Improv Week 10

This is a rewrite of my Improv of "I am 21".

I plopped the half empty Tri Beta mug back in the coffee stained ring on my desk. I can feel the hair rising on the back of my neck, she’s watching me again.

“It’s hot chocolate.”

The click of her pin as she turns back to her 3^rd grade crosswords lets me know she believed the lie. She’s been trying to find the word “parking” for twenty minutes now, her feet propped up on the desk the way my father does in his office when he’s talking to “the little people”. I down the last gulp of my coffee, straining the perfect blend of dark roast, two sugars, and hazelnut creamer between my teeth. Why is she this calm anyways? Its finals week, isn’t it? Oh yeah she’s one of those unworried, underworked, undeclared majors. No direction that their issue. . . her issue.

The light from the computer is burning my eyes, tears starting to well up in the corners.

“Tears are secretions that lubricate and cleanse the eyes of foreign objects. Powerpoint 4 slide 5.”

The cup is empty again, coffee or chocolate. I instantly reach for the coffee packet then freeze when I hear the pen click. I’ll actually make chocolate this time.

Free Entry Week 10

This is a rewrite of the poem I wrote earlier in the semester.

My mother's image

I am the image of my mother.

A woman who’s wrists chafe

from the chains

of those before her.

A woman who’s eyes sting

from the remnants of

pepper spray and tears.

A woman who’s bible

served as her eye wash station,

and its words pulling

together her split heart.

I am my mother’s image.

Reading Response Week 10

This is in response to Waking Life by Dionne Irving. Upon first reading this book I was captivated by the piece’s ability to convey so much in only 28 pages. I was baffled that something as simple as a chap book could weave a story more complex that other books that are substantially longer in length. Another aspect of the piece that intrigued me was that the narrator herself was a writer as well. This put me in the mind of the ars poetica of sorts except with fiction. It made me wonder if the author simply researched the places found within the story or did she actually visit these places before. Also the use of dialogue in this book helped me see the way dialogue should be used. Every line of dialogue used in the book was completely necessary and served multiple purposes. Not only did it show the emotional state of the character at the time, it also revealed the personality of the one who spoke it. Finally I like the way the mother was seen in two different lights. How the narrator addressed the normal perception of a mother and then showed the true nature of her own mother. This dualism when it came to the mother’s personality was what I enjoyed most about the piece.

Calisthenic Week 10

This is what I came up with during the in class calisthenic on character development. I feel that my focus strayed from describing the character and turned into a story.

Onyx

You stand there imaging the scent if she slipped over the balcony. The way the red would melt into the pavement. Your arms clasped behind you, frozen at the wrist like a minor being arrested for the first time. Your eyes darting back and forth the hair on your neck smoothing out as you lock the scene away, the darkness of it a cancer on your heart. Her eyes lock with yours, and you’re trapped. You cringe at the tug on your scarf as she pulls you closer. I can almost hear you wishing to be somewhere other than there on the balcony with her. A mockingbird calls to you from the tree inches away from where you stand. You attempt to focus on it rather than her empathetic, eager eyes. But you can’t break the spell, your body is frozen, telling you to admit defeat. Her hazel orbs burn into you, your senses overwhelmed by the smell of snickerdoodle cookie dough. She leans toward you like Michael Jackson when he performed bad. Run away. You do, now she’s just another memory locked in the piece of onyx in your chest.

Classmate Response Week 10, Response 2

This is in response to Taylor’s junkyard quote: “Hunting should be when you sit up in a tree for three days and you cover yourself in deer piss”. For lack of a better way to say it this quote resonates with me since I know hunters who are just like this. When reading this piece it put me in the mindset of the calisthenic we executed in class. What if you began a character development piece by starting with this deer piss covered hunter then used the outline of sentences to develop his character. I would be intrigued to know where the piece would go. Would it end up being about this “devoted” hunter or would it end up being more about your professor who uttered this line?

Classmate Response Week 10, Response 1

This is in response to Morgan’s Free entry. This piece upon first reading it reminded me of a spoken word piece. The way the lines are structured gives it the meter of a poem that should be performed. For me I feel that last two lines could be omitted. The piece would have added strength if it ended earlier. Like we’ve discussed in class it’s not important to tie up everything neatly at the end of a piece. While there is room to make some of the abstractions more concrete I feel that in this instance the abstractions give the poem a sense of magnitude.

Junkyard Quote 4, Week 10

'Why is it called 'after dark' when it really is 'after light'?"

-My friend on Facebook-

Junkyard Quote 3, Week 10

Wouldn't it be better to tell her and the timing be wrong than to never tell her at all?

-Castle last night-

Junkyard Quote 2, Week 10

"Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky and I thought to myself, where the heck is the ceiling."    -Friend on Facebook-

Junkyard Quote 1, Week 10

"I know a great word. Footset it means a set of foot."
-My friend while playing scrabble-

Reading Response Week 9

This is in response to Florida Lives by Dionne Irving. When I first read this piece the first thing that jumped out at me was some of her descriptions. For example on page 94 when she is describing the smell of the house as “like mold, was perfect”, I reread the sentence over and over. It reminded me of the calisthenic on unexpected language. This strategy of using unexpected and quirky language continues throughout the piece. Also I love the portion when she is making the list on the food she is describes as exotic. The second time I read it at a slower pace and I began to notice how she used the quirkiness to show the speakers true self. After all, what person calls meatloaf exotic? Throughout this piece I feel as if I were lost in the couple’s world, as if I were witnessing the antics of the Fletchers or belly-aching over the less than tasteful shirts of Crystal. While this is a longer piece compared to others we have read it reminds me of I am 21, in that every action of the characters and those around help to reveal another aspect of their nature and the way they think.

Free Entry Week 9

For this entry I simply sat at the top of the UCC and wrote what I saw, but tried to see it through the eyes of another character. I never stopped to think about what I was writing, I simply wrote until I felt like I should stop. When writing it I tried not to focus on what I was writing and if it included all the elements we discussed in class. This proved harder than I thought

Happiness in its purest form like the first time you taste ice cream, or the thrill of breaking your first bone. Those were the only words she could think of as she looked out across the lush green campus blanketed by a choking layer of pollen. From her roost at the top of the UCC all the students milling about the campus looked like little dust particles sweep up and carried by a non-existent breeze. She watched the thousands of cars pulling into and backing out of yellow lined parking spaces like honeybees lapping at flowers. Her face wrinkles into a smile as she watched the future X-Games BMX rider come to a very impressive wheelie halt as one of the thousand campus cats strutted into his path.

Calisthenic Week 9

This is based off the metaphor substitution exercise in the Writing Poetry book.

1.      His arms enveloped her like the ink stain from a broken pen.

2.      Smug by the fire of their despair.

3.      Wrapped in the buzz of her latest failure.

4.   Capturing the memory of his worst date.

Improv Week 9

For this Improv I wanted to try my hand at the “six word stories” that were mentioned in class.

I attempted to create stories that left numerous questions

1. Cold hands hold cold hands close.

2. Magic breasts the cure for headaches.

Classmate Response Week 9, Response 2

This is in response to Kay’s junkyard quote: “"So, it's okay to wear a sundress today? I don't want look like one of those girls who waited until the weather was warm so I could pull out my dress for my slut games." I really love this quote and I find that there is so much that can be done with it. The most obvious direction is of course describing these slut games. Are they what you would normally think of as slutty? Or are they perceived that way by others even though it’s everyday behavior. Also I’m curious as to why the sundress could appear slutty. Sundresses aren’t usually scandalous so it would be interesting to address why the speaker of such a quote would believe their dress to be this way.

Classmate Reponse Week 9, Response 1

This is in response to Brittany’s junkyard quote “A customer referred to being "Publix-sick" instead of homesick while she is in North Carolina.” I find this to be a very interesting use of language. First it’s simply very quirky language that you don’t hear often. Second it shows a something about the character that spoke it. Although many don’t realize it Publix is a regional store, so someone that has been there enough to miss it shows the types of things the person values. I would be intrigued to see a story or even a poem that uses this idea of someone being so homesick that the only thing they can think about is the Publix in their hometown.

Junkyard Quote 4, Week 9

The sun was gone…It was the time to hear things and talk. These sitters had been tongueless, earless, eyeless conveniences all day long. Mules and other brutes had occupied their skins.
-Their Eyes Were Watching God-

Junkyard Quote 3, Week 9

Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say "infinitely" when you mean "very"; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.
-C. S. Lewis-

Junkyard Quote 2, Week 9

How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes!
-Maya Angelou-

Junkyard Quote 1, Week 9

Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying. -Langston Hughes-

Free Entry Week 8

This is just a portion of a story I am currently working on. 

Sherron’s feet hit the pavement hard as she jumped over the towering brick wall. As she tore through the wood swallowed path, her eyes darted from side to side looking for her pursuer. The embers in her chest tore at her, begging her to stop. She sucked in the chilly November air, the life of which only adding to the flames.

“Don’t be like the girls in horror movies, don’t be like the girls in horror movies.” She continues to run, fear leaking from every pore.

Up ahead she saw the lights of the safehouse. A few more steps. . .

The burn of the blue lights hitting her eyes brought her up short. Her body screamed at the abrupt stop, her bones turning to ice and her lungs gulping for air like her goldfish when he jumped out of his Dixie cup and landed on a pair of scissors. She set her jaw and prepared herself for what was coming. The crunch of his feet as the size 12 combat boots scattered the gravel reminded her of stepping on the maggots spilling out of the trashcan in the kitchen.

“Maggots, nature’s rice krispies.” Her mom, Ira explained when she swept up the flattened critters.

A plume of smoke escaped his freezer burned lips as he spoke.

“Beat ya home.”

“No fair daddy. You have a car.”

Improv Week 8

I’m improving Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy” . . . sort of. It’s extremely rough.

Grandma

Grandma and I love to play

Who cares more,

Or is it who cares less?

It’s a simple game really.

She gives me a sideways smirk that

Passes for a smile.

In turn I give her a hug

Worthy of an Oscar nomination.

Her lips skin my forehead,

Leaving her pomegranate lipstick

A permanent stain.

My cheek presses against hers

Her wrinkles melting into my dimple.

In her head I’m still and egg

Locked in an ovarian jail.

In my head her smile is real.

Calisthenic Week 8

This is what I wrote based on our in class calisthenic.

My eyes flicker back up to the screen where a game of cat and mouse is being played. I’ve watched this show before, but now I can see that the constant circle of frying pans to the face and 200 feet falls off cliffs are wearing away at them. Every day at 2:30 for our sick amusement these barbarians of the pencil fight. Jerry simply trying to survive, and then there’s Tom begging for sympathy he doesn’t deserve.

Sympathy. Ha, no one in this world cares about sympathy. It’s treated like the sample of koolickles in the supermarket, everyone takes it whether they truly want it or not. But who deserves sympathy? I thought I knew once. I thought it was my friend Tom who grew up in a household where fathers hunched over Scotch bottles. But later I realized Tom didn’t deserve anything. He never told me about his kleptomania, or the violent rampages.

Classmate Response Week 8, Response 2

This is in response to Morgan’s junkyard quote "Good luck on your exams... You had better pray”. Upon first reading this I felt taken aback that a teacher would say this to their students. Then I begin to think how this line could be used in a story, and how it could be used to show the traits of character. What type of teacher would it be that would tell his students this? Why would he say this? What type of person is the professor outside of class? This quote could be the starting point of a very interesting story.

Reading Response Week 8

This is a response to Bigfoot Stole My Wife by Ron Carlson. When I first read this piece the only thing I could think is “is this guy a complete idiot”? All I could think was: does this guy truly believe that Bigfoot stole his wife or was it just a horribly concocted story to tell the neighbors. When he continued with the story of the experience him and his friend had when they were younger, I just assumed this man had a history of telling the unbelievable. However, this idea was completely turned on its head when we discussed the story in class. Once Dr. Davidson explained that the story of the trailer was considered true it added an entirely new view on this man. The character himself also intrigued me in how much one instance affected them. Also I then begin to enjoy the way this story showed another form of reversal just like “Returning Madame Bovary”. After the class discussion I also noticed my own tendency to tie stories together in a very obvious way rather than thinking outside of what is easily assumed. This is definitely a technique that I would like to rift off of Carlson.

Classmate Response Week 8, Response 1

This is in response to Taylor’s calisthenic. I really enjoy the language you used in this piece especially the line “the depression they sink into, like butter into batter”. Also the way you used the same type of descriptions but gave them different connotations in each part was a good use of language as well. Overall I enjoy how the piece starts off seemingly happy but then slowly sinks into a deeper meaning that shows the reversal. My only suggestion is to try making the moment that gives your character these feelings less direct. The story depicted is good however I feel the text would have more strength if the memory was indirectly related to cupcakes.

Junkyard Quote 4, Week 8

"Racism is exhausting" -Classmate in African American Lit. when discussing the affects of racism on individuals-