Calisthenics - Dialogue that Shows Instead of Tells - Week 5

     "I'm getting vanilla.  I don't see how you can stand chocolate!"

     "Well, I love it, and it contains powerful antioxidants!"  I smiled at the clerk and paid for my one scoop of chocolate in a cup.

     She made a face at my chocolate.  "Antioxidants?  Are you afraid you're going to rust?"

     I could see that she thought her comment was funny.  I glanced at her with a hint of amusement in my eyes.  "Maybe your joints wouldn't be so stiff if you'd eat chocolate."

     She scrunched up her face.  "No, thanks!  I much prefer vanilla laced with Advil."

     "Let's walk to Macy*s while we eat."

     "Okay."  She took one glorious lick from the triple scoop vanilla ice cream cone, and then the whole thing just toppled to the floor.  "Well, I wasn't really hungry anyway.  And you shouldn't be eating ice cream either if you ever expect to lose that weight."

     Her comment really pissed me off.  She was a skinny blonde bitch with an adolescent waistline.  Her rib cage had never been permanently stretched out by a growing fetus.  I looked at her with a mixture of pity and anger.  I would take my child and my slightly larger waist any day over her tiny waist.  That is when I decided that she was just too vanilla for me.  Next time, I'd ask Helen to go shopping with me.  She loves chocolate!

Calisthenics - Dialogue that Shows Instead of Tells - Week 5

     "I like all genres of music except rap.  Actually, I think rap music is an oxymoron."  She stuck her finger in her mouth and made a gagging sound.

     "I can understand how you feel, but Cam 's managed to teach me a little rap appreciation."  I kept both hands on the wheel and focused on driving.

     Glenda stared at me.  "You mean you permit him to listen to that crap with you?  Are you crazy?"

     "Yes, a little, but at least I'm in therapy.  I do it because of my mother.  She hated my rock music and always made me turn it down.  I swore I'd never be like her.  So, yes, Cam and I listen to rap in the car.  It's a bonding thing.  And we play it as loud as he wants it!"  I turned and gave Glenda a brilliant smile.

     "You'll be wearing hearing aids before you're out of your forties.  Did you see that hideous thing in Catherine's ear at church yesterday?"  She squirmed, rubbed her ear, and slumped further in her seat.

     I shook my head.  "No, I don't think I even saw Catherine.  Just listen to this one song by Tupac."  I pressed number one for his CD, but the volume was too low.  When I reached to turn it up, the whole knob fell off, and I said, "Damn!"

     Glenda gave me a smug look.  "See, God doesn't even want to hear it.

Junkyard Quote # 3 - week 5

"Some of the world's greatest feats were accomplished by people not smart enough to know they were impossible."
_____ Doug Larson

Junkyard Quote # 2 - Week 5

     "When we walked in, the smell of flowers was overpowering.  Funeral flowers have a different smell than wedding flowers.  Like if I walked into a church blindfolded, I could tell if it was a wedding or a funeral about to take place just by the smell of the flowers."
____ excerpt from a memoir by Beverly Smith

Junkyard Quote #1 - Week - 5

"I am truly looking forward to being subsumed with you deeply within the spiritual / affective / cognitive / physical domains."
_____excerpt from an email from a special man

Free Entry - Week 4 - A Memoir - Milking the Cow

     One hot, humid July afternoon in 1965, I squatted unhappily beside Sukey, our cow.  As the first squirts of milk fell, making a tinny sound in the metal bucket, my thoughts flowed as freely as Sukey's milk.
     I cannot believe I have to do something this low and demeaning. My best friend, Sandra, never has to do anything like this.  I hope nobody I know drives by.
     As I sat milking and feeling sorry for myself for being a farmer's daughter, the smell of freshly mown grass
permeated the air.  Sukey shifted from one foot to another and gently swished her tail to swat flies from her undulating reddish-brown coat.  Sweat beads built up and rolled down my face and the cleavage trapped in my bra.  The bucket was almost full.  Soon I'd be free to take a bath and scrub the cow tit smell from my hands for my date with Bob.  I felt positive that he'd never ask me out again if he could see me in this embarrassing situation.
     With no warning, Sukey's tail switched violently and caught in the wire mesh rollers in my hair, leaving half the rollers entangled in her coarse, smelly, shitty tail.  Sukey was the victim of a huge horsefly bite.  This event set off a chain reaction which included Sukey stepping in the brimming bucket of milk, thereby spilling its contents, my producing a near blood-curdling scream of total exasperation and frustration., followed by my mother dashing out the back door to see what was causing all the commotion.
     "What happened?"
     "That dumb old cow just jerked out my rollers with her gross tail, stepped in the bucket, and spilled the milk!  This is so unfair!"
     Mother thought the whole scene was hilarious and collapsed onto the grass in a fit of hysterics.  Her infectious laughter broke down my defenses, and I too dissolved in tears and laughter.  The absurdity of the situation provided much-needed levity and release from the mundane monotony of another day on the farm.
     

Reading Response - Week 4 - Writing Poetry - Chapter 6 - By Chad Davidson and Gregory Fraser

     I chose this chapter because it gives so many helpful suggestions for writing and critiquing poetry.  It made me more aware of the importance of explaining the reasons for a particular assessment.  Just saying that you liked or disliked  the piece is not helpful without explaining why.
     Giving objective reasons for an assessment helps alleviate hurt feelings in the writer.  Hurt feelings cause anxiety about sharing and can cripple the creative process.
     I liked what Asinov said about writers falling into two camps:
     "1.  Those who bleed copiously and visibly at any bad review and
       2.  Those who bleed copiously and secretly at any bad review."
     The most helpful workshop concentrates more on objective bases than on subjective bases.  Affective reasoning is one of the biggest perils in critiquing poetry.
     Poems need to be assessed on their own merit, and students need to be able to provide their own interpretations rather than to expect the meaning to be delivered to them.  Poems will have different meanings to unique individuals.
     Whether we speak of the author or the critic, the melding of the creative faculties resides at the heart of the culture of the workshop.