Free Write 3/20/11

1.
I grabbed him by the neck and wrung til I heard it snap. The body lay limp in my old weathered hands; its warmth still uncomfortable on my skin.  Holding him by his neck, I took him out behind the barn. That's when the dirty work began. I prepared him well. I pulled at him til he was bald all over. Trimmed him up, made him look nice for the missus. It was her turn to get at him next. She'll get him cleaned up real nice and poke at him til he's just tender. Man, I can't wait for dinner.

3.
She watched him hobble up the beaten pathway toward the house. Smiling at his torn britches, she made mind to mend them later. The wife walked into her kitchen to prepare for her job. A large pot of boiling water, the biggest knife from the drawer, sterile white rages to mop up the blood...
Her husband sloshed in the back door holding it by its neck. Its head lay lopsided and flopped against her husband’s hand. You know I like it when you cut his head off before you bring it in, she said. The husband shrugged and stepped back out to finish it off. The wife pulled some spices out of the cabinet and her mouth began to water.

2.
The smell engulfs you--a pasture of cows, dirt, a chicken coop. The rocks under your feet crunch as you walk to the old coop. You see a gangly old man with a limp walking several paces ahead of you. He opens the screen door to the cop and the rusty hinges call hello to you. You follow him inside and his process begins. Who will Hans' next victim? You have no choice, no way to save any of them as you watch Hans choose the plumpest chicken and wring it with an emotionless stare. You flinch at the brutality, but there is no going back. Hans clean the chicken up a little behind the barn, and you watch him trudge up to his old house to deliver dinner to his wife.

-This is what I wrote in class. The number indicates what person I'm speaking in (first person, second person, ect.). So, I do know how to count... though it doesn't look like it by the way this is written but it is imperative that the paragraphs are lined up this way. Sorry ;-)
I know it's pretty creepy...maybe too creepy with not enough depth? Let me know.

Free Write 3/20/11

Breathing

Below sea level I hurry. The salt infects my nose, eyes, taste. My lips emblazoned with crystals, my body adorned in scales. Tendrils of light cadence through my hair. My lower body arches and curves with the current, propelling me along. Stirred sand blurs my vision; I quickly maneuver through, longing to catch one last glimpse. We didn’t have long, yet that’s what propelled us to fall in love. He didn’t mean to come here; didn’t intend to be one of us. It happened when he saw me. We don’t know why. Maybe that’s what Triton does when two people are meant to be. Maybe it was because of the green anchor tattooed on his forearm. Either way, his two legs morphed into one. His short hair grew to shoulder length golden curls. I taught him how to breathe, how to swim in the currents, how to enjoy the grottos. And we lost it. I grit my pointed teeth as I hurry. He is on a ship now. Curiosity. Earlier, he bobbed his head to the surface and when he did, his legs grew back. Triton changed his mind today. His merman made a mistake. We found him. We saw the ship rescue him, pull him aboard. With his human lips he yelled my name in our language. Despite my people urging me not to, I swam to the surface and prayed to the ocean to make my fin be two. When it didn’t, my salt tears mixed with the ocean. He cried my name I again. I wanted him to see that I was there, but he didn’t. I said nothing, and that’s what I regret now. I imagined his lips of fleshed wedding mine of diamonds. How they would now feel soft and tender on my body opposed to the rough rock that I knew before.

The ship is sinking. Triton is mad. He feels that he was deceived; his new merman wasn’t content enough. He never should have ventured above the surface. Now we are paying. There will be no way for him to return to me. We all can feel the vibration of the sinking ship. There is fire, we taste the ash as it mingles in our air. I keep going, throw my pearl adorned wrist back and move faster. It is too late when I reached the scene. I look for him everywhere and pieces from the ship sink lower, searching for a final place to rest. I see his arm, I see the anchor, and his body turned back to merman—what he really was. This time it’s different. The light from his hair is gone, his face is placid. He’s gone. I breath in the debris, smoke, and blood.

Don’t say his name, then he isn’t real. Don’t say love, because it wasn’t. The deepest are what words can’t illuminate.

  

Junk Yard Quotes 3/20/11

Junkyard Quotes:

I stole all of these of of people's Facebook Status'. Enjoy!

"Just a few feet away, but we're miles apart."

"The past was lurking, but you made it stop."

"If this is the best time of my life, then I am really dissappointed."

"The answer's in the books. Read enough of them, and you'll never go wrong."

"I have often wondered what is to become of me. Then I stop to look at the world and I suddenly see a much bigger picture that deserves my undivided attention."

Classmare Response Makeup

I know you-with the house on the corner, the one with the white picket fence
two kids, a dog, a mommy, and a daddy.
I know you, but you don't know me.
I know that after everyone sleeps at night , daddy has a secret life-
an online fantasy life-I know your perfect family isn't so perfect.
I know the facade you put on for everyone
To hide the pain and bitterness of a life that is slowly going downhill
I know that beach vacation wasn't as perfect as the pictures you put on facebook
I know the kids are spoiled brats because you don't care
I know you, but you don't know me.
I know the facebook-picture perfect family you show the world
hides a problematic family
I know all about you but you don't know me
I know the foods you eat, the gym membership that goes unused
I know the fancy car you drive and beautiful mansion you live in
Is out of your budget and buries you in a hole of debt
Oh yea I know all about you
Where you shop, where you eat, when you go on vacation,
The route you take to work every morning.
How do I know so much about you?
Privacy doesn't exist in this world
Technology reveals the world's masquerade

I really like the concept of this poem. Social networking allows people to share so much information that I personally do not care about either. I didn't think the poem was too cryptic. There are great images like, "facebook-picture perfect family" and "with one click." It is obvious to me that it is about social networking. The part of the poem that I would make some changes to would perhaps be the ending line. I would cut it completely and possible change the title becuase I think it would be great if the poem just ended with "privacy doesn't exist." That line is pretty hard hitting and I feeling like it is even more effective than "Technology reveals the world's masquerade." The reason I feel this way is because I felt that the poem is specifically pointing to one person--so the ending became far too broad for me. Another line that also confused me is "I know you, but you don't know me." If you are "friends on facebook" they why don't they know who you are? Just something to consider. Otherwise, I really enjoyed the poem. Two thumbs up!

Free Write Makeup 3/13/11

-This still needs to be completed...but it's something that I started this week.

In the sweet town of Tallapoosa,
Papa and his new teeth live with Mawmaw, Alma.

Papa's new teeth
make him whistle and creak.

His slippery S's
similar to the snake he detests.

Papa's cheek bones look higher
and his back stands much straighter.

His sweet spirit is the same,
his loud personality is anything but tame.

Junkyard Quotes Makeup

"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempest and is never shaken."
-Shakespeare

"There is something about death, like love itself."
-Spoon River

"To love would be an awfully big adventure"
-J. M. Barrie

You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always think of you."
- J. M. Barrie

And it would have been worth it, after all,
after the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Free Write Makeup 3/13/11

End of short story

She told me she loved me one night when we were walking through the forest. The leaves on all the trees had turned into a bright Autumn’s red. They loomed above us, swaying a whispering advice.  I felt rage build up inside of me. Why would “love” do this to a man? And why couldn’t I say it back? Cause I knew I loved her, I already told you that I did. But I am only a man, a selfish man at that. I took her soft white hand in mine. She smiled up at me, waiting for me to say something back. My lips and throat began to work together to try and process the words; yet if we had stayed in that thicket for a hundred years, I still don’t think I would have ever told her I loved her.

When the awkwardness crept upon us, we started walkin’. Somehow we ended up at Louisa’s place. I guess she was navigating, and maybe that was the problem with the whole relationship—I’d lost control. We walked up those lonely steps for the last time. She slowly released my hand and walked to the door. Without turning around she said, “I know there is good in you, Jett.”

That’s the last thing I ever did hear her say because I left down that day. I went to find my own path, my own journey without God or some women. I managed without God for a while, but not the women. There was this one lady who I held company with more often than other. She was the complete opposite of my Louisa. Black hair and eyes to match. She didn’t worry about love and stuff…and I thought that was pretty good for a woman. But one night when she was at my place, an emotion came over me and I started to cry. She kissed the tears off my face and held them on her tongue. Thinking they were for her, when really they were Louisa’s. Her prayers were not in vain. That night I sent that awful girl home and never saw her again, either. I came back to God and he took me, I think. But I never found myself going back to Louisa. My soiled body wasn’t fittin’ for her anymore. She didn’t deserve my stench—even though I sort of knew that she wanted my back anyhow.

I don’t know what I ever meant to Louisa, but I know what she meant to me. I learned that just because I’m a man doesn’t mean that I have to control. Louisa taught me how to love a woman, and not in the way that you’re thinkin’. She taught me to cherish, to enjoy just talkin’, to grow with someone. She loved me no matter what, and I still love her.  You prayers are not in vain, Louisa. They aren’t.