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[xaara]

Am I a terrible person for snickering to myself every time my poetry professor says "epitaph" when she means "epigraph" and not stepping in to correct her because I like the idea of writing poems about things you find on headstones?

I am, aren't I. I am going to the one hundred and twenty-third circle of Hell, the one reserved for those who obsess over the OED and love it when their professors make spelling mistakes on the chalkboard. And for the people who know how to spell "daguerreotype." Long story.

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[xaara.livejournal.com]

Well, I went through a phase where I was obsessed with the history of photography, mostly inspired by this fantastic book of photographs by Edward R. Curtis called The North American Indian. My parents had a copy when I was eight or nine, and I'd spend hours just flipping through it, staring at the pictures until my eyes hurt. Mom was of course very careful to present the images as viewpoints interpreted by someone ignorant of the cultures he was documenting; Curtis definitely saw the American Indians as primitive and framed them as such. And there is that problem with the photos. But laying aside the political, they're just beautiful art. (The photos are actually online here (http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/award98/ienhtml/curthome.html).)

He's actually a decent professor--very smart, entertaining lecturer--but I dunno. I feel like I've learned a lot from him, but he's not one of the professors I can just sit back and love.