Archive for March, 2008

A grand adventure to nowhere

March 31, 2008

 

Hours of cushioned boredom

Sit wherever

            The airport is empty

Meander at will.  The staff are more clever.  Than I

Staying occupied, keeping amused

All that’s left for us two

Is Starbucks, which is closed.

            Wait.  I’m confused.  Coffee

It’s 3 and no coffee?

How to stay awake

How to bloody concentrate

            Ground control to major tom

The music is on, but there is nothing going on

Rows of closed

Please let me leave.  On a jetplane

There is so little time before I’ll be back again

I’m hungry

Empty, desolate

Circles in bolted chairs

Swirls in coffee and automated toilets

Enough of the circumference

Let me go. Leaving would be nice

I am not as prepared to stand by as I originally let on

All this advertising is worrying me

Stop the florescence, I’d prefer some natural light

This has been a pretty damn long night

Keep swimming

            Not into the dark, but up.  In flight

Reality suspended by fluorescence

Blue swimming comes happily ever after  

            To the sound of, finally

                        Four o’clock laughter.

Reading Response to Non-Fiction

March 21, 2008

Naomi Shihab Nye was my introduction of how to get there, how to write creative non-fiction itself.  I have a serious problem with tenses, I write in whatever tense I am experiencing the sentence in, Nye is kneading the time of her piece so that the reader rolls along the journey and immerses themselves in the first the remembrance of the past event, inking out a picture that becomes a rollercoaster that we take part in.  This stream of consciousness, commiserating with the reader in a humor I envy, engages first on a reflective level.  Providing context and what she is thinking, “Is he kidding?  I live in Texas” Nye evokes personal thought to connect. 

            The flow of the story oscillates its tone, increasing and decreasing its tension and pace.  The worry of direction communicated as a distance of separated personal distress, eased by movement and getting started.  The swing down to stories and the we of the experience softens and distresses the tone.  This lull makes missing an exit almost surreal, the reader is instead takes this more as a reason to learn something about the driver, to continue the story.  Giving the driver, another character, a voice allows something in outside of the self.  The driver becomes the we, and classifies Nye herself as ‘my friend’.  A voice provides an interest that exists within the story and outside of her experience, to achieve a human connection.  Her description is interlaced with his own that provides a kind of texture, a voice that is not hers seems to change the tone, the pronoun and herself.  No names or physical descriptions of the central characters are given, only voice and dialogue are used to construct this narrative, and it doesn’t need such unnecessary characterizations.   By translating their interaction into something with meaning, everything in the narrative becomes deeper and more relational, commenting on the immediate situation and the wider world in single sentences reflecting on how they got there, or within the dialogue, “you only learn by going”. 

 

Time eats its way through the exhaustive process of Australian travel, baggage dragging themselves around the baggage carousel and jostled continuously, to bring us to a rest at Aunt Ruth’s house.  Our family drives the upgraded sedan for a spell to our brick destination with requisite clothesline visible in the yard.  You finally made it!  Welcome back.  And so the unit is unloaded and arrived.  How was your trip?  The same.  Hellish, but worth it to be here, and see you.  You flattera (the ending pronounced with a soft ‘a’ as in cart)  Cousin Leslie laughs.  We grin.  All of us together.  Jump right in the lamingtons, we got them as an Aussie treat for the adventcha.  Happy hospitality is a sign of the geography.  Tea and biscuits are a staple, but the coconut flecked chocolate covered sponge cake surprise is an indication of together having a deep bond and mutual understanding.  A little gesture always shows something.  We have a knowledge of love and shared past, our Australian sentiment of bonded family that can only be further solidified by a communion over the backyard barbie (properly now pronounced neglecting the ‘r’).  Bring out the lamb will ya?  Barbie’s already fired up and the steaks cookin’. 

Unit 2 review

March 21, 2008

Unit 2 Creative Non-Fiction

 

Creative non-fiction was a more productive unit for me.  My intermittent blogging made it seem that I wasn’t functioning or absorbing as much as I was.  Each exercise I approached as an experience of its own, not having let myself just write before, my style just plopped onto the page, and it was something I could work with.  I love writing, I always wanted to do it but until this breakdown of physically putting pen to paper, I had done my work for class and let it lie.  Except for when I argue out loud with the books I read, and now I’m critiquing the simplistic style of my cherished fantasy novel and have, for the first time in my life, picked up Barbara Kingsolver (waaay racier than I thought).

 

I like it now when I write something short in my journal.  It lets me get my thoughts out, and I can see where I have changed my mind to make it better.  And then typing it; whoa.  I always have to change it, and this portfolio finally gives me a chance to see how I altered my thought, editing is not my favorite past-time but the difference is huge.  My favorite time, writing at Barbara’s house (yes, Barbara I love you, your house, your fireplace, and especially your animals, even if you have to verbally slap me to post my long piece on the blog) is an example of the insane amount I have learned in an itty bitty span of time.  In this instance, in writing about a cat, a marble and a schoolteacher sometimes, sometimes she really just wanted to slap some sense… into them, I learned how to braid an essay, which I found out I love, and how conscious I am now of the sound of words and the impact of punctuation.  When writing it, I was aware that saying sometimes twice would communicate a feeling I wanted to come across, that playing with cat and mat was funny, and that using words as a variation on a theme in a very brief space heighten the tension, i.e. consequences, impact, impulse, temptation, and backlash all in two sentences (major feelings there).  Then I wanted to let the world know how much I appreciated this chance to write such silliness, so I typed it for my blog, which everyone should of course read and check periodically.  And that has made all the difference.  Changing restore the planets and priorities in alignment to restore the planets and priorities to their proper alignment was a difference that could only be made by thinking and editing it over again.  Alliteration and word choice being employed creatively and because I thought it would make the piece more interesting also became part of my process, my moral source in became my moral model of, brilliant.  And now I know.

 

I had some rough patches over this unit too.  It is hard to communicate via blog how much I think and care about this course even though it seems that I add pieces on the blog as more of an afterthought than deliberately.  I didn’t initially because I didn’t think the mini things I wrote were worth it.  I didn’t comment on others because in my twisted head I told them what needed to be said in workshop, and was doing a zillion (no joke) other things, obligations, homeworks (given by Barbara.  And others).  Other things I didn’t write down.  Really I should just break down and carry the journal in my hand, because it is in my backpack at all times, but I only seem to write/tape stuff in it at night.  I even tried my hand at a misplaced sonnet, where I messed up the rhyme scheme and wrote about NOT having a lover of some kind.  Petrarch and Shakespeare’s lady lovers they were addressing were probably imaginary, I just made mine male, patently obvious, and abba cddc eeff.  A little odd, but then, I was trying my hand at poetry, and such things are allowed.  I am expressing myself in whichever way I think is right.  I also need to give myself more time to process what I read.  I read peoples blogs, but too soon before I have to tell them what I think of it.  I do the reading, but because of other obligations, I don’t read it slowly enough to fully absorb what I want to find of their style as a writer.  That I will get a chance to rework a writing piece into a longer, blog edited piece of myself is what I want and need to take that next step.  And break, spring break is the chance to breathe, stare unabashedly at strangers, and make little notes in a black book to disconcert them.  Maybe this time when I give myself  chance to inhale, without forcing myself, I will ponder through writing something down.  A leisurely thought that can be construed in anyway, and because I AM a writer, I will make a note of it, just because.

audio to stranger study

March 20, 2008

this is it!

When ninja met sarah

March 20, 2008

They walked away without saying a word.  Sarah had dropped everything and left.  Seawater eyes overflowing for a past person who had found a new person.  Briny eyes washed clearer.   David knew that all this playing at the martial arts and revenge was only masking something else he was looking for.  Getting caught by the police was only a symptom that his heart wasn’t in it.  Someone as dark and brooding as him doesn’t get caught.  So he, too, left.  Without uttering a word.

They left for Belgium, independently. He recognized her at once.  Searching for someone who knew the sewer dark void.  The website offered up her knowledge of pain and awareness.  To structure oneself in a new way required breaking everything down and finally finding new strength to rebuild.  This was a person to which he finally felt humbled enough to know, to enter into her plan to make him less empty.

The sky was stained crimson, at night.  So things theoretically could bode well for the adrift itinerant sailor when he finally met seawater eyes.

What do you mean you tried?  Why do you say you are starting from the beginning if your stay hidden like this?  her frustration was punctuated with her accent that exoticfied her mystery and clipped her words.   Stop dwelling in the depressed recesses of your harbored hurt and find some light to look for.  You haven’t moved forward.  I felt the tension in your back during the last thai massage!  And look at this color palate you have given me to work with!  Black, ebony, dark brown, off black, and bright red.  Emotions don’t have to be so stark!  Her empathy connected and resounded in his cornered presence, her own story overlaying his own.

This is going to be a kind of protection for you, a bastion against the world if you let me in.

I don’t need anyone to protect me from the dark world.  I can see it quite plainly thank you he said.  I was a ninja..  A tall, dark, masked but inevitably handsome, brooding vengeful ninja.

right.  and now you want to change.  Her little dog started barking at this further evidence of ridiculousness.  And because it wanted to pee on the dank cobblestone streets of Belgium.  To relish the outdoors and new smells that life had to offer.

to have and to hold

March 20, 2008

Raining you say?  Work got you down?  Or is it that you need to be comforted because you had too much for dinner? The black warmth can love you, the cashmere will envelop.  If one needs a silent listening friend, it will be there to hold you.  It is the barely distinguishable cable knit worked into the slightly large dimensions of the sweater that make my comfort so true.  The conversations we’ve had over the years make the outside a little fuzzy looking, but the sweater is still there for when I need it, when I want someone to understand and hug me in the softest way possible.

250 word stranger

March 20, 2008

If you work all day, everyday, in a position that not graduating from high school is of no consequence, how do you keep things interesting?  A slovenly stupor is a possibility that some do embrace, yes.  Others go for spiting service to make everyone’s day that much more meanly slow.  She varies her routine, but busy and intentionally taking her time as she sees fit exercises control and prowess.  No one around?  Well then, the college provided free newspapers, and one should have something sensational to read, like the Boston Globe.  But now that the front section is exhausted, and she had to get up once more to cheerily press to buttons on the register, why not present the queen of the coffee counter?  Speed, flexibility and savvy.  Fixing the spluttering espresso machine and lubing up the milk pitcher for the next person to come into the pit stop.  Blue shirt, black pants of official business, she strikes up a conversation, hand on the counter, with the college paper racer, also dressed for heady library atmosphere, this time in the industry standard; sweatpants.  Oh there is a line forming now that the calm has broken?  That’s funny, ‘cause the conversation on the weather isn’t quite finished.  You should have thought of coming up 30 seconds ago when she was free.  But her hands are busy, because she is the best, and thoughts on the inclement weather draw to a close, meeting adjourned. Next?

the turtle

March 20, 2008

In a line of waiting, the plant inches past my position.  I’d catch up, but the people in front should shuffle forward first.  Is the etiquette to say something?  I can’t believe it passed in front with its long green leaf.  Maybe I’ll keep waiting my turn, politely.  My patience is an ingrained accommodating virtue.  That plant can’t beat me forever.

these days

March 20, 2008

People talk of depression as drowning.  I think it’s a pressure on the chest, almost like a constriction around central body, furthering the pressure by pressing down.  Holding tight, contained and fast.  Because it is so close, physically encountered, the consciousness of it feels such weight and ignores it.  The internal pressure pushing, pushing down, so the mind turns inward and down too.  Now subliminally focused on the indentation on the rippled surface.

If I were to Get There, with baggage

March 20, 2008

Time eats its way through the exhaustive process of Australian travel, baggage dragging themselves around the baggage carousel and jostled continuously, to bring us to a rest at Aunt Ruth’s house.  Our family drives the upgraded sedan for a spell to our brick destination with requisite clothesline visible in the yard.  You finally made it!  Welcome back.  And so the unit is unloaded and arrived.  How was your trip?  The same.  Hellish, but worth it to be here, and see you.  You flattera (the ending pronounced with a soft ‘a’ as in cart)  Cousin Leslie laughs.  We grin.  All of us together.  Jump right in the lamingtons, we got them as an Aussie treat for the adventcha.  Happy hospitality is a sign of the geography.  Tea and biscuits are a staple, but the coconut flecked chocolate covered sponge cake surprise is an indication of together having a deep bond and mutual understanding.  A little gesture always shows something.  We have a knowledge of love and shared past, our Australian sentiment of bonded family that can only be further solidified by a communion over the backyard barbie (properly now pronounced neglecting the ‘r’).  Bring out the lamb will ya?  Barbie’s already fired up and the steaks cookin’.