individual human's last stand at finding/proving itself worthy of existence/love in society, of another, and of themselves. Often times, the resulting winner of this battle is in many ways a monster, and the loser, what he or she takes with them, a loss forever to society on the whole, leaving like minds ever wondering and wanting more ... tragedy ...
I went to take a snap this morning of "THe Bell Jar" in the hall to share with all of you only to discover the book is now gone and the shelf recently rearranged ... hmmm ... well it's on the outer door now, so not really gone.