Realism

"A story of an hour"


This story was very detailed when Louise was up stairs looking out the window. She took the time to think about her life and how long and joyious it would be to live for herself.


"She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome." She stared off into the sky while pondering of the life ahead.





I think that the social issue here was that married woman feel that they do not have time for themselves and they feel that they are not living life fully for themselves and this particular time period. I think that the Arthur was really trying to grab husbands attention with this story.


"Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long."





"The battle with Mr. Covey"


This story also had many details about how Freddrick was treated wrong."He came to the spot, and after looking at me awhile, asked me what was the matter. I told him as well as I could, for I scarce had strength to speak. He then gave me a savage kick in the side, and told me to get up."


He had been through woods briers and bushes with a huge wound on his head from a big blow from Mr. Covey but yet his master still had him go back with the assurance that Mr. Covey was a good man and had no intetion of killing him with no doubt in mind that he would. He was broken into a slave with only one day of Leisure time on a Sunday which he spent sleeping under a tree like a brute.





The way I seen the social point of this story was that slavery is bad, and should not be permitted. "Master Thomas ridiculed the idea that there was any danger of Mr. Covey's killing me" I seen that slaves wont take too much for too long also in the story."But whilst thus engaged, whilst in the act of throwing down some blades from the loft, Mr. Covey entered the stable with a long rope; and just as I was half way out of the loft, he caught hold of my legs, and was about tying me. As soon as I found what he was up to, I gave a sudden spring, and as I did so, he holding to my legs, I was brought sprawling on the stable floor. Mr. Covey seemed now to think he had me," this was a good story for some reason i really got into it.



To me realism is something that is very important in life in order to know what is going on. I have my own example of realism which is some lyrics from Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five these lyrics come from a song called the message which was around when Hip Hop first started and talked alot about what was going on the hoods they were coming which is still done today.



The Message


Broken glass everywherePeople pissing on the stairs, you know they justDont careI cant take the smell, I cant take the noiseGot no money to move out, I guess I got no choiceRats in the front room, roaches in the backJunkies in the alley with a baseball batI tried to get away, but I couldnt get farCause the man with the tow-truck repossessed my car

Chorus:
Dont push me, cause Im close to the edgeIm trying not to loose my headIts like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonderHow I keep from going under

Standing on the front stoop, hangin out the windowWatching all the cars go by, roaring as the breezesBlowCrazy lady, livin in a bagEating out of garbage piles, used to be a fag-hagSearch and test a tango, skips the life and then goTo search a prince to see the last of sensesDown at the peepshow, watching all the creepsSo she can tell the stories to the girls back homeShe went to the city and got so so so dittyShe had to get a pimp, she couldnt make it on herOwn

Chorus:Its like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonderHow I keep from goin under

My brothers doing fast on my mothers t.v.Says she watches to much, is just not healthyAll my children in the daytime, dallas at nightCant even see the game or the sugar ray fightBill collectors they ring my phoneAnd scare my wife when Im not homeGot a bum education, double-digit inflationCant take the train to the job, theres a strikeAt the stationMe on king kong standin on my backCant stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliacMidrange, migraine, cancered membraneSometimes I think Im going insane, I swear I mightHijack a plane!

My son said daddy I dont wanna go to school Cause the teachers
a jerk, he must think Im aFoolAnd all the kids smoke reefer, I think itd beCheaperIf I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeperI dance to the beat, shuffle my feetWear a shirt and tie and run with the creepsCause its all about money, aint a damn thingFunnyYou got to have a con in this land of milk andHoneyThey push that girl in front of a train Took her to a doctor, sowed the arm on againStabbed that man, right in his heartGave him a transplant before a brand new startI cant walk through the park, cause its crazyAfter the darkKeep my hand on the gun, cause they got me on the RunI feel like an outlaw, broke my last fast jawHear them say you want some more, livin on a Seesaw


A child was born, with no state of mindBlind to the ways of mankindGod is smiling on you but hes frowning tooCause only God knows what you go throughYou grow in the ghetto, living second rateAnd your eyes will sing a song of deep hateThe places you play and where you stayLooks like one great big alley wayYoull admire all the number book takersThugs, pimps, pushers and the big money makersDriving big cars, spending twenties and tensAnd you wanna grow up to be just like themSmugglers, scrambles, burglars, gamblersPickpockets, peddlers and even pan-handlersYou say Im cool, Im no foolBut then you wind up dropping out of high schoolNow youre unemployed, all null n voidWalking around like youre pretty boy floydTurned stickup kid, look what you done didGot send up for a eight year bidNow your man is took and youre a may tagSpend the next two years as an undercover fagBeing used and abused, and served like hellTill one day you was find hung dead in a cellIt was plain to see that your life was lostYou was cold and your body swung back and forthBut now your eyes sing the sad sad songOf how you lived so fast and died so young