Week 8 Assignments

Writing Assignment

Choose One:
1) Write a story or one-act play that unfolds backwards in time, revealing new information or changing the way we understand the events of the narrative present.

2) Write a story or play where the structure and the use of time reflect each other. Carefully plan your narrative moment so that you can successfully trick your readers into believing they know where they stand in the timeline of the story. No more than two pages.


Read for Next Week
Anna In the Tropics, Nilo Cruz
Time, Anne Bogart (from And The, You Act) pg. 37 in the Course Reader


Blog
1. Post an entry about any one of the readings this week. This may be a critical or creative piece of about 200-300 words. It MUST respond to your chosen reading in some way, either by identifying and discussing craft elements, themes, or techniques or by using those elements in a creative response.

2. Post comments on at least three other entries. Remember, this is not a place for critiquing each other’s work. Instead, identify something from the piece that strikes or interests you, ask a neutral question about the work, or suggest ways the author could deepen or expand it.

Juliette Details!

Hi Folks,
Just a reminder that we'll be going to see Juliette tomorrow night.

* The show starts at 8 PM on campus. We'll meet in our classroom, and then go over there as a group at about 7:40. Make sure to arrive in our classroom by then so that you can get your ticket!

* The director, Mark Jackson, will be on hand after the performance to talk with the crowd and answer questions. Plan to stay for the conversation if you can - it should be quite interesting!

* If you know you cannot make the show for some reason, please let me know, and I will offer your ticket to others who may want to bring a date. If someone wants it, you'll get your money back!

* Here are a few links to information about the show, and some of the ideas behind the way it was created. Please take a look if you have time!
http://www.sfsu.edu/~sfsumag/archive/fall_09/campus5.html
http://theatre.sfsu.edu/blog/2009/08/05/355-audition-juliet
http://www.sixviewpoints.com/Theory_3.html

I'm looking forward to seeing the show with all of you tomorrow!

Week 7 Assignments

Midterm Paper
Due in class Thursday, March 18!!


Writing Assignment
1) Write a poem, short story, or one-act play based in some way on Romeo & Juliette. For example, you could set the story in another time, place, or situation (as in West Side Story), you could write about or from the point of view of one of the secondary characters, or you could take one scene or moment and expanding that to a full-length piece. You can find the play online at: http://shakespeare.mit.edu/romeo_juliet/full.html


Read for March 25 (2 Weeks from Now)
Anna In the Tropics, Nilo Cruz


Blog
1. No blog posts this week – work on your midterm!

the colonel :narrative and prose

I have often found that when conveying certain types of emotion, written is far more potent than spoken. In written form you can come off sounding far more eloquent, articulating differently in inner dialogue or in something that is to be read than aloud. With the "Colonel" we are able to see in depth far more details of what is happening through narration. Forche is able to go back and forth from seeing images then explaining what they resemble. It is repetitive and bounces around to various thought process like most people do in real life when making observations. Going from noticing a cop on the TV back to real life. On the page next to the piece it talks about being able to take prose essentially out of every novel. Below I have taken sections from David Sedaris’ book “When You Are Engulfed in Flames”  and formed it into a poem with persona original works.

In times of weakness , sitting in that hot little room, stress and it’s connection to stress

pg. 278,279 

pounding hearts, that nervousness like you are set a flame with anticipation

and how your body would steam if were cooled even a few temperatures 

you hear the screams , and notice the dew upon the cobble stone ground and take a deep breath and come back to that feeling of never ending situations of disaster.

Creative Response to the Colonel

What you have heard is rumor. I didn't see a thing. The Bride never left her Vanity. Her mother sat at her side, draping pearls, he father, nursed a cigar in the walkway of the Church. Cream linens adorned the pews, anchored by wired ribbons gripping pink tulips and baby's breath. The sun spilled rainbow shapes through stained glass windows, the likeness of the Virgin distorted as she fell to the leather shoes of the Groom. The Old Women retired to the balconies above with ornate hand fans and whispers. The Minister rotated the Bible in his palms. The Groom and his Brother argued mutedly at the altar. When one would challenge, the candles stilled, when the other contended, the candles danced. The Brother pulled a pocket notebook from the Groom's jacked and dropped it to the tile. Fuck you the Groom said. A handkerchief had fallen too, and spilled a lock of hair, tied pristinely with a scrap of lavender ribbon. But not just one lock. Two, three, four locks. Lavender ribbon for the chestnut brunette, yellow for the jet black, royal blue for the golden blond, kelly green for the locks of deep amber. The brother dropped his foot onto the locks of hair. Something for your vows, no? he said. Some of the hairs on the floor struggled under the weight, slithering to escape. Some of the hairs bore into the Church floor.

The colonel

I attempted to re-write the colonel from his perspective....HERE IT IS!


Yes I allowed it. They were in my house. They saw my family. Sat on my couch. She seemed distracted by the broken bottles and security bars but shortly after her attention was to the television. We had dinner, rack of lamb, good wine, green mangoes, salt, and mint cake. I asked them how they enjoyed the country. She was distracted again by the television. My wife took everything away. I then spoke to them about how difficult it had become to govern. Fernandez wouldn't shut up. I went to get the sack. I spilled them all over the table. Prettier than I remembered. I put on the usual act. Even dropped one in her water. I was tired of fooling around. They can go fuck themselves. I toasted the last of my wine. I wish every last one of them could hear it.

Pet Milk - Analysis

Pet Milk by Stuart Dybeck charts a character's development from a single, isolated personal fact outward. The narrator mentions his drinking coffee with Pet milk and watching it snow. Although neither of these actions intrinsically provide any genuine characterization, they both immediately segue into much more personal material. The narrator tells us why he uses the milk, that it is for aesthetic reasons and moves into a memory of his grandmother, and how the milk then is the same as that of the sky in snowing sky, and how that sky is the same as in a King Alfonse, a drink he and his girlfriend Kate shared. He then discribes the more basic elements of their relationship, their hobbies and relation to the drink. This description moves into very general events, giving the reader the feel for their relationship and their average interaction before finally moving into a scene that takes place concretely within time: specifically on the narrator's birthday. The scene plays out, and eventually the two board a subway train and begin to make love in the car. However, the story ends, in a way, as it began - with a single, characterizing detail largely divorced in itself from the rest of the piece (the boy at the train stop). The piece almost feels like an experiment in characterization, and in that way I myself would like to use its general structure as an exercise myself.

The Colonel

I've always been fascinated by dictators, renegade commanders, and the warlords of lesser developed/historical nations. One that always peaked my interest was Mussolini. When I was in middle school my father had me read The Secret of Santa Vittoria; this is a fictional story about a town in Italy during Mussolini's reign that produces wine, it is pretty much their only source of revenue and the government demands a substantial portion of it. Without going into details I vaguely recall; the story talks about the tortures he inflicted upon dissenting citizens (whether these were invented by the author or not is irrelevant), these ranged from being buried in the snow naked up to their necks to electrocution. The torture itself doesn't fascinate me, it is the mind set of the torturer and those who order then to commit such acts. What struck me in this piece was how casually the author seems to mention the broken bottles in the wall and later how dramatically the Colonel strews the ears upon the table. I think these aspects of brutality say a lot about the character especially since they are juxtaposed by what otherwise seem to be normal behavior such as the details of his wife, daughter, son, and meal, as well as the casually referenced pistol on the cushion and relative normalcy of a situation that at the core is an act of intimidation. I feel I'm not being entirely clear in expressing myself so here's the short of it: I love how the author calmly tells a detailed tale of a horrendous experience, I thought it gave me insight into the mind of the Colonel, these atrocities are so incorporated into his life that he can dine in a room with torture devices in the wall and toast above a pile of ears. The question i'm left with is: how does someone become like that? If some have that capacity then don't we all? I'm reminded of a question posed by the Flaming Lips, with all your power what would you do?

The Net

The Net is a play which has tons of back story plushed in with a simple tone of dialogue. We get basically a psycholigical profile of Alfonso just from the little things he says. The relationship with him and the "flatfoot" trying to save him has an offset feeling. The feelings of Alfonso's past give a dynamic sense oof why he is now attempting suicide. His passion for dancing and injury drive him to end his life. The two strangers start creating a friendship through their situation. Alfonso is annoyed with Stuart but in the end falls to help him. "Stuart catches the hat and Alfonso falls"

Jason Yelland

The Setup

"I didn't kill him."
"I know."
"We need to find somewhere to hide, the police are going to come looking for me soon enough."
"Where do you suggest?"
"Do you have an office? Somwhere?"
"Yeah... uh, we can't go there."
"Why not?"
"Uh... renovating."
"Fuck. Ok, we're going to Bunker Hill. Why are you helping me?"
"Let's just say we have mutual friends."

About an hour later, they had arrived.

"This is perfect."
"Listen, I just need to call my boyfriend and tell him I'll be home late."
"No. No phone calls. How do I know I can trust you?"
"You have no choice."

Silence.

"Let me just call my boyfriend. He'll be worried. And who knows, you could have another charge against you. Kidnapping."
"I've never kidnapped anyone."
"I'll just be a second."

About fifteen minutes after the call, the police had arrived, and he was going to jail for the murder of his wife.

Pet Milk

Okay, for starters I have to get it out. I have been drinking evaporated milk with my coffee for several years, I have attempted to get people into it, they say they will and never do, they always go back to their half and half, I hope this story inspires someone to give it a try if they are coffee drinkers (I recommend Santini brand, but I will definitely try Pet milk now)
With that out of the way, I loved this story. I thought that it was beautiful how Dybek allowed this story to follow a memory in what I think is a realistic way. He's drinking coffee with Pet Milk, it reminds him how his grandmother did it in the past, how he liked the way it looked, then it instantly took him to a restaurant where he used to get an alcoholic beverage that had the same swirl that coffee did with pet milk, and then we are instantly in a fun love story. At first read I had a hard time relating how his grandmother drinking evaporated milk with coffee had anything to do with him having goodbye sex with his girlfriend on a train, but then I realized that maybe it didn't have anything to do with it, it was just what triggered the memory. I thought this way of transitioning into the story was effective and inspired me to write a story on a memory triggering a memory that triggers more memories. That might only be interesting for myself, still I am inspired to try.

"Pet Milk"

“Pet Milk” by Stuart Dybek is a wonderful short story that encompasses intimate moments between two lovers about to embark on the journey of adulthood. Dybek’s voice is playful and uplifting, which is refreshing to read. Personally, I felt that his use of “Pet milk” in the story was a metaphor for the sensation of love. Kate, who is the narrarator’s girlfriend, is this sensation personified. I found that this story is easy to relate to anyone who has ever experienced romance, even if merely a high school date. Additionally, I found it was easy to relate to as a young college student since it illustrates the transition from youth to becoming a “professional” in the real world. “Pet Milk” is a story that moves quickly, which I felt reflected the romance and passion Dybek was trying to portray. Small details such as “She had lovely knees” were such small moments that gave the story so much character and realness. As the story concludes with them in a moment of passion on the train, this lasting image seems to be a beacon of hope. As we may grow older and go on, these moments of love live forever.

The Colonel Imitation

Hey all. So, here is my attempt at copying the style of "The Colonel". I believe I failed, but hey, I guess that's creative writing for ya.

Wonderland's Waiting Room

What you have heard: it is false. I may have slipped, but I never hit my head. I fell too long. The ground welcomed me after crashing through the ceiling. I sat up. There was blood pouring from my knee in a crimson torrent of passion. Around me, a bizarre décor. There were doors surrounding me of nightmares and dreams. Clocks had wedged themselves into the dirt. They go counter-clockwise, until time is irrelevant. It is just a passing fancy. The glass table is round with ornate legs. It looks as if an author had penned them from cursive. The bottle was meant to be consumed, so I did. Upon shrinking, the checkerboard ceiling appeared a gigantic game with debris acting as the pieces. I found the right nightmare, acquired the correct key, and I opened the door. Stepping through the threshold, I found a ground that existed in my mind. Its pebbles were memories. Its stones were dreams. The brilliance of the sun reflecting off the giant face-flowers blinded me. I felt myself on the brink of war: did I hit my head? Can this be reality? A pinch did nothing to stir the world from being. Compared to the dim reaches of the waiting room, the air around me sang. The air always sings in Wonderland.

The Bucket Rider

This was my favorite piece that we read this week. I attacked it after reading the article on "Lightness" and am glad I did. After the quote "I must have coal; I cannot freeze to death." I had the gut feeling that the narrator had already frozen to death and the rest of the story is his spirit's progression towards "the regions of the ice mountains." The speaker has already been swallowed by his cold environment his voice nonexistant, as it is "burned by the frost and muffled in the cloud made by [his] breath." And after the reading the lecture of "Lightness" in regards to this piece, I feel as if he is as light as a spirit, his actions unnoticed by the living, though he was able to reach out to the Coaldealer through his desperate energy. The wife, shaking out her apron outside before going to bed, wafts the speaker away where he is "lost forever."

Perhaps I'm wrong but this was my thought process in approaching this short story.

COMMENTS:

Andi Smith: I agree, the transition in Pet Milk from the grandmother's coffee to the cocktail at the restaurant was deeply profound in how our thoughts connect through the web of memory.

Hilaryyyyyyyy: Thank you for saving me Google time. I was going to look as soon as I finished the story because I was a a bit confused by the label myself. Though, I feel that the initial memory of the grandmother worked as a transition from the present to the past memory with Kate.

Kate: Your analysis on tone was excellent. I had not consciously realized the word pairs of "bucket-empty" "shovel-useless" etc. though your keen eye picked them out. Thanks!

Creative Response to the Net

Shadows

House Tenant: If anyone is there I can see you, and leave me alone!

Ghost: You see me? I always knew you could.

House Tenant: I live with my mom and sister and none of them can see you.

Ghost: I guess I am just haunting you.

House Tenant: Who are you? What is your name?

Ghost: I don't remember, but I can change my shape at will.

House Tenant: Was that you shaking the floor last night?

Ghost: Probably.

House Tenant: Ghosts are here because the're lost and not at peace.

Ghost: I don't know, all I know is I can see you.
I can turn into an eagle or a rabbit with long fangs.

House Tenant: Why are you here? I'm glad I can not see your deceased self.

Ghost: I wish you could, that would be a frightening sight.

House Tenant: I remember seeing shadows on the ceiling that where not the trees dancing outside,

Ghost: I exist here to do this, I don't know why. I can change your perception of things around you see what I want you to see.

House Tenant: I guess that is why you do this.

Ghost: I guess.

Lightness

Lightness

I thought Calvino did a wonderful job of articulating such abstract and almost other-worldly notions in “Lightness”. His use of mythology to extrapolate meaning and symbolism that still embodies our present day ways of living was much appreciated. Most importantly, the specific subject matter of lightness vs. heaviness is one I find infinitely fascinating. One of the questions this aroused in me throughout the course of the reading was a thought that’s been reoccurring a lot for me over the past 4 months: are writer’s fated to feel the heaviness in its fuller weight than perhaps some of humanity? Is that what drives them on to write, to create, an act of almost transforming heaviness into lightness. Is writing the journey of that action, at least at times? I suppose the reverse often happens as well, something written lightly can have more weight than one can fathom when done at the hand of a skilled artist. I also greatly appreciate the inclusion of science’s version of weight and lightness. Calvino masterfully finds ways to expand what he is saying to such a large audience, spanning the topics of art and science, and merging them with this common theme of lightness.

Pet Milk

I really enjoyed reading "Pet Milk." I googled it, and on the can it's really PET Milk. I am not sure why Dybek made the choice to change the capitalization of the word, but think perhaps it has the effect of sweetening the image a bit. Pet milk makes me think of pet name, something sweet, and he uses the Pet Milk to evoke sweet memories from his past.

I sort of feel like Dybek shouldn't have included the memory of his grandmother in this story, the meat of it all lies with his memory of Kate, and as a whole I don't feel that the two memories converge that well.

One thing I cant stop wondering about, and maybe I'm just a sicko, is... is Pet Milk (the thick, off-white liquid) supposed to be present in the last scene of the story, on the train? I'm probably reading too much into the significance of the Pet Milk, though.

"The Bucket Rider" response

Kafka uses some interesting tactics in this piece, and I feel like it could be read on many different levels. After re-reading it several times I started to make sense of what he was trying to do.
The word choice of this piece has an intense effect on the way that it is read. From the beginning the descriptions are solid and short, almost cold, in order to reflect the bleakness of the situation. bucket- empty, shovel-useless, stove-cold, trees-rigid. The word "must" is repeated over and over again, which gives you the feel of a man's thought process when balancing on the edge of existence, almost creating a "begging" tone within the narration. The repetition in general, in the dialogue too, reflects this tone. I enjoy Kafka's surrealistic style, and had to look back and check the authors name after reading it. The way that he pairs common events, like going to ask for coal on a freezing day, with almost dreamlike images gives the reader a better sense of the statement he is making through his writing. Like others in the class, I pieced together that he is really discussing how susceptible we are to the influence of others in life. The influence of a single person and the decisions they make can determine, essentially, whether we live or die. The image of the bucket sliding along the ice is clearly a metaphor for this idea.

The Colonel

I thought this story paragraph poem, whatever you want to call it, was pretty interesting. It conveys a sense of danger and urgency almost, as can be seen with the line "My friend said to me with his eyes: say nothing". The first line, "what you have heard is true", suggests that no one really knows much about the Colonel, but the narrator is there in person and is able to confirm the rumors that the villagers have heard. We can see that the Colonel is not a benevolent ruler, he even yells at the parrot to shut up, an animal that most likely doesn't understand the meanings behind the words it mimics, and the Colonel thinks that people who believe they should have rights "can go fuck themselves". The comparison between the human ears and dried peach halves is extremely vivid and even after reading the story I still can't get the image out of my mind. While reading this story I couldn't help but wonder who the narrator could be, and how it is they were able to have dinner with such a tyrannical person.

Bucket Rider

Franz Kafka's The Bucket Rider seems to be commenting on the limited control of man as he tries to survive in a world that seems to be governed by chaos. This is evident by the fact that the man only wants coal but is denied in the end by the woman and is left to freeze to death. The world does seem to act around some order for the man could get coal if he had money, but its a chaotic one where his lack of money causes another human being to let him die. I thought it was interesting that Kafka was able to convey this limited control of man right in the very first sentence. The sentence is "Coal all spent; the bucket empty; the shovel useless; the stove breathing out cold; the room freezing; the trees outside the windows rigid, covered with rime; the sky a silver shield against anyone who looks for help from it." From this sentence one is presented with a series of unfortunate events that the man has to deal with. The long sentence and use of semicolons works to link these unfortunate circumstances to suggest that these events are linked together, albeit in a chaotic sort of way. The fact that as the sentence progresses, the scenarios get worse until the man is faced with mother nature itself, serves to suggest that he never stood a chance and that there was no way to avoid the position he has found himself in. In this way, Kafka is able to comment, in one sentence, on the futile nature of man as he tries to struggle to survive in a world governed by chaos.