<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180</id><updated>2011-12-01T03:06:24.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Portrait of the Artist</title><subtitle type='html'>Musings, writings, stories, poems, and other bullshit.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>54</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-115800554270250926</id><published>2006-09-11T16:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T04:00:33.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It Was a Teenage Wedding, and the Old Folks Wished Them Ill    -or-    What if Romeo and Juliet Didn’t Kill Themselves?</title><summary type='text'>It Was a Teenage Wedding, and the Old Folks Wished Them Ill-or-What if Romeo and Juliet Didn’t Kill Themselves?By: James SnoddyAct IScene iEnter Romeo and Juliet as they awaken in the Capulet crypt after their respective suicide attempts.Romeo: What noise?  My heart moves a bit!    What of my lady, fair Juliet?  Doth she stir by my side,  Must be I dreaming yet I died?  Such strange events as I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/115800554270250926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=115800554270250926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/115800554270250926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/115800554270250926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2006/09/it-was-teenage-wedding-and-old-folks.html' title='It Was a Teenage Wedding, and the Old Folks Wished Them Ill    -or-    What if Romeo and Juliet Didn’t Kill Themselves?'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-113546628390250177</id><published>2005-12-24T18:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T16:15:03.353-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Contemplation of Murder</title><summary type='text'>Tonight I sit and contemplate premeditated murder.  I’m on the rooftop of someone who doesn’t know I’m there, to kill someone I’ve never met.  Men are supposed to come here tonight, to this place, this courtyard.  They also have premeditated murder on their minds, although it’s directed at me in general, whereas mine is directed specifically at them, whoever they might be.   It’s dark, about 0330</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/113546628390250177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=113546628390250177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/113546628390250177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/113546628390250177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/12/contemplation-of-murder.html' title='Contemplation of Murder'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-112790105479220911</id><published>2005-09-28T05:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T20:48:04.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yaaaaaaaaaaaar</title><summary type='text'>We left Kuwait about a month ago, and ended up in Mosul, Iraq.  It's a lovely town, full of people who love us, clean air, no garbage, and loads of economic opportunities.  Oh wait, no, that's where I was.  Mosul makes New Orleans look like Shagri-La.  People have sewage from their toliets drain directly onto the street.  Wild dogs, cows, and donkeys graze through the myriad of garbage left on </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/112790105479220911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=112790105479220911' title='34 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/112790105479220911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/112790105479220911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/09/yaaaaaaaaaaaar.html' title='Yaaaaaaaaaaaar'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>34</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-112584087960086234</id><published>2005-09-04T09:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T09:34:39.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yar</title><summary type='text'>Thus far, I have done next nothing in the Middle East.  It is cooling off, however, and we should experience another 10 or so degree drop in Mosul.  I am tenatively coming home for two weeks in January 2006, so keep that on your calendars...I'm running a desert 10K tomorrow morning with SGT Jason Lang.  We've decided to actually race it if it looks like we can win.  Should be a hell of a T-shirt </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/112584087960086234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=112584087960086234' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/112584087960086234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/112584087960086234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/09/yar.html' title='Yar'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-112532817733828817</id><published>2005-08-29T11:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T11:09:37.336-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The following pix</title><summary type='text'>Are of Kuwait, the North Pole, and Fairbanks (Alaska).  This is one of my favourite pictures, Rhonda and I in DC, last May.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/112532817733828817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=112532817733828817' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/112532817733828817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/112532817733828817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/08/following-pix.html' title='The following pix'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111974935088414862</id><published>2005-06-25T21:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-25T21:29:10.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Journey</title><summary type='text'>So I left Fort Benning on June 10th and have essentially been on the road ever since.  I spent a fun filled week in DC with Jimmy, Brian, Josh, Rhonda, Rob, etc.  Hit up the Old Ebbitt and the usual joints in DC, VA, and College Park. On the 17th I bounced up to Rochester to see Benny, Bret, Jonny, Dave, Brian, Timmy, Mikey, Missy, and my Dad.  We kicked ass all week and basically now my liver is</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111974935088414862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111974935088414862' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111974935088414862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111974935088414862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/06/journey.html' title='Journey'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111791981013381665</id><published>2005-06-04T17:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T17:16:50.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Perceptions</title><summary type='text'>Is perception reality?If reality is how you perceive the world outside your mind, then isn’t perception reality?  For instance, if I think stapler is red, and my friend does as well, is it really red?  Someone who is colorblind won’t think that the stapler is red, although, if he knows that he is colorblind, he will undoubtedly defer to the person who isn’t, and call the stapler red, although </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111791981013381665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111791981013381665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111791981013381665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111791981013381665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/06/perceptions.html' title='Perceptions'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111564428743897398</id><published>2005-05-09T08:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-09T09:11:27.486-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Immortality</title><summary type='text'>Any halfway talented rhetorician can make 2+2=5.  For instance, the logical syllogism: All humans are mortal, is based on a major and minor premise, If all humans are mortal and I am human, then I am mortal.  This seems right, since all the signs point towards death at some point.Check this out: Ok, about two thousand years ago, human life expectancy was around 25 years.  Now, it is about 85 for </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111564428743897398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111564428743897398' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111564428743897398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111564428743897398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/05/immortality.html' title='Immortality'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111455576978797313</id><published>2005-04-26T18:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T18:51:47.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Barroom Courtship</title><summary type='text'>Legal Proceeding/Term:    Barroom Seduction EquivalentWrit of Habeas Corpus:    Where is the (hot) body?Opening Arguments:     Your Wingman has breached the defensesCross Examination:     Other men, trying to cock-blockHostile Witness:      Her big, fat friendJury:                 Your drunk, obnoxious friendsClosing Statement:     It’s about that time Verdict:       Yes, I’ll go home with you, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111455576978797313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111455576978797313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111455576978797313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111455576978797313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/04/barroom-courtship.html' title='Barroom Courtship'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111453621283807770</id><published>2005-04-26T13:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T13:27:28.090-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Liam</title><summary type='text'>This is my new nephew, Liam Scully.  5 lbs., 12 oz., of pure fight!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111453621283807770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111453621283807770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111453621283807770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111453621283807770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/04/liam.html' title='Liam'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111453615990628211</id><published>2005-04-26T13:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T13:27:57.010-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Ebbitt Grill</title><summary type='text'>My favorite eating establishment in DC, the Old Ebbitt Grill.  It's a classy, old time saloon, so whatever you do, Mike Kay, don't ask the bartender for a fucking white wine spritzer.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111453615990628211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111453615990628211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111453615990628211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111453615990628211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/04/old-ebbitt-grill.html' title='Old Ebbitt Grill'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111453603922118670</id><published>2005-04-26T13:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T13:30:59.696-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Muddin</title><summary type='text'>Ranger/Sapper/Airborne Dave Coloumbe trying to get the CSOV (Coloumbe Special Operations Vehicle) out of the glorious Alabama red clay, just off Fryar Drop Zone.  A lovely day, we decided to get muddy.  We ended up at Wal-Mart in Phenix City, Alabama to buy 70 feet of large gauge chain so that I could use my Jeep, Alexandra, to tow the CSOV out of the mire.  No one gave us a second glance as we </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111453603922118670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111453603922118670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111453603922118670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111453603922118670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/04/muddin.html' title='Muddin'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111291732550738380</id><published>2005-04-05T19:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-07T19:42:05.510-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chain Gang</title><summary type='text'>As I was running today, I discovered one more sad truth about the so-called 'southern experience': chain gangs.  I was jogging in one of the local parks outside of Columbus, when I encountered several men tending to the grassy areas around the trail.  They were all dressed in white overalls with the words "STATE PRISONER" emblazoned on their backs.  Each man had a separate job, one was raking the</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111291732550738380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111291732550738380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111291732550738380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111291732550738380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/04/chain-gang.html' title='Chain Gang'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247757238714605</id><published>2005-03-10T16:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:55:23.486-04:00</updated><title type='text'>'She' Character List/Descriptions</title><summary type='text'>Character List for the Snodogg Family Charlemagne Bellator:Left his job, wife and son to join the Army three years after college.  He’s looking for something, but he can’t place what it is.  Goes by Chuck, Charles, or Chas.  Doesn’t tell too many people his real name, usually goes by Charles Bell.    Attended the University of Maryland.  Knew Tali and Conrad Halliday from school.  Romantically </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247757238714605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247757238714605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247757238714605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247757238714605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/03/she-character-listdescriptions.html' title='&apos;She&apos; Character List/Descriptions'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247695231436658</id><published>2005-02-09T16:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:53:30.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sun Dappled Afternoon</title><summary type='text'>I was dawdling in the sun,Following my path, it was fun.My youthful, idealistic days,Were spent in many ways.Amongst the cherries,Those lively berries,Along the breathy river,Gooseflesh, windy shiver,Young love then between,King, is she still your Queen?Maryland, mine new home,For good? Or once again I roam?A broad avenue expanse,Life’s own prophetic dance.I see my dappled path,The highs and lows</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247695231436658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247695231436658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247695231436658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247695231436658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/02/sun-dappled-afternoon.html' title='Sun Dappled Afternoon'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247584907283591</id><published>2005-02-09T16:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T15:01:31.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Sun and the Moon and the Skies</title><summary type='text'>And the sun and the moon and the skies,Had prepared me naught for thine eyes.And the wind and the snow and the rain,Were blameless forced remind me the pain.After we each other sorely missed,Quite lengthy the time last we kissed,I quested and searched and looked all over,To find some semblance of you in a lover.Resolved, I set out alone in the night,Can't win with love, try well with might.Some </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247584907283591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247584907283591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247584907283591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247584907283591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/02/and-sun-and-moon-and-skies.html' title='And the Sun and the Moon and the Skies'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247548505203758</id><published>2005-01-12T15:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:55:53.553-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Young-Only</title><summary type='text'>Ruts are tough, but without them, would you appreciate the peaks?  They are better than valleys, and more secure than the heights.  There's no falling out of a rut, there's only climbing out of it.  You could dig it a little deeper to make it a trough, but you wouldn't be able to make the distinction very well.  Human nature dictates that when something is going well, you'll think about how </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247548505203758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247548505203758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247548505203758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247548505203758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/01/young-only.html' title='Young-Only'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247536746503228</id><published>2005-01-12T15:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:56:47.916-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Buddhism</title><summary type='text'>Dear Rhonda- After some thought and a few hours sleep on our conversation last night, I decided to write a little bit in order to better express what I was trying to say.   This is specifically a philosophical discussion with no intention of religious meaning. Basically what I was getting at was the whole fulfillment issue.  I remember when I finally became "self aware" in 9th grade.  I thought </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247536746503228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247536746503228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247536746503228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247536746503228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2005/01/buddhism.html' title='Buddhism'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247570634550824</id><published>2004-12-14T15:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:54:06.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy, NO?</title><summary type='text'>The purple, green, and gold,The tits, the ass, the fights, The blood, the come and mold,How New Orleans spends her nights.The lady with her mask,The fool with his errand,Single-minded have a task,They can’t leave without a brand.The nights are hot and long,Dionysus is their lord,A modern orgiastic throng,Come dawn falls upon its’ sword.Morning removes the gown,The glitz, the glam, the show,Now </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247570634550824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247570634550824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247570634550824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247570634550824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/12/easy-no.html' title='Easy, NO?'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247669798349251</id><published>2004-12-12T16:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:54:30.360-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Balance</title><summary type='text'>Balance And I find I desire,A perfect complement,This need is too dire,To leave to ferment.This balance that I crave,Only when darklonelylone,I believe will help save,This man all alone.Then I meet her somewhere,Honeymoon sweet to taste,Realize I don’t care,Depart with greatest haste.Self-realization hard hits,Ambition and ennui,Once were separate fits, Now hand-in-hand due. (poets note: due is </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247669798349251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247669798349251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247669798349251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247669798349251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/12/balance.html' title='Balance'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247498509187846</id><published>2004-12-12T15:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:57:02.873-04:00</updated><title type='text'>College Park Bike Trail</title><summary type='text'>The bike path in College Park is an integral part of Terp culture.  I have been using it for the past 6 years.  Initially, Cheryl and I did our first run as a couple in CP on it in 1999.  Later on, it was used by me as a running course to stay in shape, look at girls, and clear my head.  Then it became the ROTC APFT 2 mile course.  I used it as a non-public (read: no cops) route to ride my bike, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247498509187846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247498509187846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247498509187846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247498509187846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/12/college-park-bike-trail.html' title='College Park Bike Trail'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247489219486250</id><published>2004-12-12T15:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T15:01:00.163-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Scent</title><summary type='text'>-Scent is instinctual.  It’s not filtered through the cerebrum like sight, touch, hearing, or taste.  The only thing acting upon scent is instinct.  Smells conjure up feelings that are uncontrollable insofar as they cannot be made up.  You may condition yourself to react a certain way to a smell, but only through actually associating the smell with the object/situation.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247489219486250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247489219486250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247489219486250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247489219486250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/12/scent.html' title='Scent'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247324886042785</id><published>2004-11-22T18:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:51:16.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dawn</title><summary type='text'>Dawn.  Or, rather before dawn.  Actually, it’s still fucking dark.  Let’s be frank.  A shitload before dawn.  I always do this.  Go to bed late when I have to get up early.  Then, even worse, I wake up before I must, and can’t fall back to sleep.  I glance towards my alarm clock, moving the almost empty bottle of Shiraz, and see that it’s not quite 5.  We went to bed around 3.  This will make for</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247324886042785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247324886042785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247324886042785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247324886042785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/11/dawn.html' title='Dawn'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247308576062737</id><published>2004-09-22T18:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:32:50.876-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Party Special Forces Invade Confederate Stronghold</title><summary type='text'>Party Special Forces Invade Confederate Stronghold:In what was to be a normal Fort Benning weekend, a sudden urge to flee to Atlanta piqued the interest of James, Doug, Drew, Sean, and Mike.  My friend April had recently moved to the city from the DC area, and we were going to go visit.  Upon arrival, the boys realized that April’s apartment was far better than anything the Army was offering at </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247308576062737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247308576062737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247308576062737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247308576062737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/09/party-special-forces-invade.html' title='Party Special Forces Invade Confederate Stronghold'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247555366109981</id><published>2004-09-21T15:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T15:01:19.780-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shallow</title><summary type='text'>Can’t you see my cheeks redden?My green eyes dilate?My deep breath lessen?I’m in a dire strait.Can’t you feel my pulse?See my fingers shake?Body language can’t be false.Know you not the stakes?My red skin hot to touch, My mind in sixth gear,I want you so much,Your withdrawal my fear.I reach for your hip,You form to my side,I kiss on your lips,And know that you lied.Hot-only girls are for sex and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247555366109981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247555366109981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247555366109981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247555366109981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/09/shallow.html' title='Shallow'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247712639153639</id><published>2004-07-21T16:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:46:03.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'>To the Soldiers, To Make Much of Time</title><summary type='text'>Why would you want to fight?To risk your neck and life?For power, strength, and might?Sacrifice the kids and wife?We Soldier to get paid,And kill to stay alive,We Soldier to get laid,And make the nation thrive.It’s a dusky, lonely trail,Ever going someplace new,Not allowed to fail,Someone dies if you do.Back to the begin,Why choose this profession?You live a life of sin,An ultra-long </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247712639153639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247712639153639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247712639153639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247712639153639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/07/to-soldiers-to-make-much-of-time.html' title='To the Soldiers, To Make Much of Time'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247717118754394</id><published>2004-07-20T16:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:45:30.066-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgeon General’s Warning</title><summary type='text'>The corkscrewed smokeFollows me near,I neither choke,Nor cower in fear.I know why it does,At least I assume:I love my buzz, And nature hates vacuum.Am I that void,That even the senselessPursues to feel joyed,By filling the breathless?I guess I’m transparent,To those that can see,What’s not apparent,My empty, my me.Fill up your shell as much as you can,Who knows when poison will fill up a man.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247717118754394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247717118754394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247717118754394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247717118754394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/07/surgeon-generals-warning.html' title='Surgeon General’s Warning'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247679040079196</id><published>2004-07-20T16:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:53:42.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversely Silent</title><summary type='text'>Always garrulous,Never too silent,Mostly superfluous,You rarely relent.We need to discuss Where we both stand.Why don’t you trustMe as your man?A serious exchange, Apparently too hard,You view it as strange,Always on guard.I try to speak,Ingrain in your head,The satisfaction I seek:Just hear all that I said.Baby, my love, please tell me all,If/when you’re ready, give me a call.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247679040079196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247679040079196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247679040079196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247679040079196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/07/conversely-silent.html' title='Conversely Silent'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247705032480792</id><published>2004-07-09T16:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:46:20.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No Comparison</title><summary type='text'>Compare rose to petal,Or a bow to its lace?Necklace to its metal, Or a watch to its face?I try to find another,One as good as you,Reject the other lover,A comparison won’t do.Being from you away,Leaving you behind,Darkens up my day,And clutters up my mind.You don’t grow on trees,Neither does my time,For once girl on my knees,Please, I ask, be mine.Once you get that shot, very, very rare,Christ </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247705032480792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247705032480792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247705032480792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247705032480792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/07/no-comparison.html' title='No Comparison'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247714760826341</id><published>2004-06-29T16:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:45:50.243-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowdonian Sonnet Format</title><summary type='text'>In a classical Shakespearean Sonnet, the form is 14 lines of 10 syllables (140 syllables total) each, with a rhyme scheme of ABAB CDCD EFEF GG (the end of the line is represented as a letter, and rhymes with the end of the line with the same letter.)   Some other poets have written sonnets with different forms, but Shakespeare’s is the most known and widely used.  I have invented my own form for </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247714760826341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247714760826341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247714760826341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247714760826341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/06/snowdonian-sonnet-format.html' title='Snowdonian Sonnet Format'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247929504395235</id><published>2004-05-07T16:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:39:31.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Salman Rushdie’s End Run</title><summary type='text'>James R. SnoddyENGL399Dr. BerlinFinal PaperThe author of The Satanic Verses, a text written, edited, and published against Islam, against the Prophet of Islam, and against the Koran, along with all the editors and publishers aware of its contents, are condemned to capital punishment. I call on all valiant Muslims wherever they may be in the world to execute this sentence without delay, so that no</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247929504395235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247929504395235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247929504395235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247929504395235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/05/salman-rushdies-end-run.html' title='Salman Rushdie’s End Run'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247785666198742</id><published>2004-04-22T16:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:46:41.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Earl of Rochester</title><summary type='text'>James R. SnoddyENGL311Dr. OlmertThe Earl of Rochester                                                                                      “A Rake and His Leaves” John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, was one of the most fun literary characters/real people I have ever read about in English class.  His dirty poems and dirtier lifestyle make me think of a Restoration John Belushi or Steven Lynch , </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247785666198742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247785666198742' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247785666198742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247785666198742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/04/earl-of-rochester.html' title='The Earl of Rochester'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248179012754561</id><published>2004-04-16T17:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T12:14:26.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rhetoric Rise</title><summary type='text'>Scholes, Robert.  Rhetorical Review: The Rise and Fall of English: Reconstructing  English as a Discipline.  Reviewed by: Enos, Richard.  Tucson: Rhetorical Review. 2000. Scholes is contending that for the past fifty years “English has…been synonymous with various approaches to the study of…literature exclusively” (Scholes 337.)  He sees this as something that has taken the discipline out of the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248179012754561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248179012754561' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248179012754561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248179012754561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/04/rhetoric-rise.html' title='Rhetoric Rise'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248171450535347</id><published>2004-04-15T17:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T19:18:05.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exemplification/Truncation</title><summary type='text'>James R. SnoddyENGL487Dr. FahnestockIllus. of a language device Reagan’s use of exemplification during his “Remarks at the Brandenburg Gate” was key in driving home his main point, American ideals are good, and should be spread by everyone to every corner of the earth.  What caused Europe (Western, mind you) to become the economic powerhouse during the 1980’s?  It was the foresight of the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248171450535347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248171450535347' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248171450535347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248171450535347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/04/exemplificationtruncation.html' title='Exemplification/Truncation'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247868798499475</id><published>2004-03-20T16:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T07:52:31.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>“The Disabled Debauchee”</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyENGL311Dr. OlmertMLA Bibliography  Donaldson’s argument over Wilmots “The Disabled Debauchee” is to take it as you see it.  Do not imply meanings in straightforward writing when there are none.  This poem was written as a warning, testimonial, and as a humorous piece.  Rochester’s lifestyle was very similar to the Debauchee’s, with the exception (as far as I know) of the 10th stanza: </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247868798499475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247868798499475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247868798499475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247868798499475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/03/disabled-debauchee.html' title='“The Disabled Debauchee”'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248185722744921</id><published>2004-03-18T17:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T16:45:29.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Framework of Argumentation</title><summary type='text'>I.  The Epidictic GenreA. Epidictic speeches (display pieces) were unlike political and legal debates.  There were not opponents trying to sway an audience to a way of thinking.1. Sometimes, the speeches were not even given orally, but were passed around on paper.2. The speeches were on uncontroversial/old issues.  For some reason, they were well attended.3. The attendance is what drove the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248185722744921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248185722744921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248185722744921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248185722744921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/03/framework-of-argumentation.html' title='The Framework of Argumentation'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247905549096866</id><published>2004-03-10T16:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:43:03.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'>King Henry IV, Part I</title><summary type='text'>James R. SnoddyENGL 305Dr. OlmertKing Henry IV, Part I I went to the Shakespeare Theatre on March 10, 2004 to get in under the wire before the company closed down shop on Henry IV.  I had never seen Shakespeare at the theatre before, so I didn’t know what to expect.  Here’s what happened: it’s a hell of a lot easier to understand Shakespeare when you see it live than when you read it in black and</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247905549096866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247905549096866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247905549096866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247905549096866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/03/king-henry-iv-part-i.html' title='King Henry IV, Part I'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247884383820425</id><published>2004-03-10T16:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T05:45:31.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stephen Decatur House, Lafayette Square, Washington DC</title><summary type='text'>James R. SnoddyENGL311Dr. OlmertStephen Decatur House  When I worked at the White House I must have passed the Decatur House everyday for five months never noticed it until this class.  Most of the other houses on Jackson Place are similar looking, but none are as old or original examples of the Federal style of architecture.  My friend Jimmy and I took the Metro to Farragut West and walked down </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247884383820425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247884383820425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247884383820425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247884383820425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/03/stephen-decatur-house-lafayette-square.html' title='Stephen Decatur House, Lafayette Square, Washington DC'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247804482227066</id><published>2004-03-01T16:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T18:38:07.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Insouciance</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyENGL311Dr. Olmert I first became aware of the word ‘insouciance’ when I was reading a movie review of “Love Actually.”  The word was used in reference to the lead male, Hugh Grant.  He was described as an irreverent rake/rogue/playboy, who was delightfully insouciant about pretty much everything.  This word stuck in my head, because: I knew what all the other words meant, and I wanted</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247804482227066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247804482227066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247804482227066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247804482227066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/03/insouciance.html' title='Insouciance'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247843058753621</id><published>2004-02-22T16:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T01:03:20.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Second Earl of Rochester (1647-1680)</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyENGL311Dr. Olmert Hoping to get a head start on my final semester of college I purchased most of my textbooks over winter break, and, since I am unemployed, I read most of them as well.  My favorite was "The Libertine," by Stephen Jeffreys.  I wish that I had not read it before writing about his real biography as listed in "The Dictionary of National Biography."  It is difficult to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247843058753621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247843058753621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247843058753621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247843058753621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/02/second-earl-of-rochester-1647-1680.html' title='The Second Earl of Rochester (1647-1680)'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248163351178778</id><published>2004-02-20T17:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T13:12:19.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brandenburg Gate Remarks</title><summary type='text'>James R. Snoddy        20FEB04ENGL487 President Ronald Reagan gave Remarks at the Brandenburg Gate on June 12, 1987.  Before reviewing what was said, the non-verbal matters must be mentioned.  The Kairos that was available to Reagan was used very well.  He gave his speech to a proud people on the 750th anniversary of their city.  The setting was an emotional one, since it was held on the symbol </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248163351178778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248163351178778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248163351178778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248163351178778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/02/brandenburg-gate-remarks.html' title='Brandenburg Gate Remarks'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247958280697236</id><published>2004-02-19T17:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T17:25:26.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Illustration of a comparative evaluation, Fire vs. Water</title><summary type='text'>James Snoddy        Dr. FahnestockENG487 RhetoricWater is better than fire, because human beings need it to live.  It composes almost ¾’s of our bodies, likewise the surface of the Earth.  In its natural state it cannot burn you, run rampant in a forest, or destroy your home.  It is the blood of our planet, circulating in our streams, lakes, rivers, oceans, and air.  It comes from the sky and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247958280697236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247958280697236' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247958280697236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247958280697236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/02/illustration-of-comparative-evaluation.html' title='Illustration of a comparative evaluation, Fire vs. Water'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247859285159160</id><published>2004-02-14T16:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:44:26.876-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Notes &amp; Queries" is a Piece of Crap</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyENGL311Dr. Olmert          In "Notes and Queries" [Vol. 4, 4th S. (86) Aug 21 1869], there were very few things of interest.  One question is "Are there any immediate descendants of Sir Francis Drake still alive?"  The answer, according to "Notes and Queries" is no.  Apparently he died childless.  What makes this funny is that my grandfather always told his grandchildren that we were </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247859285159160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247859285159160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247859285159160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247859285159160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/02/notes-queries-is-piece-of-crap.html' title='&quot;Notes &amp; Queries&quot; is a Piece of Crap'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247817270352250</id><published>2004-02-13T16:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T15:43:15.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alls Well That Ends Well</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyENGL311Dr. Olmert I have never read nor seen “Alls Well That Ends Well,” but I am writing about it nonetheless.  In my search at McKeldin Library for a Times Literary Supplement that contained a review of a Shakespearean play, this was all that I could dig up in the six volumes of the TLS that were there.   I thought that I may be able to write about it if I read the Sparknotes </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247817270352250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247817270352250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247817270352250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247817270352250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/02/alls-well-that-ends-well.html' title='Alls Well That Ends Well'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247828294082772</id><published>2004-01-31T16:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T23:27:06.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Favorite Quotes From Class</title><summary type='text'>James R. SnoddyDr. Olmert1. “Vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati.”2. “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.”3. “The bell tolls for thee.”4. “At the round earth’s imagined corners.”5. “Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.”6. “Lucy’s, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks.”7. “For God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love.”8. “I have</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247828294082772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247828294082772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247828294082772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247828294082772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2004/01/10-favorite-quotes-from-class.html' title='10 Favorite Quotes From Class'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111249176356467130</id><published>2003-12-01T20:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T17:16:23.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anti-Semitism and Geoffrey Chaucer</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyDr. BarryENGL31001DEC03 Geoffrey Chaucer is often accused of Anti-Semitism because of his Prioress Tale, a chapter of the Canterbury Tales.  Since I was not able to ask Chaucer himself if he was an anti-Semite, I cannot be totally convinced of his views either way.  However, several inferences may be made by examining texts, journals, criticisms, and prevailing attitudes of Chaucer’s </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111249176356467130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111249176356467130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111249176356467130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111249176356467130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2003/12/anti-semitism-and-geoffrey-chaucer.html' title='Anti-Semitism and Geoffrey Chaucer'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248249953976052</id><published>2003-04-13T17:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T21:00:06.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Faulkner's 'As I Lay Dying' from the perspective of Jewel</title><summary type='text'>James Snoddy        13APR03As I Lay Dying       Dr. Auerbach He’s Got His Reasons Jewel (Darl, 16-20) I comes around the corner and sees Darl and Anse and Baron Vernon without moving my eyes to their direction.  “You ready?” I says to Darl.   “If you’re hitched up,” he says to me, “Wait.”  Viscount Vernon arrogantly spits as only someone who feels innately superior to those around him can, while </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248249953976052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248249953976052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248249953976052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248249953976052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2003/04/faulkners-as-i-lay-dying-from.html' title='Faulkner&apos;s &apos;As I Lay Dying&apos; from the perspective of Jewel'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248231867438062</id><published>2003-04-09T17:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T11:45:17.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Joie de Vivre</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyProfessor Kleine English 379BNovember 9, 2003         Losing your childish innocence (joy of life, youthful exuberance etc.) can be an arduous process.  It may strike at any time, without warning, and can incapacitate you.  The works that we have read in this class have shown how children lose their youthful exuberance and become sober adults.  Sometimes, a child will make it to the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248231867438062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248231867438062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248231867438062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248231867438062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2003/04/joie-de-vivre.html' title='Joie de Vivre'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248204522257352</id><published>2003-04-02T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T10:19:36.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The National Museum of Women in the Arts</title><summary type='text'>James Snoddy        Outside EventENGL348        Reaction Paper I went to the National Museum of Women in the Arts to view art done by females from the 16th Century to the present.  Since I waited so long to do to my outside event, I was tempted to look on the NMWA website and “react” to it for two pages.  I am quite pleased that I did not do that.  The NMWA is comprised of six elegantly furnished</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248204522257352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248204522257352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248204522257352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248204522257352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2003/04/national-museum-of-women-in-arts.html' title='The National Museum of Women in the Arts'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248262331485760</id><published>2003-02-27T17:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T14:35:55.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chivalry isn't dead</title><summary type='text'>ENG433       Dr. Van Egmond 27FEB03  The historical, pre-civil war and antebellum southern United States was a peculiar and backwards society.  The “ostrich syndrome” that ran rampant for so-called reasons of propriety caused many misunderstandings and problems that were compounded by the fact that since they were not acknowledged, a reasonable solution could not be formulated to deal with them.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248262331485760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248262331485760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248262331485760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248262331485760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2003/02/chivalry-isnt-dead.html' title='Chivalry isn&apos;t dead'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111248293071671838</id><published>2002-12-10T18:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T01:47:46.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>“He Was Killed Because He Assaulted a Cop.”</title><summary type='text'>James Snoddy          10DEC02CMLT214 Paper #4 The riot scene in Do the Right Thing is a montage of colors, elementals, persuasive dialogue and enough symbolism to make James Joyce jealous.  When Radio Raheem walks into Sal’s Pizzeria with Buggin’ Out, the audience knows that there is going to be a fight.  The body language of the two men add to the dramatic irony, as does the fact that Raheem’s </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111248293071671838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111248293071671838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248293071671838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111248293071671838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2002/12/he-was-killed-because-he-assaulted-cop.html' title='“He Was Killed Because He Assaulted a Cop.”'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111247734459220799</id><published>2001-10-29T16:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T20:07:04.143-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Any Stranger in the Rain</title><summary type='text'>I walk down the sunlit avenue, noticing the damp smell of rain.Passing the live oaks,I wonder when I'll be excited.Then I notice.An enticing stranger.As it turns out, It was you.Beautiful young woman, Gleaming believing screaming eyes.The smell deepens, Rain starts to fall, hard.Do I dare,To do what I want?Ask a silly question, get a stupid answer.Of course I do,Because if I dare not, then I have</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111247734459220799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111247734459220799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247734459220799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111247734459220799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2001/10/any-stranger-in-rain.html' title='Any Stranger in the Rain'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111249344665378923</id><published>2000-10-10T20:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T13:30:19.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Frankenstein 10/20/2000</title><summary type='text'>If a man can create life, then he must be responsible enough to nurture his creation, and teach it the ways of humans in order for it to survive.  In the novel Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, a monster is created by a man.  The novel describes in detail the horrors of Dr. Frankenstein because of his creation, and his abandonment of it.  It is a warning to others not to play God.  Dr. Frankenstein </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111249344665378923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111249344665378923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111249344665378923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111249344665378923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2000/10/frankenstein-10202000.html' title='Frankenstein 10/20/2000'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11880180.post-111249278812702067</id><published>2000-04-25T20:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T00:38:40.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Consumer Fraud 4/25/2000</title><summary type='text'>James SnoddyCora P. Maloney Community Service InternshipMr. Curtis Hamm My Internship was at the New York State Office of the Attorney General, Bureau of Consumer Frauds and Protection.  It is located at 107 Delaware Avenue, Statler Towers, Fourth Floor in Buffalo.  Approximately forty people work in the Attorney General’s Office.  Sixteen of those work in the Consumer Frauds Bureau.  The mission</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/feeds/111249278812702067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11880180&amp;postID=111249278812702067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111249278812702067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11880180/posts/default/111249278812702067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://povaultrr.blogspot.com/2000/04/consumer-fraud-4252000.html' title='Consumer Fraud 4/25/2000'/><author><name>James</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
