To tell the truth, I had never heard of an "ethnography." I balked at this assignment. Go somewhere, somewhere populated by a certain prototype of people, and write about what they're thinking. This is difficult for someone whose one regret in life is that he isn't someone else. And so, after hours upon hours of sitting at my desk staring at a blank sheet of paper, drops of blood forming on my forehead, I left for my Thanksgiving break where I went to, of all places, Memphis, Tenn. The following "ethnography" is the result of that experience.
"You Can't Have a Cigarette in Elvis's Bedroom,"
Intertext: Vol. 3
, Article 4.
Available at: http://surface.syr.edu/intertext/vol3/iss1/4