Interlochen February, Day 12: Yes, I Made Another Clockwork Orange Reference

DAY 12
February 13
Prompt: "Reciting Random Poetry Day."

Oh, the Poetry Stunt. It wasn't even my idea, it was Mishka's, but she didn't feel like doing it, so I decided to see if I could get people to do it with me. I don't remember who else agreed to it--I don't think it was very many of our circle of friends--but I remember that Isaac agreed to it. We even talked about it beforehand and decided on different approaches: he would stand in the middle of a crowded area and recite it to whoever happened to be standing there, while I would simply walk up to people, friends and strangers alike, and say it to them as intensely as possible--and then walk away.

I love doing this kind of thing, because it accomplishes two things: 1) It forces you to get over any insecurity you might have--if you can walk up to a random stranger and recite "Patterns," you know you've got serious guts. 2) It guarantees people will remember you. If someone gets up in your face, recites a poem or quote, and walks away, you're not going to forget that person anytime soon.

So, there's not much to tell. I walked around reciting (not singing, RECITING) random bits of RJA lyrics, the more intense the better. I got to push Harry against a wall, which was quite interesting, seeing as he seemed completely unaffected by it (most people I know would have at least shoved me away). There were a couple of people who looked like they were seriously considering calling Health Services, or maybe Campus Safety, on me. The common reaction was something along the lines of "What the hell just happened?"

But that was kind of the point, I suppose.

No, you know what? When I look back on it, the Dead Poets really was not about spreading chaos. We weren't Alex and his violent Droogs; we were just a merry band of so-called miscreants who had absolutely no rules and no inhibition. If we wanted to sit under the table, we would. If we wanted to wear sunglasses to community meetings, we would. If we wanted to play Hide-and-Seek or Loup-Garou in the Writing House, we would. There was no reason, no method to our alleged madness. And it wasn't really madness, anyway--it was about us. What we wanted to do, regardless of whether it was "normal" or not.

The Dead Poets of Interlochen were not about rebellion.

We were about honesty--staying true to ourselves.