We watched the film Mi Familia in class today. It was alright, v. sad though. I don't know, something about it rubbed me the wrong way. It's about a family headed my a mother and father who immigrated to the US from Mexico. It's just one of those immigrant stories where EVERYTHING happens to this one family- kind of like Come See the Paradise (about a Japanese American family). So basically, this family sees the following issues: gangs, drugs, murder, racism by the police, mysticism and religion (river god takes someone aka they die), son renouncing culture (change name to William), marriage for entry into the US, prison, farm labor, stereotyping, owning a Mexican restaurant, etc. etc. etc. it hurts my head all that they squeezed into this one family. Plus, you don't really get the narrator's story. Except that he was in the navy. Hm.
Maybe three stars ?
Then we learned about the UN in Human Rights Leadership today. It is all v. confusing, btw. My head hurts thinking about it, so I'll post something or other later. Don't much want to argue politics where all the world can see it (will end up political prisoner O.O whaa?).
Almost done with Prozac Nation- hoorah! And one of the other books for Chican@ (that's how my teacher writes Chicano/Chicana because it's both an a and an o... though I still have not met my professor yet. Is calling a professor just plain-o teacher bad?) Lit finally arrived- yay! It is short, so I shall begin it ASA my current book is completed.
Cannot stay up to watch Ghost on tv tho v.v good night!
<3
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
"Shiny Planet"
Obviously, an actual title is needed. Eck. Here's the short story I said I might post. I've got it dated and printed and saved up the wazoo but am still slightly worried someone might turn it into something not half-bad and steal it without mentioning li'l ol' me. In which case, I'd have to sue them and sew them (to a meteorite...). Be warned, ye piratey kinds- yarg!
(From my 2008 Nanowrimo Novel "Dedication"-- short stories are intermixed with the narrative)-- which means I also have this on the Nanowrimo site on my account. Feeling v. protected (though a little vain O.o)
Working title "Shiny Planet" (anyone have an actual title?)--
It was brighter than I had imagined, the light so intense that I had to shield my eyes with my hand and look at the ground. The dirt below me shimmered, as though someone had mixed in glitter with the soil, and this shimmery dirt caught in the wind occasionally and carried through the air, giving everything the illusion of being an illusion. It smelt old. Although I know this description is vague and offers little, it is exactly as I felt, as though I were entering some ancient library, sealed off for hundreds of years and preserved until my entrance. It was a hot sort of old smell, the heat slightly above the temperatures reached in even the highest regions of Earth.
My companion handed me my goggles. In the shimmery air, her hand too glistened, making her appear as though she was merely a figment created by the random shapings of the wind. Perhaps nothing here would appear real to me at first.
I placed my goggles over my eyes and offered a brief “thanks” to my companion. She said nothing in response, still taking in her first few experiences of the new land. I stood beside her and looked up, surveying the sandy scene that looked a lot like something you would see in a fairy tale. Of course, there were very few trees, and would have been few colors at all if the glittering sands had not caught the sun in tiny prisms. Or perhaps it was something other than sand, pollen maybe. I must admit to you that I am not a scientist. That was not my purpose here.
The sun seemed dangerously close, as though it might crash into us at any second. But, really, it must be the case that any deviation in the proximity of the sun from a person’s location makes he or she nervous. My companion certainly seemed anxious, though I really couldn’t expect less, given the circumstances.
“What do you think?” She asked me, turning to face me with her lovely figure, lovely face glittering, making her seem like a goddess, the goddess of this strange place.
I considered this question. “It is iridescent.”
She laughed but ended up coughing as she inhaled the glimmering bits. I rushed to her aid but she shook me off with her hand and removed her water bottle from her side to take a large gulp. She continued to smile as her coughing became less frequent and stopped.
“I didn’t mean for it to be funny,” I said, shyly, continuing to watch her.
“You never do,” she replied as she hitched her water bottle back to her side, “That’s what makes it so funny.” My companion then stretched, her back and shoulders, producing various cracks and snaps, before sitting down rather abruptly, more accurately allowing herself to fall into a cross-legged sit. “What should we do first, do you think?” She looked up at me with a hand shielding her eyes, the sun still too intense, even with her goggles.
“We should assemble our new shelter,” I suggested as I mimicked her way of sitting, which wasn’t nearly as easy to do as it had appeared. “It could get dark at any time.”
“It won’t get dark at any time, ever,” my companion countered. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“One of the points,” I replied. I leaned back, resting my entire torso in the sand, half-worrying that gigantic tentacles would suddenly reach out of the ground and wrap themselves around me. I would have a moment to scream, to simultaneously warn my companion and bid her adieu, before being pulled into the ground and devoured. Most likely, the beast would tear me into tiny pieces, first my limbs, so that I would have the sensation of being ripped apart, and then my head. But then, it was only a half-worry.
The sun fell strongly on my face, and I felt the shining particles attach themselves to the hairs on my face and head. I wondered if I glittered like my companion, if I could ever look half so appealing. But then, that wasn’t the problem, was it?
“It isn’t how I expected it would be,” she said to me, and I nodded in response. “I thought it would be hotter.”
“It is very hot,” I replied, and felt my skin burning to prove it.
“But it could have been worse.” She took out some sunscreen from her backpack and rubbed it messily across her face in splotches. It smelled like grapes. “It’s actually kind of pretty.”
“Yes, the iridescence is very nice when it isn’t lodged in your throat,” I agreed, which made her laugh again, though I still was not trying to be amusing. I think there must be something strange in the way that I talk now. I used to make her laugh before but it was always when I had meant to. Something was strange here. Perhaps it was the heat that did it.
She lay down too, and rolled over to be beside me. I stretched my arm to rest by her side, but did not touch her. The sand grew hot beneath us, and I wished that we had brought a towel. But then, this wasn’t a pleasure cruise, either. To be entirely candid, I must admit that the reason for our stay here was, at this point, competently eluding me.
“We should assemble the tent,” I suggested, and I stood, carefully, the pretty dusts sweeping off of me in the motion and with the wind. I could feel the wind push through my hair, sending the shimmers from it as well, apart from those that were always there. I could feel the sands begin to stick to me as I sweat and knew that the two of us would soon be uncomfortable.
I imagined that the sun was setting, growing a little more to the west as each second progressed, though I didn't even know which direction was which or if, perhaps, the sun set in the north here. It was a hopeful notion, at best, and the result of the heat on my mind, at worst. I wished I had thought to shave my head before coming, to give my scalp at least a bit of reprieve from the heat. If it had been a little hotter, I imagined it might have burst into flames.
“I don’t have the energy,” my companion whined, slightly, but she stood nonetheless.
We returned to where we had come from, where the tent and a box of provisions lay, including matches and a few logs to start a fire. I think those might have been meant as some sort of a joke, though they were heavy to carry, I remembered. The tent was small, you could tell even with it disassembled, and sadly black, which would look dismal against the mostly brownish orange, though shimmery, landscape.
Taking up a few pieces, I glanced to my companion. “Do you know how to construct this?”
She rummaged through the box, trying to find the instructions. I was fairly certain we had never had any, but it seemed a pity to ruin her hopes so quickly. “I think we must’ve lost them,” she exclaimed, and she walked over to me. “I’m sure we can figure it out, though.”
It took us nearly an hour to complete the tent’s assembly, and we were exhausted when the effort was concluded. From the box, we removed two energy bars, which we ate voraciously, though they had no taste to speak of.
However, it was a great disappointment when we entered the tent, for it was even hotter than the outside, due to the black color, which took in great amounts of heat. In order to combat this, we removed our clothes and ripped them, covering the small roof with their pastel colors. With any luck, this would eventually cool the tent, provided the wind did not blow the garments away.
We sat inside the tent, beside each other, but not touching, for a long time. My companion would occasionally wet her fingers in her water bottle and fling the droplets at me, smiling sometimes though sometimes sad. There was nothing really to do. I went out to get the box and set it at the opening of our tent, so that we could reach it from within.
“Is there anything interesting in there?” My companion asked, glancing over my naked shoulders and back to the box’s interior.
“Do you want to have a hand at carving one of the logs?” I tried, taking one of them out and showing it to her.
“No,” she replied, a bit disappointedly, “If we got splinters, there wouldn’t be any way to get them out.”
I nodded and returned to her. As I began to set myself down, my companion called out abruptly for me to stop. I froze, my knees bent, imaging myself quite unattractive to look at in such a position.
“Stand up again,” she commanded, and I did. I stood before her and watched her look me over, every detail of my body. She had seen it many times before, so I wasn’t sure what she was playing at. Perhaps I was simply more interesting to look at than the tent’s dark walls.
“Never mind,” she muttered, after a few minutes. “Just sit next to me.”
I set myself beside her and met her gaze, which had turned melancholy. “Do you want to try to sleep?” I asked.
“I don’t think I could,” she replied, though she lay down nonetheless. She sighed deeply, glitters shooting from her mouth, and closed her eyes. I watched her for a very long time. The dust settled on her quickly, enveloping her figure so that it looked as though she was wearing a very tight body suit, and then, as though she were an erotic figure created out of the sand by a naughty child.
I quietly emptied the box then refilled it, trying to trick myself into believing I was organizing things. It certainly seemed as though we were already running low on supplies, but I supposed that must be impossible. It would take a very long time before we ran out. I wondered if we might devise a calendar to count the days. But then, if the sun never sets and the sun never rises, I think that they cannot really be days at all. In this place, night and day are the same.
In an attempt to occupy myself further while my companion pretended to sleep or perhaps made a play at being dead, I tried to remember her name. It was silly, I was sure, that I could have forgotten it, and, in fact, I was positive that I could never have forgotten the name of my only. And, yet, I found myself in the awkward position of having lost it, somewhere along the way.
She stirred, finally, and shook herself violently to remove some of the dust, though it clinged to her as though it were permanently attached. She coughed, noisily, a few times, and freed her mouth, for the most part. Sitting up, she smiled a dusty grin at me. “Did you try to sleep?”
“No,” I replied, “I organized the box.”
“There isn’t very much in there,” she said quietly, but she came over to view my work nonetheless. “How long was I out for?”
I figured she was playing some sort of game. She had not slept and we were both aware of this fact and, additionally, I had no way to measure time. “A few hours,” I lied, and she nodded.
“Do you want to go exploring?” She asked, and I replied “yes” very quickly.
We left the tent with only our goggles on, and continued carrying on through the desert with the sand cutting into our flesh lightly. The sun seemed ever closer, though I told myself it must be further, and the heat tried to dry the sand onto us like concrete. We continued into the endless day until we were back at our tent. It appeared that this was a small, globular place. In order to get any sort of exercise, we circled our tiny planet a few more times.
My companion took me back to the tent and we again sat. She looked tired, beneath all the sand, and she breathed heavily. We had not walked far enough for her to be so exhausted, but the heat seemed to affect her more than it did me.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked. “I can get your water bottle, if you want.”
“Just lay by me,” she pleaded, and I did, because she sounded so miserable and we had only just arrived.
She brought her fingers so that they were only a few centimeters from mine, and I worried that she might forget herself. I coughed to remind her, and she pulled away, standing abruptly to look down at me. “Why do you have to look so handsome?” She asked. She probably would have screamed this question if sand had not been hardening in her throat, stealing away her voice.
“I look like I always looked,” I replied, and I too stood. Her eyes continued to trail me. “Why would I appear any differently?”
She shook her head. “It’s just so hard.”
I nodded and wanted to approach her, but kept my distance. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, but then I admitted, “I seem to have forgotten your name.”
I had expected her to be surprised or even angrily shocked by this news, but she just sighed, quietly, to herself. “Of course you have,” she replied.
“Why?” I asked. “I don’t remember anything.”
“You seem to remember some of it,” she countered, and she approached me again.
“You can’t touch me,” I explained, voicing what we both knew.
“My name is Anne,” she said quietly, “but you’ll forget it again. You always do. They made it a little bit easier for you.”
I wanted to touch her, it filled my mind and it killed me that I could not fulfill the one action we both longed for. “How did we get here? I don’t remember. Why do you remember?”
“Because I killed you, Peter,” she exclaimed, and she threw up her hands in irritation, though I was unable to discern whether it was aimed at me or herself, “And I had to go where they send people who kill those the one they love.”
“Why did you kill me?” I asked, somehow calm.
“I don’t know, I just did!” She began pacing the tiny tent, small circles. “And you were there, after they pumped sodium thiopental into my veins, waiting. You’d been waiting. They said you wanted to be with me, despite everything.”
“I don’t remember any of this.”
“They didn’t want you to remember. It was too awful and you didn’t do anything wrong and it’s more painful for me, having to keep telling you all this! It was too wonderful for me to get to have you again.” She looked at me, and she might have had tears, through she just looked shimmery to me.
I thought for a moment, and felt that I had known this, somewhere inside all along. Yet, I had forgotten. And, she claimed that I would forget again. I couldn’t believe that I could forget this sort of thing, and yet, it wasn’t a matter of thought. “How long have we been here?” I asked, for it had only been half a day for me.
“Forever,” she said, and she cackled piteously. “I don’t know how long. We keep putting up the tent and tearing it down, and food keeps reappearing. And our clothes. And you keep getting mesmerized by the shimmers and saying the exact same things. And I can’t even touch you, or they’ll take you away from me.”
“I wish I could touch you,” I said.
“Me too,” she replied.
I considered her for a moment. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, but then I admitted, “I seem to have forgotten your name.”
It was brighter than I had imagined, the light so intense that I had to shield my eyes with my hand and look at the ground. The dirt below me shimmered, as though someone had mixed in glitter with the soil, and this shimmery dirt caught in the wind occasionally and carried through the air, giving everything the illusion of being an illusion. It smelt old. Although I know this description is vague and offers little, it is exactly as I felt, as though I were entering some ancient library, sealed off for hundreds of years and preserved until my entrance. It was a hot sort of old smell, the heat slightly above the temperatures reached in even the highest regions of Earth.
EDIT: Apparently, by posting on Nanowrimo's website, I am copyrighted, thus,
Copyright 2008 Amanda Martin
Edit 2: How did my spellcheck not catch "shiny" spelt "shiney"? Oh.... now it does... weird. Silly glitches.
(From my 2008 Nanowrimo Novel "Dedication"-- short stories are intermixed with the narrative)-- which means I also have this on the Nanowrimo site on my account. Feeling v. protected (though a little vain O.o)
Working title "Shiny Planet" (anyone have an actual title?)--
It was brighter than I had imagined, the light so intense that I had to shield my eyes with my hand and look at the ground. The dirt below me shimmered, as though someone had mixed in glitter with the soil, and this shimmery dirt caught in the wind occasionally and carried through the air, giving everything the illusion of being an illusion. It smelt old. Although I know this description is vague and offers little, it is exactly as I felt, as though I were entering some ancient library, sealed off for hundreds of years and preserved until my entrance. It was a hot sort of old smell, the heat slightly above the temperatures reached in even the highest regions of Earth.
My companion handed me my goggles. In the shimmery air, her hand too glistened, making her appear as though she was merely a figment created by the random shapings of the wind. Perhaps nothing here would appear real to me at first.
I placed my goggles over my eyes and offered a brief “thanks” to my companion. She said nothing in response, still taking in her first few experiences of the new land. I stood beside her and looked up, surveying the sandy scene that looked a lot like something you would see in a fairy tale. Of course, there were very few trees, and would have been few colors at all if the glittering sands had not caught the sun in tiny prisms. Or perhaps it was something other than sand, pollen maybe. I must admit to you that I am not a scientist. That was not my purpose here.
The sun seemed dangerously close, as though it might crash into us at any second. But, really, it must be the case that any deviation in the proximity of the sun from a person’s location makes he or she nervous. My companion certainly seemed anxious, though I really couldn’t expect less, given the circumstances.
“What do you think?” She asked me, turning to face me with her lovely figure, lovely face glittering, making her seem like a goddess, the goddess of this strange place.
I considered this question. “It is iridescent.”
She laughed but ended up coughing as she inhaled the glimmering bits. I rushed to her aid but she shook me off with her hand and removed her water bottle from her side to take a large gulp. She continued to smile as her coughing became less frequent and stopped.
“I didn’t mean for it to be funny,” I said, shyly, continuing to watch her.
“You never do,” she replied as she hitched her water bottle back to her side, “That’s what makes it so funny.” My companion then stretched, her back and shoulders, producing various cracks and snaps, before sitting down rather abruptly, more accurately allowing herself to fall into a cross-legged sit. “What should we do first, do you think?” She looked up at me with a hand shielding her eyes, the sun still too intense, even with her goggles.
“We should assemble our new shelter,” I suggested as I mimicked her way of sitting, which wasn’t nearly as easy to do as it had appeared. “It could get dark at any time.”
“It won’t get dark at any time, ever,” my companion countered. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“One of the points,” I replied. I leaned back, resting my entire torso in the sand, half-worrying that gigantic tentacles would suddenly reach out of the ground and wrap themselves around me. I would have a moment to scream, to simultaneously warn my companion and bid her adieu, before being pulled into the ground and devoured. Most likely, the beast would tear me into tiny pieces, first my limbs, so that I would have the sensation of being ripped apart, and then my head. But then, it was only a half-worry.
The sun fell strongly on my face, and I felt the shining particles attach themselves to the hairs on my face and head. I wondered if I glittered like my companion, if I could ever look half so appealing. But then, that wasn’t the problem, was it?
“It isn’t how I expected it would be,” she said to me, and I nodded in response. “I thought it would be hotter.”
“It is very hot,” I replied, and felt my skin burning to prove it.
“But it could have been worse.” She took out some sunscreen from her backpack and rubbed it messily across her face in splotches. It smelled like grapes. “It’s actually kind of pretty.”
“Yes, the iridescence is very nice when it isn’t lodged in your throat,” I agreed, which made her laugh again, though I still was not trying to be amusing. I think there must be something strange in the way that I talk now. I used to make her laugh before but it was always when I had meant to. Something was strange here. Perhaps it was the heat that did it.
She lay down too, and rolled over to be beside me. I stretched my arm to rest by her side, but did not touch her. The sand grew hot beneath us, and I wished that we had brought a towel. But then, this wasn’t a pleasure cruise, either. To be entirely candid, I must admit that the reason for our stay here was, at this point, competently eluding me.
“We should assemble the tent,” I suggested, and I stood, carefully, the pretty dusts sweeping off of me in the motion and with the wind. I could feel the wind push through my hair, sending the shimmers from it as well, apart from those that were always there. I could feel the sands begin to stick to me as I sweat and knew that the two of us would soon be uncomfortable.
I imagined that the sun was setting, growing a little more to the west as each second progressed, though I didn't even know which direction was which or if, perhaps, the sun set in the north here. It was a hopeful notion, at best, and the result of the heat on my mind, at worst. I wished I had thought to shave my head before coming, to give my scalp at least a bit of reprieve from the heat. If it had been a little hotter, I imagined it might have burst into flames.
“I don’t have the energy,” my companion whined, slightly, but she stood nonetheless.
We returned to where we had come from, where the tent and a box of provisions lay, including matches and a few logs to start a fire. I think those might have been meant as some sort of a joke, though they were heavy to carry, I remembered. The tent was small, you could tell even with it disassembled, and sadly black, which would look dismal against the mostly brownish orange, though shimmery, landscape.
Taking up a few pieces, I glanced to my companion. “Do you know how to construct this?”
She rummaged through the box, trying to find the instructions. I was fairly certain we had never had any, but it seemed a pity to ruin her hopes so quickly. “I think we must’ve lost them,” she exclaimed, and she walked over to me. “I’m sure we can figure it out, though.”
It took us nearly an hour to complete the tent’s assembly, and we were exhausted when the effort was concluded. From the box, we removed two energy bars, which we ate voraciously, though they had no taste to speak of.
However, it was a great disappointment when we entered the tent, for it was even hotter than the outside, due to the black color, which took in great amounts of heat. In order to combat this, we removed our clothes and ripped them, covering the small roof with their pastel colors. With any luck, this would eventually cool the tent, provided the wind did not blow the garments away.
We sat inside the tent, beside each other, but not touching, for a long time. My companion would occasionally wet her fingers in her water bottle and fling the droplets at me, smiling sometimes though sometimes sad. There was nothing really to do. I went out to get the box and set it at the opening of our tent, so that we could reach it from within.
“Is there anything interesting in there?” My companion asked, glancing over my naked shoulders and back to the box’s interior.
“Do you want to have a hand at carving one of the logs?” I tried, taking one of them out and showing it to her.
“No,” she replied, a bit disappointedly, “If we got splinters, there wouldn’t be any way to get them out.”
I nodded and returned to her. As I began to set myself down, my companion called out abruptly for me to stop. I froze, my knees bent, imaging myself quite unattractive to look at in such a position.
“Stand up again,” she commanded, and I did. I stood before her and watched her look me over, every detail of my body. She had seen it many times before, so I wasn’t sure what she was playing at. Perhaps I was simply more interesting to look at than the tent’s dark walls.
“Never mind,” she muttered, after a few minutes. “Just sit next to me.”
I set myself beside her and met her gaze, which had turned melancholy. “Do you want to try to sleep?” I asked.
“I don’t think I could,” she replied, though she lay down nonetheless. She sighed deeply, glitters shooting from her mouth, and closed her eyes. I watched her for a very long time. The dust settled on her quickly, enveloping her figure so that it looked as though she was wearing a very tight body suit, and then, as though she were an erotic figure created out of the sand by a naughty child.
I quietly emptied the box then refilled it, trying to trick myself into believing I was organizing things. It certainly seemed as though we were already running low on supplies, but I supposed that must be impossible. It would take a very long time before we ran out. I wondered if we might devise a calendar to count the days. But then, if the sun never sets and the sun never rises, I think that they cannot really be days at all. In this place, night and day are the same.
In an attempt to occupy myself further while my companion pretended to sleep or perhaps made a play at being dead, I tried to remember her name. It was silly, I was sure, that I could have forgotten it, and, in fact, I was positive that I could never have forgotten the name of my only. And, yet, I found myself in the awkward position of having lost it, somewhere along the way.
She stirred, finally, and shook herself violently to remove some of the dust, though it clinged to her as though it were permanently attached. She coughed, noisily, a few times, and freed her mouth, for the most part. Sitting up, she smiled a dusty grin at me. “Did you try to sleep?”
“No,” I replied, “I organized the box.”
“There isn’t very much in there,” she said quietly, but she came over to view my work nonetheless. “How long was I out for?”
I figured she was playing some sort of game. She had not slept and we were both aware of this fact and, additionally, I had no way to measure time. “A few hours,” I lied, and she nodded.
“Do you want to go exploring?” She asked, and I replied “yes” very quickly.
We left the tent with only our goggles on, and continued carrying on through the desert with the sand cutting into our flesh lightly. The sun seemed ever closer, though I told myself it must be further, and the heat tried to dry the sand onto us like concrete. We continued into the endless day until we were back at our tent. It appeared that this was a small, globular place. In order to get any sort of exercise, we circled our tiny planet a few more times.
My companion took me back to the tent and we again sat. She looked tired, beneath all the sand, and she breathed heavily. We had not walked far enough for her to be so exhausted, but the heat seemed to affect her more than it did me.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked. “I can get your water bottle, if you want.”
“Just lay by me,” she pleaded, and I did, because she sounded so miserable and we had only just arrived.
She brought her fingers so that they were only a few centimeters from mine, and I worried that she might forget herself. I coughed to remind her, and she pulled away, standing abruptly to look down at me. “Why do you have to look so handsome?” She asked. She probably would have screamed this question if sand had not been hardening in her throat, stealing away her voice.
“I look like I always looked,” I replied, and I too stood. Her eyes continued to trail me. “Why would I appear any differently?”
She shook her head. “It’s just so hard.”
I nodded and wanted to approach her, but kept my distance. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, but then I admitted, “I seem to have forgotten your name.”
I had expected her to be surprised or even angrily shocked by this news, but she just sighed, quietly, to herself. “Of course you have,” she replied.
“Why?” I asked. “I don’t remember anything.”
“You seem to remember some of it,” she countered, and she approached me again.
“You can’t touch me,” I explained, voicing what we both knew.
“My name is Anne,” she said quietly, “but you’ll forget it again. You always do. They made it a little bit easier for you.”
I wanted to touch her, it filled my mind and it killed me that I could not fulfill the one action we both longed for. “How did we get here? I don’t remember. Why do you remember?”
“Because I killed you, Peter,” she exclaimed, and she threw up her hands in irritation, though I was unable to discern whether it was aimed at me or herself, “And I had to go where they send people who kill those the one they love.”
“Why did you kill me?” I asked, somehow calm.
“I don’t know, I just did!” She began pacing the tiny tent, small circles. “And you were there, after they pumped sodium thiopental into my veins, waiting. You’d been waiting. They said you wanted to be with me, despite everything.”
“I don’t remember any of this.”
“They didn’t want you to remember. It was too awful and you didn’t do anything wrong and it’s more painful for me, having to keep telling you all this! It was too wonderful for me to get to have you again.” She looked at me, and she might have had tears, through she just looked shimmery to me.
I thought for a moment, and felt that I had known this, somewhere inside all along. Yet, I had forgotten. And, she claimed that I would forget again. I couldn’t believe that I could forget this sort of thing, and yet, it wasn’t a matter of thought. “How long have we been here?” I asked, for it had only been half a day for me.
“Forever,” she said, and she cackled piteously. “I don’t know how long. We keep putting up the tent and tearing it down, and food keeps reappearing. And our clothes. And you keep getting mesmerized by the shimmers and saying the exact same things. And I can’t even touch you, or they’ll take you away from me.”
“I wish I could touch you,” I said.
“Me too,” she replied.
I considered her for a moment. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, but then I admitted, “I seem to have forgotten your name.”
It was brighter than I had imagined, the light so intense that I had to shield my eyes with my hand and look at the ground. The dirt below me shimmered, as though someone had mixed in glitter with the soil, and this shimmery dirt caught in the wind occasionally and carried through the air, giving everything the illusion of being an illusion. It smelt old. Although I know this description is vague and offers little, it is exactly as I felt, as though I were entering some ancient library, sealed off for hundreds of years and preserved until my entrance. It was a hot sort of old smell, the heat slightly above the temperatures reached in even the highest regions of Earth.
EDIT: Apparently, by posting on Nanowrimo's website, I am copyrighted, thus,
Copyright 2008 Amanda Martin
Edit 2: How did my spellcheck not catch "shiny" spelt "shiney"? Oh.... now it does... weird. Silly glitches.
*Images in Philosophy*
The prof. used a lot of references today to get us to understand what Nishitani was really talking about when he defined religion in his essay. These are not pleasant references (although sometimes amusingish), but I'll put them here for your viewing pleasure (reading pleasure?). Basically, Nishitani says that the starting point for really experiencing what he means by "religion" (which, btw, cannot include ego) is true despair, generally through one's death (or supposed death) or the death of a loved one. That point when the question becomes not "does God exist?" or "what use is God to me?" but a reference to one's own existence without the distinction between "I" and everything else.
He used a Jewish saying in class to explain this (actually, I can't find it online, but he said it was Jewish... maybe a famous rabbi said it?). I shall paraphrase (because I can't find it, aka am Google failure): "The moment of my death, I ask 'Who was I, so busy, so important,' and God laughing 'No.'"
... I guess I didn't get it down very well, but you have the gist. Right? It reminds me of Watchmen:
Rorschach's Journal. October 12th, 1985. Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save us!' And I'll look down, and whisper 'no.' They had a choice, all of them.
Anyway, another example he gave was Roman Polanski's version of Macbeth when Macbeth sees the forest marching toward him, a symbol of his approaching and inevitable death. Acc. the prof, only Polanski or someone who had experienced what he had could so well depict this scene, having known the feeling of losing everything (Macbeth's wife's just killed herself as well- recall) when his pregnant wife was killed by the Manson family.
The last example is from Seventh Seal by Bergman. I could only find it sans subtitles, so I'm putting a translation of the scene first. Basically the fellow who "stabs" himself cuckolded one of the other men (Skat) and fakes his death to get away. He is pretty happy to have survived, but, as this scene shows, there's no cheating death:
JOF
He's dead, totally, enormously dead. In fact,
I've never seen such a dead actor.
LISA
Come on, let's go. This is nothing to mourn
over. He has only himself to blame.
PLOG
And I have to be married to her.
JONS
We must go on.
SKAT lies in the grass and keeps the dagger pressed tightly to his breast.
The travelers depart and soon they have disappeared into the dark forest on
the other side of the meadow. When SKAT is sure that no one can see him, he
sits up and lifts the dagger from his breast. It is a stage dagger with a
blade that pushes into the handle. SKAT laughs to himself.
SKAT
Now that was a good scene. I'm really a good
actor. After all, why shouldn't I be a little
pleased with myself? But where shall I go? I'll
wait until it becomes light and then I'll find
the easiest way out of the forest. I'll climb
up a tree for the time being so that no bears,
wolves or ghosts can get at me.
He soon finds a likely tree and climbs up into its thick foliage. He sits
down as comfortably as possible and reaches for his food pouch.
SKAT
(yawns)
Tomorrow I'll find Jof and Mia and then we'll
go to the saints' feast in Elsinore. We'll make
lots of money there.
(yawns)
Now, I'll sing a little song to myself:
(sings)
I am a little bird
Who sings whate'er he will,
And when I am in danger
I fling out a pissing trill
As in the carnal thrill.
(speaks)
It's boring to be alone in the forest tonight.
(sings)
The terrible night doesn't frighten me ...
He interrupts himself and listens. The sound of industrious sawing is heard
through the silence.
SKAT
Workmen in the forest. Oh, well!
(sings)
The terrible night doesn't frighten me ...
(speaks)
Hey, what the devil ... it's my tree they're
cutting down.
He peers through the foliage. Below him stands a dark figure diligently
sawing away at the base of the tree. SKAT becomes frightened and angry.
SKAT
Hey, you! Do you hear me, you tricky bastard?
What are you doing with my tree?
The sawing continues without a pause. SKAT becomes more frightened.
SKAT
Can't you at least answer me? Politeness costs
so little. Who are you?
DEATH straightens his back and squints up at him. SKAT cries out in terror.
DEATH
I'm sawing down your tree because your time is
up.
SKAT
It won't do. I haven't got time.
DEATH
So you haven't got time.
SKAT
No, I have my performance.
DEATH
Then it's canceled because of death.
SKAT
My contract.
DEATH
Your contract is terminated.
SKAT
My children, my family.
DEATH
Shame on you, Skat!
SKAT
Yes, I'm ashamed.
DEATH begins to saw again. The tree creaks.
SKAT
Isn't there any way to get off? Aren't there
any special rules for actors?
DEATH
No, not in this case.
SKAT
No loopholes, no exceptions?
DEATH saws.
SKAT
Perhaps you'll take a bribe.
DEATH saws.
SKAT
Help!
DEATH saws.
SKAT
Help! Help!
The tree falls. The forest becomes silent again.
At some point, I need to post something more original here, rather than depending on famous directors. Hrm.
<3
Edit: Actually has the translation now- d'oh!
He used a Jewish saying in class to explain this (actually, I can't find it online, but he said it was Jewish... maybe a famous rabbi said it?). I shall paraphrase (because I can't find it, aka am Google failure): "The moment of my death, I ask 'Who was I, so busy, so important,' and God laughing 'No.'"
... I guess I didn't get it down very well, but you have the gist. Right? It reminds me of Watchmen:
Rorschach's Journal. October 12th, 1985. Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save us!' And I'll look down, and whisper 'no.' They had a choice, all of them.
Anyway, another example he gave was Roman Polanski's version of Macbeth when Macbeth sees the forest marching toward him, a symbol of his approaching and inevitable death. Acc. the prof, only Polanski or someone who had experienced what he had could so well depict this scene, having known the feeling of losing everything (Macbeth's wife's just killed herself as well- recall) when his pregnant wife was killed by the Manson family.
The last example is from Seventh Seal by Bergman. I could only find it sans subtitles, so I'm putting a translation of the scene first. Basically the fellow who "stabs" himself cuckolded one of the other men (Skat) and fakes his death to get away. He is pretty happy to have survived, but, as this scene shows, there's no cheating death:
JOF
He's dead, totally, enormously dead. In fact,
I've never seen such a dead actor.
LISA
Come on, let's go. This is nothing to mourn
over. He has only himself to blame.
PLOG
And I have to be married to her.
JONS
We must go on.
SKAT lies in the grass and keeps the dagger pressed tightly to his breast.
The travelers depart and soon they have disappeared into the dark forest on
the other side of the meadow. When SKAT is sure that no one can see him, he
sits up and lifts the dagger from his breast. It is a stage dagger with a
blade that pushes into the handle. SKAT laughs to himself.
SKAT
Now that was a good scene. I'm really a good
actor. After all, why shouldn't I be a little
pleased with myself? But where shall I go? I'll
wait until it becomes light and then I'll find
the easiest way out of the forest. I'll climb
up a tree for the time being so that no bears,
wolves or ghosts can get at me.
He soon finds a likely tree and climbs up into its thick foliage. He sits
down as comfortably as possible and reaches for his food pouch.
SKAT
(yawns)
Tomorrow I'll find Jof and Mia and then we'll
go to the saints' feast in Elsinore. We'll make
lots of money there.
(yawns)
Now, I'll sing a little song to myself:
(sings)
I am a little bird
Who sings whate'er he will,
And when I am in danger
I fling out a pissing trill
As in the carnal thrill.
(speaks)
It's boring to be alone in the forest tonight.
(sings)
The terrible night doesn't frighten me ...
He interrupts himself and listens. The sound of industrious sawing is heard
through the silence.
SKAT
Workmen in the forest. Oh, well!
(sings)
The terrible night doesn't frighten me ...
(speaks)
Hey, what the devil ... it's my tree they're
cutting down.
He peers through the foliage. Below him stands a dark figure diligently
sawing away at the base of the tree. SKAT becomes frightened and angry.
SKAT
Hey, you! Do you hear me, you tricky bastard?
What are you doing with my tree?
The sawing continues without a pause. SKAT becomes more frightened.
SKAT
Can't you at least answer me? Politeness costs
so little. Who are you?
DEATH straightens his back and squints up at him. SKAT cries out in terror.
DEATH
I'm sawing down your tree because your time is
up.
SKAT
It won't do. I haven't got time.
DEATH
So you haven't got time.
SKAT
No, I have my performance.
DEATH
Then it's canceled because of death.
SKAT
My contract.
DEATH
Your contract is terminated.
SKAT
My children, my family.
DEATH
Shame on you, Skat!
SKAT
Yes, I'm ashamed.
DEATH begins to saw again. The tree creaks.
SKAT
Isn't there any way to get off? Aren't there
any special rules for actors?
DEATH
No, not in this case.
SKAT
No loopholes, no exceptions?
DEATH saws.
SKAT
Perhaps you'll take a bribe.
DEATH saws.
SKAT
Help!
DEATH saws.
SKAT
Help! Help!
The tree falls. The forest becomes silent again.
At some point, I need to post something more original here, rather than depending on famous directors. Hrm.
<3
Edit: Actually has the translation now- d'oh!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
*Philosophizing is Rough*
So is the teacher's syllabus. Do I need to do a precis? Or not...? Don't want to but the uncertainty of it all makes it certain- gah! Through listening to the radio one may encounter the presence of the omnipotent being but, if not, then she shall encounter nihilism. If not, then by not experiencing nihilism she is experiencing nihilism. Oy.
My Chicano/a Lit teacher was not there but a sub gave us the syllabi. I should probably read that... we did crazy free writing exercises, which is never good when you're PMSing. Hrm.
I already knew the other prof. Must study UN-ness and become International Rights guru. Or at least get an A. Really, I suppose an A is not necessary either. Hoorah for un-lofty goals.
And back to work we go.
Reading: The same things as yesterday, only have finished the chapter in Religion and Nothingness, though am not content that I know it so much as it knows me. What?!
<3
Music: Random Au Revoir Simone songs.
Oh, here is a poem by Chrystos read in class today (she's an American Indian poet):
In the scars of my knees you can see
children torn from their families
bludgeoned into government schools
You can see through the pins in my bones
That we are prisoners of a long war
My knee is so badly wounded no one will look at it
The pus of past oozes from every pore
This infection has gone on for at least 300 years
Our sacred beliefs have been made into pencils
names of cities gas stations
My knee is wounded so badly that I limp constantly
Anger is my crutch I hold myself upright with it
My knee is wounded
See
How I Am Still Walking
My Chicano/a Lit teacher was not there but a sub gave us the syllabi. I should probably read that... we did crazy free writing exercises, which is never good when you're PMSing. Hrm.
I already knew the other prof. Must study UN-ness and become International Rights guru. Or at least get an A. Really, I suppose an A is not necessary either. Hoorah for un-lofty goals.
And back to work we go.
Reading: The same things as yesterday, only have finished the chapter in Religion and Nothingness, though am not content that I know it so much as it knows me. What?!
<3
Music: Random Au Revoir Simone songs.
Oh, here is a poem by Chrystos read in class today (she's an American Indian poet):
In the scars of my knees you can see
children torn from their families
bludgeoned into government schools
You can see through the pins in my bones
That we are prisoners of a long war
My knee is so badly wounded no one will look at it
The pus of past oozes from every pore
This infection has gone on for at least 300 years
Our sacred beliefs have been made into pencils
names of cities gas stations
My knee is wounded so badly that I limp constantly
Anger is my crutch I hold myself upright with it
My knee is wounded
See
How I Am Still Walking
Monday, March 30, 2009
*Ah, So THAT'S How I Managed to Keep a Daily Blog for So Long*
App. school just does it to you. You're studying and studying and studying and then you wonder how much more of this nonsense your brain can take before turning into tofu (raw, not fried, is the image I get). Suddenly! Inspiration! Attacks! I shall procrastinate, weeeee! And the best way is to tell yourself you are doing it for the good of others (i.e. you, my gentle readers), which, of necessity (or so I think?) leads to blogging.
Am genius of words? Wordsmith deluxe?
First day of class was today, and there was only the one. Just Philosophy. Which was enough, I think. The teacher seems v. nice (I like his voice) and is handsome (I think everyone's good looking, if you didn't know, esp. Charlie Chaplin- rawr... though not anymore given that he's all corpsey.... bad joke). However, studying this Nishitani "What is Religion?"-ness does strange, unpleasant things to aforementioned brain. Like make it work hard. I think working on the New York Times crossword is enough bullying for one day. But the Fates seem to disagree.
Silly Fates.
Will update on status of other classes tomorrow. Let us hope they do not turn out to be death on wheels. Why on wheels? Because my brain's halfway to being a delicacy, is why.
But enough of this mumbo-jumbo (that's not the term I was thinking of...), I must to work return get. And brain to tofu electrify! Huzzah!
<3
p.s. just finished Caramelo and read all of Mother Tongue by Ramirez (???? did I pull that from a random crevasse in my skull?)
Reading (now): Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel (for Meetup Bookclub thing), Religion and Nothingness by Nishitani for Philosophy (which I can only endorse as a fine tofu-maker... though my tofu brain has yet to be sampled, thank God. There's never a Hanibal Lector around when you need one???)
Listening to: Walkin'- Miles Davis (he doesn't distract, which isn't a compliment, really...)
EDIT: Am liar to nth degree. Too tired to continue. Must instead get up 1/2 hr earlier than was plan. Le gr. Have not finished enough. However, can in future split up phil readings so as to prevent insanity (hoorah!) and reading other-ness in between, in manner of Grace Kelly. Though perhaps ever so slightly less elegant under pressure. (If you got the reference, then extra <3)
Am genius of words? Wordsmith deluxe?
First day of class was today, and there was only the one. Just Philosophy. Which was enough, I think. The teacher seems v. nice (I like his voice) and is handsome (I think everyone's good looking, if you didn't know, esp. Charlie Chaplin- rawr... though not anymore given that he's all corpsey.... bad joke). However, studying this Nishitani "What is Religion?"-ness does strange, unpleasant things to aforementioned brain. Like make it work hard. I think working on the New York Times crossword is enough bullying for one day. But the Fates seem to disagree.
Silly Fates.
Will update on status of other classes tomorrow. Let us hope they do not turn out to be death on wheels. Why on wheels? Because my brain's halfway to being a delicacy, is why.
But enough of this mumbo-jumbo (that's not the term I was thinking of...), I must to work return get. And brain to tofu electrify! Huzzah!
<3
p.s. just finished Caramelo and read all of Mother Tongue by Ramirez (???? did I pull that from a random crevasse in my skull?)
Reading (now): Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel (for Meetup Bookclub thing), Religion and Nothingness by Nishitani for Philosophy (which I can only endorse as a fine tofu-maker... though my tofu brain has yet to be sampled, thank God. There's never a Hanibal Lector around when you need one???)
Listening to: Walkin'- Miles Davis (he doesn't distract, which isn't a compliment, really...)
EDIT: Am liar to nth degree. Too tired to continue. Must instead get up 1/2 hr earlier than was plan. Le gr. Have not finished enough. However, can in future split up phil readings so as to prevent insanity (hoorah!) and reading other-ness in between, in manner of Grace Kelly. Though perhaps ever so slightly less elegant under pressure. (If you got the reference, then extra <3)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
*Garfield Minus Garfield
You've probably heard of this thing because it seems to be getting a lot of attention (esp. in the comicstrip industry) but I thought this one in particular was hilarious:
It's a strip where they post Garfield comics but delete Garfield himself from the strip. Is sometimes v. amusing (Jon always seems so existential).
Send me amusing things like this because I shall need them with the school up and starting again. Do not want to write zillion page paper on Mahayana Buddhism. Esp. from a teacher who doesn't specify that it'll be about Zen Buddhism, more particularly. Esp. from a philosophical vs. religious perspective. Whine, moan, kick and scream.
My tantrum is complete.
Have read a million.5 books and cannot thing when last I told you what I'd been reading, so here are some, in reverse order of when I read them:
The Alchemist
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Sharp Teeth
Watchmen
Wolf Boy
?
Am currently reading Caramelo for Emerging Subjectivity in Chicano/Chicana Literature (a class), which I'm mostly taking because it was all that was available at the necessary time (because I had to sign up for another class first because they told me I needed it because they are bad at their jobs, which, as I see it, is to help me). Goodness glaciers, this book is unpleasant. And 400+ pages (I am addicted to books that are under 200 pages, such as The Alchemist and the Perks of Being a Wallflower), though the next novel for that class (and by "next" I mean only other one that has arrived from Amazon yet because of massive errors and them not sending them until today grrrrr, what the heck did I do 3-day deliver for anyway if it takes 5+ days?) is less than 200 pages- huzzah!
Other class will be on Human Rights... don't remember course title actually but had teacher before and got A easily. Am hoping she has not been transformed into Nazi-type in last year. Let us pray.
V. churchlike.
Might post a short story on here. Going to try to edit it tomorrow and then maybe will put it up so you'll read it and tell me I'm brilliant because, really, what else could you say? Really. (Hint: Constructive criticism = death to my heart). Jk?
Bebita is getting big- saw another newborn (is Amelia still a newborn technically or now an official "infant" or are newborns infants as well? Oh the tech of it all. I like to say Amelia with a Spanish accent ^_____^ and add Bedelia). In Caramelo they refer to loved ones as mi cielo (my sky) in reference to Heaven. Isn't that sweet?
Or, isn't my Spanish rotten/I probably forgot and ruined it all- glah!
<3
It's a strip where they post Garfield comics but delete Garfield himself from the strip. Is sometimes v. amusing (Jon always seems so existential).
Send me amusing things like this because I shall need them with the school up and starting again. Do not want to write zillion page paper on Mahayana Buddhism. Esp. from a teacher who doesn't specify that it'll be about Zen Buddhism, more particularly. Esp. from a philosophical vs. religious perspective. Whine, moan, kick and scream.
My tantrum is complete.
Have read a million.5 books and cannot thing when last I told you what I'd been reading, so here are some, in reverse order of when I read them:
The Alchemist
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Sharp Teeth
Watchmen
Wolf Boy
?
Am currently reading Caramelo for Emerging Subjectivity in Chicano/Chicana Literature (a class), which I'm mostly taking because it was all that was available at the necessary time (because I had to sign up for another class first because they told me I needed it because they are bad at their jobs, which, as I see it, is to help me). Goodness glaciers, this book is unpleasant. And 400+ pages (I am addicted to books that are under 200 pages, such as The Alchemist and the Perks of Being a Wallflower), though the next novel for that class (and by "next" I mean only other one that has arrived from Amazon yet because of massive errors and them not sending them until today grrrrr, what the heck did I do 3-day deliver for anyway if it takes 5+ days?) is less than 200 pages- huzzah!
Other class will be on Human Rights... don't remember course title actually but had teacher before and got A easily. Am hoping she has not been transformed into Nazi-type in last year. Let us pray.
V. churchlike.
Might post a short story on here. Going to try to edit it tomorrow and then maybe will put it up so you'll read it and tell me I'm brilliant because, really, what else could you say? Really. (Hint: Constructive criticism = death to my heart). Jk?
Bebita is getting big- saw another newborn (is Amelia still a newborn technically or now an official "infant" or are newborns infants as well? Oh the tech of it all. I like to say Amelia with a Spanish accent ^_____^ and add Bedelia). In Caramelo they refer to loved ones as mi cielo (my sky) in reference to Heaven. Isn't that sweet?
Or, isn't my Spanish rotten/I probably forgot and ruined it all- glah!
<3
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
*Fill in the Blank Days with Baby*
Because that's pretty much what's been going on. I'm not putting any more pictures here because I don't want random people on the internet to see her cuteness to the extreme and kidnap her before raising her to be a magician's assistant. That's no life- believe me. V. violent getting chopped into pieces three times a day then reassembled.
Been trying to keep up with Joss Whedon's new show, Dollhouse, which you can watch on Hulu if YOU want. Tentatively liking it (have been burned by mid-season cancellation's before v.v). How nervous!
Without stating otherness, I am now officially planning to attend UW-Bothell's MACS program next year. Oh, fellowship- come to meeeee! Moneys- ugh.
I want to see some movies. Instead, I think I'll rent everything that starts with Q from the library and be silently impressed. Why silent? It sounded pretty in my silly head.
Quest for Camelot is the first Q-starting movie that popped into my head. What else, without cheating?
The Queen
...
I'm bad at this game!
<3
Been trying to keep up with Joss Whedon's new show, Dollhouse, which you can watch on Hulu if YOU want. Tentatively liking it (have been burned by mid-season cancellation's before v.v). How nervous!
Without stating otherness, I am now officially planning to attend UW-Bothell's MACS program next year. Oh, fellowship- come to meeeee! Moneys- ugh.
I want to see some movies. Instead, I think I'll rent everything that starts with Q from the library and be silently impressed. Why silent? It sounded pretty in my silly head.
Quest for Camelot is the first Q-starting movie that popped into my head. What else, without cheating?
The Queen
...
I'm bad at this game!
<3
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