The Great Gatsby: Where 21st Century Technology Meets the Jazz Age

Tom insisted I accompany him to New York City. On the way we stopped at Wilson’s garage, where Tom introduced me to his mistress, Myrtle. it is strange; Myrtle is everything Daisy is not. Daisy is refined, stylish, always suggestive of a coolness belonging to the privileged. Myrtle is thick, garish and always bordering on the ridiculous. Lacking any money of her own, Myrtle is entirely reliant on Tom for her luxuries. Yet, Myrtle maintains a pretense of having her own riches. It was a strange night. Despite Tom’s affair with the Mrs. Wilson, he apparently does love Daisy. The adulterers had a fight over Daisy, ending with Tom breaking his mistress’s nose … There was this very strange couple in attendance; the husband was a photographer …He got very drunk; so did I…

It occurs to me, that perhaps I ought to talk to Daisy about Tom. Although, I suppose it is not really my place to pass judgement on their marriage.

A while later I was invited to a Gatsby party. I ran into Jordan. There is something about her, this hard, compactness that not only describes how she looks, but it is as though her physical presence is an outer expression of who she is. I am inexplicably drawn to her; perhaps it that she is so careless, while I am cautious; she is dishonest, which I do not really mind in her, but I am forthright. I can not bring to the forefront of my mind why, or even what, about Jordan pulls me in. Well, I will continue to dwell on the matter.

I have not mentioned Gatsby. It was at this first party I met him-did not recognize him. He stole Jordan away for a bit; I wonder why. Gatsby is an interesting man. His guests spend their time at his party gossiping and guessing about him; I suspect they do not know him at all. I suppose no one ever really knows another person. Gatsby has this way about him, like a live model, always perfectly posed and composed. His words are almost scripted-so perfect and chosen they are. It is strange, no one appears to know much of him, yet he is so obviously concerned with the opinion of those same people. Paradox.

You will accomplish several things today:

1. You will give your blog a title.
2. You will write your first post in response to the events thus far.
3. You will link your groups pages to your site.
4. You will create an avatar that matches your character’s personality-something you believe represents who this character is.

You will perform these tasks in the order they are written. This does not mean rush through your post so you can google images. The first three steps are the most important; in particular the second step. Step four should only happen if time allows.

In your  posts, you will react to the events of the chapters we have read so far. Think about how your character speaks, how he/she reacts to others, what he/she wears, and who he/she really is. Remember, we are viewing the action from Nick’s point-of-view. Do you believe he is providing an accurate portrayal of the character? If not, then what is your character really like?

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Even after many years and having settled into the listless life of the Midwest, I still contemplate my life then; my life as a bondsman in New York; I suppose many men now look back on what was life when they were a bondsman, there are so few left. But for me it was not the profession I consider, I never really dedicated myself to the trade and I in today’s world I recognize my inability to dedication then has affected me greatly now.

So many decisions I did not make in my earlier years, and I was no young man at the time, but so resolute I was not to involve myself in an other’s affairs that I made lapses in judgment. Of course, then I think about him. Glittering gold, effervescent champagne, chandeliers that twinkle more than the night’s sky; effulgent women in gowns of gossamer and yet he did not hold the parties for vanity; the parties were all for her. A man held to his idealized self the way the ancients viewed their gods; when I tell his tale over and over, it becomes more mythological when I hear it echoing in my own ear. No mere mortal could be so faithful to such a dream; as if the love he wanted could really exist. Or perhaps that is my own cynicism seeping into his story; even if it is the hardness of my own life, nothing could sully his perfect view.

While the damage can never be undone, and I have my own sins to atone for, I am now a man capable of acknowledging the small part I played in the myth became that summer. I cannot fully separate the man I have become with the man I was then. I left Long Island defeated, the last bit of optimism in me remained in that green light with him. I returned to where I was from hoping to find what I lost. I resigned myself to the way life is, not the peak behind the curtain of a place I did not belong. I am not cruel; I am not vain; I once was honest and held in me a belief that I could be once again. I had mistaken honesty for judgement and that was my folly.