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Mar. 21st, 2007 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skygiantsI finished my Auden essay about three hours before I expected!
In honor of this, I give you for any of you who care: W.H. Auden, a Life in Brief; or, What I Learned This Quarter
Like Wikipedia, this is not to be used for scholastic purposes.
Auden: *is born*
Little!Auden: I want to be a MINER! A manly manly miner!
Auden's Buddy: So have you ever thought about writing poetry?
Little!Auden: . . . that works too
Auden: *goes to university and writes poetry*
Auden: I'm all . . . rebellious and skanky - and I think I'm kinda gay.
T.S. Eliot: This kid's stuff is totally out there and bizarre. However, people will buy it, so. *publishes*
Auden: This guy is a total right-wing old fogey. But he's giving me money, so! *signs CONTRACT IN BLOOD with T.S. Eliot's Faber and Faber*
Auden: *writes long, mystifying, confusing Epic Poem* Um. I am not sure anyone will get this=.
T.S. Eliot: Who cares? The public are idiots anyways.
Auden: . . . perhaps I will start writing more intelligible poetry in future. It gives me something to do while I'm teaching all these damn kids, anyways.
Auden: Christopher Isherwood is my BESTEST friend-with-benefits/co-writer, and helps me ignore the fact that I'm in love with a fourteen-year-old boy.
Christopher Isherwood: Yeah, that is kind of awkward, man.
Auden: So, Faber and Faber, now I've written a bunch of poems and become kind of famous, will you pay me to go take a vacation to Iceland?
Faber and Faber: Why not. Write something entertaining!
Auden: *hangs out in Iceland* *writes a travel book and also a long, long poetic letter to his current imaginary friend, Lord Byron*
Auden: I would have written to Jane Austen but she is SCARY. And I don't think she likes people writing to her when they have not been properly introduced.
(Lord Byron: *reads* Not bad poetry, but not enough sex.)
Auden: So, that went well. Will you guys pay me to go to Spain too?
Faber and Faber: Sure. Try not to get shot.
Auden: *writes Very Famous Poem about how everyone should go to Spain and fight against the fascist oppressors*
Several people: *do*
Auden: *meanwhile, takes off for China with Christopher Isherwood*
Auden and Isherwood: So, wanna show us around your warzone? We're totally, totally left-wing!
Important Chinese Communists: 'kay.
Meanwhile . . .
George Orwell: *reads Spain* Auden is a pansy** and everyone who dies in Spain because he wrote a stupid poem, it is HIS FAULT.
Auden and Isherwood: *go to America*
World: *declares war*
Auden: *writes more famous poems*
Auden: *reads Orwell commentary* WHUT. I am notyour internet mommy society's midwife! You know what, screw y'all. Poetry makes nothing happen. NOTHING.
Literary World: BLASPHEMY!!!!
Auden: AND ENGLAND SUCKS TOO.
Literary World: :O!!!!!!!
Auden: CANNOT COPE. OFF TOMORDOR NEW YORK AGAIN.
Various critics: And that is when Auden stopped writing good poetry.
Other critics: BLASPHEMY. He only got better with age!
Becca's professor: At any rate, that is when we ran out of time for the course readings. So let me sum up.
Auden, over the next thirty years: *writes lots of poems*
Auden: So, guys, you wanna hear my new stuff?
Audience: Um. How about that old one about stopping all the clocks? I liked that.
Auden: . . .
Audience: What about the one, 'lay your sleeping head, my love'? That one was sweet.
Auden: Sentimental drivel. But I have this really good new one about-
Audience: Okay, the one about Spain? Or September 1, 1939, that one's always good -
Auden: I HATED THOSE BOTH SO MUCH I WOULDN'T LET PEOPLE PRINT THEM IN MY ANTHOLOGIES.
Audience: Chill, man.
Becca's Professor: Now go turn this into a paper! :D
**essentially a direct quote from Orwell
In honor of this, I give you for any of you who care: W.H. Auden, a Life in Brief; or, What I Learned This Quarter
Like Wikipedia, this is not to be used for scholastic purposes.
Auden: *is born*
Little!Auden: I want to be a MINER! A manly manly miner!
Auden's Buddy: So have you ever thought about writing poetry?
Little!Auden: . . . that works too
Auden: *goes to university and writes poetry*
Auden: I'm all . . . rebellious and skanky - and I think I'm kinda gay.
T.S. Eliot: This kid's stuff is totally out there and bizarre. However, people will buy it, so. *publishes*
Auden: This guy is a total right-wing old fogey. But he's giving me money, so! *signs CONTRACT IN BLOOD with T.S. Eliot's Faber and Faber*
Auden: *writes long, mystifying, confusing Epic Poem* Um. I am not sure anyone will get this=.
T.S. Eliot: Who cares? The public are idiots anyways.
Auden: . . . perhaps I will start writing more intelligible poetry in future. It gives me something to do while I'm teaching all these damn kids, anyways.
Auden: Christopher Isherwood is my BESTEST friend-with-benefits/co-writer, and helps me ignore the fact that I'm in love with a fourteen-year-old boy.
Christopher Isherwood: Yeah, that is kind of awkward, man.
Auden: So, Faber and Faber, now I've written a bunch of poems and become kind of famous, will you pay me to go take a vacation to Iceland?
Faber and Faber: Why not. Write something entertaining!
Auden: *hangs out in Iceland* *writes a travel book and also a long, long poetic letter to his current imaginary friend, Lord Byron*
Auden: I would have written to Jane Austen but she is SCARY. And I don't think she likes people writing to her when they have not been properly introduced.
(Lord Byron: *reads* Not bad poetry, but not enough sex.)
Auden: So, that went well. Will you guys pay me to go to Spain too?
Faber and Faber: Sure. Try not to get shot.
Auden: *writes Very Famous Poem about how everyone should go to Spain and fight against the fascist oppressors*
Several people: *do*
Auden: *meanwhile, takes off for China with Christopher Isherwood*
Auden and Isherwood: So, wanna show us around your warzone? We're totally, totally left-wing!
Important Chinese Communists: 'kay.
Meanwhile . . .
George Orwell: *reads Spain* Auden is a pansy** and everyone who dies in Spain because he wrote a stupid poem, it is HIS FAULT.
Auden and Isherwood: *go to America*
World: *declares war*
Auden: *writes more famous poems*
Auden: *reads Orwell commentary* WHUT. I am not
Literary World: BLASPHEMY!!!!
Auden: AND ENGLAND SUCKS TOO.
Literary World: :O!!!!!!!
Auden: CANNOT COPE. OFF TO
Various critics: And that is when Auden stopped writing good poetry.
Other critics: BLASPHEMY. He only got better with age!
Becca's professor: At any rate, that is when we ran out of time for the course readings. So let me sum up.
Auden, over the next thirty years: *writes lots of poems*
Auden: So, guys, you wanna hear my new stuff?
Audience: Um. How about that old one about stopping all the clocks? I liked that.
Auden: . . .
Audience: What about the one, 'lay your sleeping head, my love'? That one was sweet.
Auden: Sentimental drivel. But I have this really good new one about-
Audience: Okay, the one about Spain? Or September 1, 1939, that one's always good -
Auden: I HATED THOSE BOTH SO MUCH I WOULDN'T LET PEOPLE PRINT THEM IN MY ANTHOLOGIES.
Audience: Chill, man.
Becca's Professor: Now go turn this into a paper! :D
**essentially a direct quote from Orwell
