Thursday, November 2, 2006

Too much Frou Frou for my own good

Hallo Louise - I've frou-froued this evening, just for you, and I hope you feel the benefit - never let it be said that anyone should leave The Daily unfulfilled.

It's almost 22.30 and I've just finished work on Chasing Freedom, again (I dream about this database, you know), so you'll have to excuse me if I'm lacking a little, well, frou-frou (look it up, you know you want to).

Kit-Kat Kate, my friend who is currently holidaying with her parents in Africa, texted me this morning to tell me that she had watched the sunset over the Atlantic yesterday, whilst sat next to a penguin. This puzzled me for quite some time. Penguins? In Africa? Well of course, I had to consult my friend Google (I dread to think what Google's cache of my searches looks like - this evening I followed a search for Sylvia Plath with a search for African penguins, ah the sheer eclecticism of the human mind...) and it turns out, yes, there are actually penguins in Africa. And if you don't believe me, you can look it up yourself at:

I decided that as I was so tired this evening this was as good a time as any to get around to posting some of Sylvia Plath's poetry - hence the Google search for Plath this evening. Then, of course, I remembered that Plath's work is closely and jealously guarded by the Plath estate and that they personally hunt down and paper cut to death anyone who dares quote her without permission. The most offensive thing about this is that the Plath estate is actually run by Olga Hughes, Ted Hughes sister, and there has been much speculation by Plath biographers that Olga is more interested in protecting her brother's reputation than in preserving or commemorating Plath's memory and work. To get even more gossipy about it, some people have even alleged that Olga never even liked Plath, and don't get me started on how Hughes burnt two of Plath's notebooks after she died.

So I was going to just post links to her poems instead, and guess what I found? That in the last few days, a new Plath poem had been 'discovered' (took their time), called Ennui, and for the reasons cited above, I'm not allowed to post it here, but I can provide you with the link. The poem is about fortune tellers and the impossibility of reading the future and it was written in her senior years at college in the mid fifties.

If you're a fan of Plath, this will be a pleasure, and if not, this may be your chance to discover her, though I would recommend starting with her fiction and then moving to her poems. My favourite Plath poems are 'Daddy', 'Tulips' and 'You're'. In that order. The picture I've posted of Plath alongside today's entry also hangs on my bedroom wall, alongside a portrait of Germaine Greer and the Women's Movement Creed (ah, I kid you not!).

Today's Beautiful Things

1. My mum, for all the usual reasons

2. The crisp, shining cold of this morning after a night of crazy dreams

3. Finishing work!


Anonymous said...

What about the Chief? No mention of him today. (I like the Chief too!)

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