January 2011
14 posts
character sketch - can you guess who it is?
Little Timmy, a boy with rosy cheeks and a lopsided grin, thought he was the rooster of the playground. Shaking his ostritch tuft, he strutted grandly from chicken to chicken, tilting his head with a twinkle in his eye. Standing guard at the tire swing, he offered his gentlemanly services to the princess with blond pigtails. He continued his round, accompanying an elegant lady down a slide, and...
the first bite
“The initial taste may have been a bit too spicy, juicy, or dry, but after a few chews, I realize that the food isn’t so bad (usually).” <—- Read Peter’s Assigned Blog Post #7.
The first bite’s always the most difficult. The first bite’s the bite we put off for so long. The first bite’s the one we avoid every time we decide “nah, I think...
“He sends her a link for a TED talk, one about vulnerability and connection. It’s...”
– SORRY, I’M GUSHING AGAIN. But this deserves it, okay? The last sentence might be the best thing ever.
http://bokononismandbananas.tumblr.com/post/2604091066/hi
annie dillard - inspiration and reflections (1)
Highlight quotes/passages/sentences that especially stood out to me as poetic or philosophical:
· “The youth gets together his materials to build a bridge to the moon, or perchance a palace or temple on the earth, and at length the middle-aged man concludes to build a wood-shed with them.” -Thoreau. (My own reflection - ) If the youth gets together his materials to build a wood-shed,...
the right to judge (reflections on annie dillard)
Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life. I finished it in a daze… “We may fairly ask that a book about writing be, itself, a work of art. And that is what Dillard offers.” - Philadelphia Inquirer
Agreed.
(Sorry, I’ve been gushing so much lately - especially about Lorrie Moore - so I’ll make an attempt to qualify my gushing with a few critical comments.)
I have this...
circus parade (put me in, coach!)
I was rather disappointed about my Corillian Point character… (yes, it’s prettier spelled that way) Some of yours turned out outrageously creative. I’m jealous — Kaya will have to do, although she’s a little too ordinary to my taste.
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The creased fig-tinted lips of a stiff-shouldered old lady widened into the perfect circle of her tea...
marigolds and constellations (neddy's flashback...
To be honest, I’m not too fond of this scene — probably because I’m not too fond of Neddy’s character in The Swimmer. But posting anyway… because Prof. Cross told me to and because I have too many overdue posts. Sorry for being inconsistent about posting, my bursts of creative energy come and go of their own will. > <”
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Going...
“She had to learn not to be afraid of a man, the way, in your childhood, you...”
– Lorrie Moore, You’re Ugly Too.
I tried to restrain myself, but I like this quote way too much. Don’t worry, I’ll get over my Lorrie Moore addiction - the withdrawal symptoms are tough, but I’m going through therapy, one day at a time.
Real posts coming Wednesday. Promise!...
“Perhaps, she thinks, she is being punished: too many babysitters too early...”
– Lorrie Moore, People Like That Are the Only People Here.
I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. I’m going to flood you with Lorrie Moore quotes now.
“I know nothing that is greater than the Appassionata; I’d like to listen...”
– Vladimir Lenin.
WARNING: This is a victim’s testimony, living proof that art is evil. Take heed, friends. [This is precisely what I addressed two posts back. Read my warning or fear for your lives. — And after that, never read again.]
when's truth coming over for dinner?
“They say that “Time assuages” — Time never did assuage — An actual suffering strengthens As sinews do, with age —
Time is a Test of Trouble — But not a Remedy — If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady —”
Emily Dickinson, 1863.
“Ruefully I noted then that I would possibly look back on those times as an idyll. I vowed to remember the difficulties. I have forgotten them...
writers are evil. (and the best writers are most...
Enlightenment struck me as I was practicing piano, sweating to hold out a particularly gutwrenching chord as long as possible.
artistry = the exploitation of emotions
Think about it. Writers, musicians and artists manipulate the emotions of their victims. And why does it work? Because audiences loooove it. They love to tear up during movies, to feel horribly empty when reading existentialist...
““Don’t fuck with my prose,” he’d been known to say in a...”
– Lorrie Moore strikes again. Vissi d’Arte, from Like Life. This is a humorous, adorable, poignant portrayal of just what Julia and I tried to say (less adeptly). [See the post regarding my story workshop, three posts back.]
December 2010
4 posts
I'm haunted!
I’m going insane, and it’s YOUR fault, fiction class.
I see and hear words everywhere.
When I walk in the street, I look around me and think “that person would make a great character in my fiction story.” I assign them personalities, like Alisia’s stories and Julia’s descriptions of strangers (read their posts — they’re great).
When I meet...
today felt like christmas
Wheee, it’s so much fun to get thirty personalized letters in one day. :)
But it’s really overwhelming, at the same time. So many conflicting responses and opinions.
Julia mentioned in her blog that her story feels like her baby. Ugh, that’s a perfect metaphor! I’m really bad about editing… Once I finish a first draft, I’ve become so attached to every event...
The Three Impossible Characters
First of all, my sincere apologies for being so absent.I still love you all, and read your blog posts more than you think! But I’ve been really very busy (a week of recording conservatory prescreening materials, five college apps completed in five days, a lot of music to learn and practice, the usual schoolwork, some earnest story edits, and a lot of time absorbed by I-don’t-even-know-what)…...
November 2010
1 post
lost thanks (abp6)
I’M INCREDIBLY ANGRY. I just spent forty minutes writing a long, long, long, sincere, thought-out letter about three posts I appreciate. Pressed “create post,” and the server was too full to publish. LOST FOREVER.
And no, I’m not rewriting it. Tumblr, you don’t deserve it.
Well, here you go, here are the links. They’re still magical posts, but I guess you...
October 2010
2 posts
Wind Chimes
Peace, but for the tinkle of the decorative bells Kaya’s grandmother surrounded the house with — comforting guardian angels that broke the eerie silence of the isloated neighborhood. No breeze or gust of wind, but the perpetual tinkle…
Kaya sat up from the floral couch, alert now. Too many tinkles, and gentle thumps downstairs. The fish tank’s whirring filter? Had grandma...
Pianist
Wake up at 5 am on Mondays and Tuesdays to practice before school; practice Czerny etudes for thirty minutes; bump up the metronome by one notch every day; don’t rush the thirty-second notes; repeat those three measures twenty times — an amateur repeats a passage until he gets it right, a professional repeats a passage until he can’t get it wrong; watch that crescendo;...
September 2010
10 posts
whimbleton (abp #4)
I generally wimp out of naming things and leave the responsibility to braver souls… but Whimbleton is the first name that popped into my head. It sounds like a really quirky small town full of odd people, which is what the place is turning out to be.
I think we need a circus tent. Colourful circus tents always liven up the scenery. And strange things happen in circus tents.
Maybe there...
Scabby knees (abp #3)
Kaya “Peaches” Nao can touch her right knee to her left ear. She wears a violet leotard which emphasizes her frightening 16-inch waist, and keeps her knees patched up with pink Hello Kitty bandaids even in the shower. Her twisted nose was once bashed in by the hairy knee of a 250 pound swimmer falling from the diving board as Peaches observed an elephant-shaped cloud above the...
Detail-Sketches
The worn glass of the mirror, spattered with inky black dots and fingerprint smudges, points out all the subtle flaws neglected by a quick glance: the almonds of her eyes are a little too wide, her long eyelashes too straight to define her eyes; a few subtle creases disrupts her long pale forehead, probably born of a silly face or anxious frown too many; a single rebellious hair deserts his...
War Strategy
The boy brutally squeezes his eyes shut, as if his eyelids are medieval fortified gates guarding against the enemy. He consults his strategic advisor about the weapons needed for defense. Headphones. The bulky, pretentious kind. Preferably the new Skullcandy Pro Carbon Headphones, in yellow and black. Headphones to blast some heavy metal. There’s nothing he needs more right now—an...
“Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and as we pass through them...”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Experience.”
whose style is it anyway ? (abp #2)
Junot Diaz: A distinct and unique element is always in his writing — Latin American culture. Personally, I really like his style because it seems effortless. It flows like thoughts do, and it never seems over-edited and polished. Some of his writing is shockingly direct, and overall rather simple (perhaps as he’s writing in retrospective about memories of his childhood). He uses slang...
“They say that “Time assuages” —
Time never did assuage...”
– Emily Dickinson, 1863.
meet the monster. -- assigned blog post #1
Fiction is truth buried within a mountain, clothed in a clown costume, covered in buttercream frosting, protected by heavy armour, or simply wrapped in aluminium foil.
But the truth is still the heart of fiction ; by far its most important component. Fiction would have no meaning — it would not be human news — if it did not contain truth ! Even if a story is written only for...
impossible.
Sometimes I wonder ; why bother ?
It’s just so frustrating. Images, impressions, thoughts, emotions - just plain feelings - how can I possibly be expected to reduce those to … letters ?
1) Twenty-six letters in the alphabet, only a finite number of combinations (okay, it’s a big number - I’m not a math genius - but the possibilities certainly end...
