Start of story

The hazy sky envelopes the city with no discernable edge, thick with misty droplets.  The sun hides behind this monochromatic mix of city and sky; its only proof a cast of absent light over stone streets littered with cardboard boxes of fruits and fish, frogs and turtles.  The air carries the smell of stale sea water and rot across peddler's wide chapped cheeks as they hover over blankets and tarps, tin and turquoise lining each.

I close my eyes and yellow light falls in a circle over an old cream floor.  A desk sits in the middle, wooden and heavy.  The only other object is a large metal filing cabinet placed directly behind the desk and everything outside of yellow light fades to black.  I know I am here by the clacking of my shoes against the floor.  I open a drawer of the filing cabinet and retrieve a single manila file.  It is wet as I open it and it drips down my arms, pooling at my feet until I can see my reflection in its puddle.  I look up to haze enveloping a city with no discernable edge, the sun hiding behind a monochromatic mix of building and sky, it’s only proof a cast of dull light shed over stone streets.  Cardboard boxes of fruits and fish, frogs and turtles litter the roads and the air carries the smell of stale seawater and rot into my scarf.  Peddler’s wide cheeks grow chapped as the hover over blankets and tarps, tin and turquoise lining each.

Response to Fiction Packet One

I like most of the stories in the fiction packet.  Morning News was interesting to me and made me think of what I would do if told I was going to die soon.  I wonder where he drew the inspiration for this story, if he knew someone who was ill.  

Survivors was a grim story.  A homosexual couple each dying of AIDS and one man realizes he wants to die first so he doesn't have to deal with the aftermath of his partner's death and spend his last days on earth burdened.  I think both of these works are shockingly honest.  When faced with death, how would any of us react?  Probably not much differently, even if we like to think so.

Wallet made me laugh.  The old man's scheme to catch a thief reminded me of one of those old silent black and white films.  

So far, I am really enjoying the fiction segment of this course.  All of these short stories were enjoyable to read and I'm impressed that the authors can create such vivid, complete stories in just a couple paragraphs.  

Response to Bird by Bird

I found the first portion of Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird a really enjoyable read.  I think the subject matter is helpful for anyone trying to improve their writing and I really like her style.  She is humorous and stays informative.  I also like that she (as I assume all writers do) uses what she knows from personal experiences to illustrate her points.  I like her writing, and because of that I expect she knows what she is talking about and I am inclined to follow her book's advice.

Although I was already familiar with some of the techniques Lamott suggests, I have never before been instructed to write at the same time every day in an effort to train the brain towards creativity or production of more meaningful (as in writeable) thoughts.  Although writing is neither my focus throughout school nor my career path, I do enjoy it and this is a tactic I will try.

Response to City Eclogue

Ed Roberson's City Eclogue was a difficult read for me.  Often I need to read poems several times to find meaning, though reading Roberson's works through and through I still see sporadic piles of words across the pages.  There were sections of poems (though no poem in it's entirety) that I enjoyed, but did not necessarily understand.

Within the section Beauty's Standing, there is an italicized portion on page 12 (page 71) titled Beauty's Standing (II):

It has       of those decorator's centuries
that hollowness,       that emptiness that who


all this was for don' sit here,       is not
here       and this is, whatever it is


A people's time as a chair;       their hunger---
a bowl, an ornate dinnerware;       the fill---


one piece of unknown use short,       its failure,
by the thousands


                        of the bellies now a currency,
a pattern, a simple handiwork betrayed


Roberson is writing about a room, possibly a dining room, from a different period of time.  It is extravagantly decorated and to me, he sees it as either a time passed or a waste.  He calls it empty, they hunger for something which can be filled with material.

In addition to Beauty's Standing (II) and the section Beauty's Standing, Roberson writes another poem of the same name on the page (37) prior to the section.  Again the literal focus is a room, full of decoration yet somehow empty.  I'd like to know the background on these poems and how they are all related.  I think the language of them is beautiful and I really enjoyed those excerpts over the rest of the material.