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Is Richard Siken a Samgirl or a Deangirl?
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motherlessguns, you guys! It's like gid_hanasheh but for Winchesters. That is to say*, a comm for posting poems that remind you of Winchesters, and poems that you wrote about Winchesters. Come join! SPAM IT WITH SIKEN. 'Kay, so we got a heaven poetry comm, an earth poetry comm. To round things off, we need a hell poetry comm for poems about Ruby and Alastair. y/n?
*Can we popularize the acronym TITS already?
I uploaded some songs from SinoSikat?'s debut album for some people, and I'm gonna throw the links up here too because SinoSikat? are pretty sexy, lemme tell ya. They're from Manila, and they got this badass soul-jazz-groove thing going on.
So Blue - the single. The music video is also pretty cool.
Praning - the 'tude
Akin Ka - the jazz
Item the third, I watched My Bloody Valentine. What an emotionally complex and intellectually satisfying movie that was! The decapitation-by-shovel scene was such a nuanced commentary on the duality of man, and the naked girl titty-bouncing in the parking lot moved me to my very core.
Okay seriously now, where is the Dean/Tom fic.
[originally posted at http://whynot.dreamwidth.org/25740.html |
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Wishbone is totally about Dean's epic and tragic love for his brother. LOL. Just replace Henry with Sam. I've talked about this poem with so many people as it relates to Sam/Dean, so let me not bore you with my passionate thesis on the topic :P And yes, even though I like to mess with the bestie and raise my Dean/Cas + Siken flag (oh, poetry ship wars!), Crush is totally a Wincestuous book overall. All the road stories paint so easily over S/D. Okay, let me admit -- poetry dork that I am -- I have outlined about a dozen poems from that collection that are completely and ridiculously about Sam/Dean and have analyzed from which of the boy's pov he's talking from. "Little Beast" is my favorite from Sam's POV. I is a geek.
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Ya, true. Wishbone strikes me as S2 finale coda. I think "Unfinished Duet" and "Torn-Up Road" are pretty Sammish too. Then again, these days I read poetry with my SPN-glasses on, so. So I am totally on board with your method of poetry analysis!
Ahaha, poetry ship wars! Wanking in iambic pentameter. XD
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And yes, Torn-Up Road and Unfinished Duet, most definitely. There are a few more that map easily over Sam's POV (which would argue that Siken is a Samgirl) BUT so much of Siken's relationship to the man he's writing about in this collection reads as Dean's relationship to Sam IMHO. So I often see a lot more of what he's writing from Dean's POV. So much of it fits so nicely in Dean's angsty headspace (but that's probably just my Wincest fanon speaking, lol). I have this whole thesis I tell you.
Philip Levine is one of my other huge Sam/Dean (or Sam&Dean) poets. This (http://nyoka.livejournal.com/174009.html) being one of my favorites by him.
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Interesting. I am only halfway through Crush and am finding more Dean poems because of the Henry thing, but I never considered the ease of Sam projection. The whole thing just makes me have the ludicrous desire to ask Siken if he watches Supernatural. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR OUT YOUR THESIS. What is it about poetry/SPN OTP that is so satisfying?
That poem is excellent, thanks for the link. It's like Sam POV post-5x16 and pre-5x18. I am especially heartbreak at this section:
Thirty years will pass before I remember
that moment when suddenly I knew each man
has one brother who dies when he sleeps
and sleeps when he rises to face this life,
and that together they are only one man
sharing a heart that always labours, hands
yellowed and cracked, a mouth that gasps
for breath and asks, Am I gonna make it?
AND ALSO THE LAST VERSE AAAAAAAHHHH
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Me too! I...um...may know someone who did ask something of a sort once in a letter to him. *g* I'm sure he thought said letter writer was insane.
I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR OUT YOUR THESIS.
OMG, why do you enable my madness? Okay, I promise to write it out one day. Fandom should totally be a grad program, y/y?
What is it about poetry/SPN OTP that is so satisfying?
I don't even know! But I am so happy I found you and Gid. I think I friended you b/c I stumbled upon your Wordsverse and I was like...I'm going to totally
stalkfriend this person and try not to embarrass myself. And see, I thought I was all alone in my SPN/Poetry OTPness and lo and behold I see it is indeed a movement. A Siken-inspired movement. My heart is full to bursting with verse. :D Seriously, every poem I read these days, I'm like...Sammy! Dean! Cas! Fandom is a life ruiner.no subject
D'aww! I had been seeing you around and admiring your aesthetics, so when you friended me I was thrilled. I have been meaning to go back and write Wordsverse 4x16, and maybe 4x10 and 4x20. Like apparently everyone else, my to-write list is miles long.
Fandom IS a life-ruiner. Fandom is a way of life. XD
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which is to say, you should post that poem to the comm! :D?
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You know Siken wrote Crush all about his dying lover. It just breaks my heart every time I read it.
Awesome idea for a comm, btw. Last year my friends and I use to post Sam/Dean and Sam&Dean poems of the week, so I can look back to my old posts and totally repost some of those to the new comm. This year I've been all about Castiel and Dean/Cas poems, but I still should go back to my Winchester boys from time to time. :D
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I wish it had existed before when you guys were posting poems of the week! it is kind of a result of my discovering SPN two weeks before taking this poetry class, heh. I think there should be more mass spn/poetry=OTP fangirling in general, hooray :D
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I postulate that Siken identifies as a Winchestersgirl but is secretly a Samgirl but sometimes gets confused. My evidence is as follows:
1
An all-night barbeque. A dance on the courthouse lawn.
The radio aches a little tune that tells the story of what the night
is thinking. It's thinking of love.
It's thinking of stabbing us to death
and leaving our bodies in a dumpster.
That's a nice touch, stains in the night, whiskey and kisses for everyone.
Tonight, by the freeway, a man eating fruit pie with a buckknife
carves the likeness of his lover's face into the motel wall. I like him
and I want to be like him, my hands no longer an afterthought.
2
Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure.
I'm sure you remember, I was on the phone with you, sweetheart.
3
History repeats itself. Somebody says this.
History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop,
over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters.
History is a little man in a brown suit
trying to define a room he is outside of.
I know history. There are many names in history
but none of them are ours.
4
He had green eyes,
so I wanted to sleep with him—
green eyes flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool-
You could drown in those eyes, I said.
The fact of his pulse,
the way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire
not to disturb the air around him.
Everyone could see the way his muscles worked,
the way we look like animals,
his skin barely keeping him inside.
I wanted to take him home
and rough him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his
like a crash test car.
I wanted to be wanted and he was
very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving.
You could drown in those eyes, I said,
so it's summer, so it's suicide,
so we're helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.
5
It wasn't until we were well past the middle of it
that we realized
the old dull pain, whose stitched wrists and clammy fingers,
far from being subverted,
had only slipped underneath us, freshly scrubbed.
Mirrors and shop windows returned our faces to us,
replete with the tight lips and the eyes that remained eyes
and not the doorways we had hoped for.
His wounds healed, the skin a bit thicker than before,
scars like train tracks on his arms and on his body underneath his shirt.
6
We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars
as the roads around us
grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through a glass
already laced with frost,
but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out
of lullabies.
But damn if there isn't anything sexier
than a slender boy with a handgun,
a fast car, a bottle of pills.
TOO MUCH POETRY REQUIRES SECOND COMMENT D:
What would you like? I'd like my money's worth.
Try explaining a life bundled with episodes of this—
swallowing mud, swallowing glass, the smell of blood
on the first four knuckles.
We pull our boots on with both hands
but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do
is stand on the curb and say Sorry
about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.
I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
BUT OKAY, BUT. DYLAN THOMAS IS SUCH A SAMGIRL. AS FOLLOWS:
I dreamed my genesis in sweat of sleep, breaking
Through the rotating shell, strong
As motor muscle on the drill, driving
Through vision and the girdered nerve.
From limbs that had the measure of the worm, shuffled
Off from the ceasing flesh, filed
Through all the irons in the grass, metal
Of suns in the man-melting night.
Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop, costly
A creature in my bones I
Rounded my globe of heritage, journey
In bottom gear though night-geared man.
I dreamed my genesis and died again, shrapnel
Rammed in the marching heart, hole
In the stitched wound and clotted wind, muzzled
Death on the mouth that ate the gas.
Sharp in my second death I marked the hills, harvest
Of hemlock and the blades, rust
My blood upon the tempered dead, forcing
My second struggling from the grass.
And power was contagious in my birth, second
Rise of the skeleton and
Rerobing on the naked ghost. Manhood
Spat up from the resuffered pain.
I dreamed my genesis in sweat of death, fallen
Twice in the feeding sea, grown
Stale of Adam's brine until, vision
Of new man strength, I seek the sun.
V. v. compelling, am I right. That's not a question; I am totally right.
Oh man, My Bloody Valentine was the beeeeeeest. It is the gold standard to which I hold all B-horror movies. Batvoice? Y. Higher body count in the first ten minutes than I've seen in any movie since? Y. Ludicrously lulzy plot twist that you could see coming after the first 15 minutes? Y. Filmed in Pittsburgh? YYYYY. The Oscar snub was really unforgivable.
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Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop, costly
A creature in my bones I
Rounded my globe of heritage
;____; saaaaam. HEIR TO SO MUCH SHIT.
My favorite part (and I have many favorites) was when he looked into the camera at the end. It's like he's coming for me next!!! Between this and Stonehenge Apocalypse, I am just... blissed out. On SUCH DIVINE CINEMA.
Pittsburgh! AHA, I thought I saw Pennsylvania plates.
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I mean, possibly my expectations were too high for a movie titled MY BLOODY VALENTINE where like, the valentine thing made absolutely no sense. But I was surprised by Evil!Jensen!
They should really give us Possessed!Dean someday, dammit.
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They should really give us Possessed!Dean someday, dammit.
Co-signed so hard.
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again. expecting too much.
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I DON'T KNOW WHETHER TO D: OR TO LOL
FUCKIN WINCHESTERS. HOW DO THEY WORK?!
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