The Raven
While doing research into the works of Edgar Allen Poe, I came across an incredible find. A rare, hand written early manuscript, dated 1844 of "The Raven." It seems to be his thoughts while proof reading The Raven. the actual lines of the poem are in bold, while his thoughts are in italics.
The rest of the page is covered in sketches. Some appear to be scenes from earlier works "The Pit and the Pendulum", "The Tell-Tale Heart", and "The Murders in the Rue Morgue", while the rest of the manuscript is covered wit sketches of nude women, some performing acts not suitable for description in a family publication.
The circumstances under which these thoughts were written are unknown. Perhaps they were written in his dieing days, when he suffered from halucinations and mental instability. Perhaps he had been high on Cocaine, which we now know is not the energizing substance they thought it was then. Whatever the case, it remains an interesting look into the mind of one of America's greatest authors.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.
I pondered "what the hell am I writting? Who speaks in such a way?
Once upon a midnight dreary? What does that even mean?
And who ponders anymore? No one, that is who.
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
That makes no sense what so ever. What are Quaint and Curious volumes of lore?
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
That's rather repetative. I'll have to remove some of this "ppings" before sending this to be published.
" 'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
I could have sworn I wrote this in July, not December.
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Hmm. I may have to rewrite this line. otherwise it may be viewed as encouraging people to start fires on their floors.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;
What the bloody hell is the Marrow?
— vainly I had tried to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow
That makes even less sense then "Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,"
— sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.
Finally I figured it out! I must have been inebriated when I wrote this. How else could Lenore be described as a beauty? While at West Point I saw horse dropping that were more attractive then her.
I must remember never again to drink before writing, for it results in senseless trip such as this. Perhaps I shall try using Cocaine. I have heard that it is believed to have reinvigorating properties that may be of use to me when writing late at night.
The rest of the page is covered in sketches. Some appear to be scenes from earlier works "The Pit and the Pendulum", "The Tell-Tale Heart", and "The Murders in the Rue Morgue", while the rest of the manuscript is covered wit sketches of nude women, some performing acts not suitable for description in a family publication.
The circumstances under which these thoughts were written are unknown. Perhaps they were written in his dieing days, when he suffered from halucinations and mental instability. Perhaps he had been high on Cocaine, which we now know is not the energizing substance they thought it was then. Whatever the case, it remains an interesting look into the mind of one of America's greatest authors.
Labels: Stupid stuff
posted by R.C. at
7:49 PM
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