The Beginnings of...Something

One of the topics of study for our American Literature class is Emily Dickinson, and in my brief research, I found an excellent selection form a first lines index for one of her collections, thus attracting my eye was:

adventure most unto itself

and for some reason was instantly fascinated. I mean, the journey that literature took: also riding on the boats with the Pioneers, traveling in physical and oral tradition with the Native Americans and being birthed alongside a nation of it's own; in conclusion, American Literature, specifically early work, endured a journey like no other literary tradition, and fell into many delicate hands of writers, poets and artists.

Wrestling with these ideas and the meaning of my close study of this literature, I present the whole of Dickinson's poem, with the intended spirit that our own journey down the road of academic pursuit, is very similar to that of our subject itself:

Part Five: The Single Hound I

ADVENTURE most unto itself
The Soul condemned to be;
Attended by a Single Hound—
Its own Identity. And on the lighter side, I present the seemingly collective guilty pleasure,

Party in the USA...

-Tony