Remember To Forget

Three days ago I wrote this blog entry, but for some strange reason, it erased from my computer’s memory, and apparently, mine too. But let me try to remember [seats back and thinks]…

I recall I was writing about one moment I lived as a child. It was Cartagena, January 1st, 2004, more or less. The details I don’t quite bear in mind, but I still hear the heavy waves hitting the ‘malecones’ in Cartagena’s beach, while hearing the Beach Guards shouting “¡Cuidado con el mar, hay mar deleva, mantengan a sus hijos con ustedes!” Then, for a moment, my brother goes in to the sea… Then I go after him and then, black out. Next thing I remember: myself laid in the hot sand. My brother beside me. And that’s it. Nothing else feeds my memories from that day. And then, while I write this blog I ask myself, are memories a source of happiness or sorrow? Are we destined to remember our memories or forget them?

I don’t know whether I should try to remember, or try to forget what I wrote the other day. But anyways, my writing is fed by my thoughts, and right now, my thoughts are in the past. I keep in mind [drinks some Coke]…

In this first act of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard portrays many of the characters’ memories, and how the time line jumps between present and past (Time and time). As well, the reader is able to find Lopakhin very cognizant and insensitive with himself: “I may be rich, I’ve made a lot of money, but if you think about it, analyze it, I’m a peasant through and through” (Chekhov 322). He recalls the word “peasant” a couple of times, reflecting his brutal past. Apparently his dad beat him as a child. On the other hand,the dichotomy created by his actual richness, against his past poverty shows how his self-consciousness lies within that dreary memories of his past [he stops writing].

My memory is blank. That’s more or less what I wrote the other day. Maybe I am doomed to forget it forever, as many other memories [He struggles to finish his entry. He knows tomorrow these words will be just memories]. I leave this entry like this. I don´t know who might read it, to be forgotten [He saves, posts, and done]. Oblivion.

White Jim, Black Huck

If yu think about it, I’m not too much of a writer. Insted, I like to read and inform myself of da diffrent hapenings of the world I liv in. Im da only one in my family who can read and write, so im sorri if I don’t spell too wel, im only lerning. Anyways, I wanted to take advantage of dis article I red last nite, it was one I pick’d up from da garbage can in Cairo. This article talked about my ole frend Mark Twain, who used to pas by my pap´s farm every once in a while. Hi came by and by tellin’ me he needed someone to inspire his story. So, I present him Huck Finn. Luk, here he is with me, I will let him write coz im not to much of writer.

You don’t know about me. I tell you da truth. The man by da name of Mark Twain came to me and told me to write his story. It was me, not a supposed nigger by da name of Jimmy. And I says, dat was my story, and I don’t understand why you call it satire. What is dat? I know not about satire, only I know dat “there warn’t no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don’t. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft” (90). That was everything that Mr. Mark Twain liked from my story. My experience in the raft showed a romantic portrayal of life. Don’t ask me what does dat mean because I know not, I’m only telling you what Mr. Twain told me. But anyways, all you needed to know is dat. And also, I am not black. But my story is only my experience of freedom in a country which lacked it. My good companion Jim, he is a nigger, but he taught me to forget my problems in life and live only with freedom by my side. And even though I’m not black, my story is, as that article my friend told you about said, “a black root in white consciousness.”

Feeling Talkative

Mr. Twain, do you believed niggers had red blood? Or that the Duke and the King had blue blood?

In every conversation between Huck and Jim I found out the differences were notable.

Niggers will never learn to argue, apparently. He would go on and argue that a Frenchman must talk like an American, and not differently. Then, is Jim being insulted, or is it just minstrel show?

So they say it’s a manner of comedy. And pages before this Frenchman episode, I was LOL while poor Jim suffered with the snake bite. Yeah, poor him, but it made my day!

There I was reading “Jim sucked and sucked at the jug, and now and then he got out of his head and pitched around and yelled; but every time he come up to himself he went to sucking at the jug again” (Twain 65).

Remembering Don Quixote while I read it. When the reader enjoys the suffering of a character, its grotesque. Then, is Twain being grotesque in Jim’s snake bite, or the Duke’s and King’s torment when the money bag disappeared?

Enacting a version of minstrelsy, Mr. Twain, you guide the reader through your story, and make him understand it. Entertainment is the key.

Living the story is better than reading it. The dialogue, and the contrast between Jim’s accent with that of Huck makes it a good experience for the reader. Makes him live the Minstrel Show.

Language As A Pillar Of History

My last blog was last year. I remember blogging about Pride and Prejudice, the type of book I don’t enjoy reading. Instead, during my Christmas break I was able to read something quite better. Mark Twain’s The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn. But now I start this year reading an essay suggesting that the original version of the book contains demeaning vocabulary. Off course. Twain is portraying reality of a racist society in pre-Civil War America. Changing the language would be like changing the epoch. It would be like giving AK-47s to every Confederate. Ridiculous. Changing words, or these “hurtful epithets” as the author states, would take off the essence of a racist society, trying to portray it as a different one.

Sorry if I don’t amuse you, but I haven’t wrote a blog in a year. Anyways, to entertain my point I would like to get any sentence from Twain’s book and try to write it in a modern, educative language: “That’s so my boy – good bye, good bye. If you say any runaway niggers, you get help and nab them, and you can make some money by it” (Twain 127). Let’s see. Very well, fine young man. Farewell. If you see any fugitive slaves, you get some help and catch them, and might get some reward. Different huh? Language composes a part of any country’s history. And changing it would be like saying that the United States won the War of Vietnam. The book enhances a historical period, with historical accuracy. Let’s keep it constant and not hide the reality of their language.