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From a Woman Who Wants to Be Objectified in the Ways She Wants to Be, and: Every Time It Rains, a Requiem

From a Woman Who Wants to Be Objectified in the Ways She Wants to Be, and: Every Time It Rains, a... Hannah Baker Saltmarsh From a Woman Who Wants to Be Objectified in the Ways She Wants to Be 1. How We Got Eyes When I talk to you in my head, Maestro, ask you to inhabit my editing voice, I know I’ve gone too far. Or use your granddaughter’s name to order co√ee, it’s all too much. But then so are you. Why do all your students want first dibs on cat-sitting rights while you’re abroad, annoyed to take turns in the apartment, with the cat Boo dipping a paw into the tub, then a touch on my soapy bare shoulder just the few days of my turn in it? I read one of your three book proposals Boo thinks she too has discovered, plowing her face against the page corners, intern shadowing in the Acquisitions Department. This book’s from another century almost, How We Got Eyes, on botanists who painted flora with the hairs of squirrel tails fanning out of a quill, dyes of tree gum, a poisonous, deep red forged of mercury combustions, or of smeared dead female insects for lighter shades. You write about botanists mixing colors in mussels, even painting six-hours straight in the fields, http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

From a Woman Who Wants to Be Objectified in the Ways She Wants to Be, and: Every Time It Rains, a Requiem

Prairie Schooner , Volume 93 (3) – Dec 21, 2019

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X

Abstract

Hannah Baker Saltmarsh From a Woman Who Wants to Be Objectified in the Ways She Wants to Be 1. How We Got Eyes When I talk to you in my head, Maestro, ask you to inhabit my editing voice, I know I’ve gone too far. Or use your granddaughter’s name to order co√ee, it’s all too much. But then so are you. Why do all your students want first dibs on cat-sitting rights while you’re abroad, annoyed to take turns in the apartment, with the cat Boo dipping a paw into the tub, then a touch on my soapy bare shoulder just the few days of my turn in it? I read one of your three book proposals Boo thinks she too has discovered, plowing her face against the page corners, intern shadowing in the Acquisitions Department. This book’s from another century almost, How We Got Eyes, on botanists who painted flora with the hairs of squirrel tails fanning out of a quill, dyes of tree gum, a poisonous, deep red forged of mercury combustions, or of smeared dead female insects for lighter shades. You write about botanists mixing colors in mussels, even painting six-hours straight in the fields,

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Dec 21, 2019

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