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 |  My first ever Writing.com journal. |
| a deluge of short entries, to bring down the average entry length, to ensure that i won't run out of space, because i'm increasingly obsessed with the thought of running out of space. maybe i've mentioned it. professor strange's class was great today. she finally explained the idea behind the narrative collage, an activity she'd been teasing us with for weeks. basic idea: generate a random or not-so-random list of ten or twelve words, alphabetize them as to randomize their order somewhat, and then write a prose paragraph around each one. supposedly, the paragraphs start to eventually converge; we didn't get that far, because there were midterms to hand back and such, but mine started to, kind of, mainly because all my paragraphs were lifted almost directly from the melinda story. almost all. for amethyst: "My birthstone is cheap, thank God. I've lost more amethyst rings than I care to remember, over the years: between the sidewalk cracks in our old neighborhood, in the pool at that uppity summer camp, among the tall grass by the McDonald's parking lot. Were I an April baby, this might have mattered. As it was, they just kept coming in, one after another, every February." meh. boring. the april birthstone is a diamond, by the way. denim: "It's a different experience, in jeans. The coarse fabric abrades, gets bunched up in places. Afterward, everyone wants to 'debrief,' or really just bitch. 'You hurt me.' 'You hurt me too.' It becomes a competition. 'These are from Express.' 'These have double-stitched seams and reinforced pockets.' Everyone limps away scowling." refers to making out with marcus, of course. filigree: "The wraparound porch has that strange, busy woodwork at the top, whitewashed filigree trimming the cylindrical support beams. John carved the patterns, supposedly, and Grace probably hovered nearby screaming that they weren't dainty enough. You can see the places where he went too thin, where the paint is flaking of because there's nothing to hold onto. Ugly porch." melinda. maple: "She complains because they're glazed on top and on bottom. The other ones, the Dunkin' variety, are easier to stomach because they've just got that one light coating on top. These ones are nauseating, with the aggressively sweet artificial maple flavoring on top, the sweet-laced cake in the middle and the sugary paste on the bottom. We don't get donuts often." melony and, also, melinda. overcast: "'If it rains,' she announces, 'we won't go. That'll be our sign that this is a good year to skip dinner.' She wants it to rain. She watches the sky all morning, peeking surreptitiously out the living room window, waiting for the gray to open up and send forth its mighty wet salvation. I consider obliging her with a watering can." melinda. et cetera. still planning on finishing that story, in theory, and on posting it, so i won't divulge anymore. but anyway, it was fantastic. i'm a nerd, really. oh, and we found your dead rooster in the barnyard this morning. just acting on aaron's suggestion, from yesterday. let's see if it works. |
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