Hit the Fan

Wednesday, 16 April 2003

it hit the fan to­day in po­etry class, but i do not feel vil­i­fied. what i wanted was dis­cus­sion and by gum i got it. some few were of­fended, most dis­cussed what ex­actly i was go­ing for, rang­ing from satire to prima nocta rights. some wanted me to make the end­ing dif­fer­ent to ac­knowl­edge my un­der­stand­ing of rape = bad. oth­ers dis­agreed. every­one had some­thing to say. all was well. i suc­cess­fully stirred the pot. then i was al­lowed to speak. i said that there have been a sig­nif­i­cant amount of rape po­ems writ­ten in this class by var­i­ous peo­ple and that i have had trou­ble en­gag­ing within them. there is the fe­male vic­tim, which women can iden­tify with, but for men there is only the rapist. i said that i do not feel that i am be­ing ad­dressed by these po­ems.

there was much dis­agree­ment to this. i was told i was wrong, that i was be­ing ad­dressed. alas, there was no more time for dis­cus­sion, be­cause the pro­fes­sor made us move on. if so i would have re­sponded that if i do not feel like i am be­ing ad­dressed but i am sup­posed to be, then there is a fun­da­men­tal prob­lem with the po­etry. also, i would have said that even if i did feel ad­dressed, i am still of­fered no frame of ref­er­ence for how to as­soc­iate my­self as a non-threat­en­ing male to­ward a vic­tim­ized fe­male. the di­a­logue takes place be­tween the rapist and his vic­tim only.

over­all the class be­came what i wanted it to. i am quite pleased.


Tuesday, 8 April 2003

i’ve been get­ting emails from the class i dropped lately. ap­par­ently, the group i had signed up to do a pre­sen­ta­tion with at the be­gin­ning of the year had not re­al­ized i dropped the class over a month ago. i’ve been rev­el­ing in their email strug­gles to set up a time to meet with my pro­fes­sor. to­day how­ever, my sadis­tic voyeurism ended. the prof fi­nally re­al­ized that i was on the email list and was no longer in the class, thereby in­form­ing the rest of the group that “Adam Harvey is no longer a part of the class.” i could sense the venom in those words, es­pe­cially since she sent the email to me as well. poor crap­tas­tic ex-teacher of mine.

in other news, i’m so tired of read­ing po­ems about rape in my po­etry class that i am go­ing to fight back. Now, the very fact that each week there is at least one poem a week writ­ten by a girl about sex­ual as­sault or rape or the in­va­sive, vi­o­lent as­pects of sex, points to a va­ri­ety of prob­lems. first, that things like this oc­cur on a scale such as this, sec­ond, that even if said writ­ers have not been raped, they still feel that they must write about it con­stantly. third, that i have yet to see a poem that is con­struc­tive or feels even slightly en­joy­able to­ward the sex­ual act. And fourth, that the po­ems i’ve been read­ing about rape are so un­con­struc­tive and have be­come so stale that i feel that i must write a poem from the stand­point of a rapist. at first my friend Kate sug­gested i write a poem as if i’d been raped. i im­me­di­ately changed it to be­ing a rapist. its quite more con­fronta­tional and i think i can chan­nel my ex­as­per­a­tion af­ter 13 weeks of rape po­ems quite nicely. what is my po­etry class com­ing to? jee­bus.