A near death experience can make you introspective and sentimental, which comes across as kind of creepy if you're 12. At a ripe young age, being faced with your own mortality after a nice serving of sirloin tips from the sizzler as a result of a trucker careening into a parking lot not suited to his lower middle class chariot doesn't make you a 'life of the party' type. Although, at that age, a role like that seems to extend as far as the mastery of holding your punch and blindly throwing tails onto a varying assortment of mammals, depending, as always, on the party's theme.
After the accident, it was imperative that a new vehicle was obtained posthaste, because despite His divine providence, apparently God does NOT in fact teleport you to all prayer circles and bible study groups taking place within the Northwest-Florida tri-county area. With such a holy mission set before it, any contender to be a new mode of transportation for this family clearly had it's work cut out for it. Or at least one would hope. Clearly the universe has a sense of humor, although being in a small, white, Judeo-Christian community located in the south with strong military ties probably tilted the odds pretty strongly in the favor of our fair galaxy's laughter.
Touring the used car lot brought the overall level of hope in the promise of a new car to mediocre. As in, "Maybe they'll be something available that won't make drowning in shame" seem like a probable outcome of the purchase. Then, low and behold, a successor was chosen, on a barometer that couldn't quite be understood by any rational being.
Was it a newer car? No.
Did it have low mileage? No.
Were all seat belts functional? No.
Did the speedometer work? No.
Yet despite all the pitfalls that would have discounted any normal car, there was manifest destiny, or some other french word, at work. What the car didn't have in looks, charm, features, or basic safety functionality, it more than made up for it's stance in spiritual warfare.
Did it have seating for 8, to help accomadate as many neighborhood children as possible in their travels to Youth groups and Vacation Bible Schools? Yes.
Did it have a 'Jesus Fish'? Yes.
Did the car salesman, out of good Christian sentiment, decide to include some of his wife's organically grown watermelons, from his home, for free, at no charge, included? Yes.
Did the car happen to be the exact same make and model as the one that gave it's life in exchange for a delicious trip to half priced sizzler Wednesday? Yes.
And that's how a soul crushingly gunmetal grey Buick Century Station Wagon with 120,000 miles, limited safety features, no heat or a/c, and a vanity plate reading "GODZ4U2" became the principle form of transportation for the formative years of my life, again.
... Tragically, I am not adopted.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
A Thorough Response to Writers who are better than me...
(Please note that the title's demographic includes almost anyone, including your mother writing a grocery list)
David Sedaris' "Big Boy"- This short story does a remarkable job of pulling off what I like to call a 'hard left' (it's copyrighted, don't steal my colloquialism), although the span between the set-up and the uncovering of the ghost poop is only 2-3 sentences, you feel as if you're being led into a very pleasant story. With the backdrop being succinctly set at an outdoor afternoon picnic on Easter, David's valiant yet panicked battle with another's abandoned bowel movement is possibly the last thing you see coming. Once we get into the altercation, we immediately identify with his terror at the prospect of everyone forever associating the poop that wouldn't go on to it's great reward. Of course we've all read 'Everybody Poops', but, as David pointed out, this knowledge does not make us feel any more secure in what we think others might perceive us as following a peek into one of our most vulnerable acts.
Stephen Ellioit's "My Little Brother Ruined My Life"- The leading line loses me initially, because it's the 'shock and awe' strategy that a lot of short stories use. An author writes something outlandish, dropping the reader in the middle of the action, immediately grasping your attention because you want to find out what is happening. Usually this is followed by it turning out to be something taken out of context. This is not to say that this tactic is always unwarranted, but it just didn't work for me in this particular story; it felt cheap. As we read the story, it takes us to extreme emotional peaks and valleys, celebrating the evolving bond between estranged half-brothers, and reveling in Stephen's torment at the hands of their father. Overall, it felt like too much. The issue isn't the writing style, but the content is over the top. I do not question the validity of the claims, although certain concessions are to be made that all authors embellish, but there is so much that by the time you reach the conclusion of the story, you're at the very least numb to what I thought was the allusion to his brother dying in a plane crash.
Jeffrey Brown's "Six Panel Auto-Biography"- I'm a big fan of comics, so I don't know where to draw the line between short story and illustration, since something this minimalist wouldn't have worked without his art. Maybe because my recent reading has been Scott Pilgrim by Bryan Lee O'Malley, I couldn't help but read his story with that tongue in cheek tone in my head. This definitely showcased how much you can convey to your audience with the right word choice and careful consideration of what events are truly important. Although not the most disciplined writer myself, I do understand the importance of editing, and the polish on something this short tells me that although it seems simplistic, I can imagine the editing process was lengthy (or he's just talented and got it on the first try. The most applicable thing I can say is to paraphrase Voltaire, 'I would've written a shorter letter if I'd had more time', and Jeffrey's autobiography exemplifies that sentiment.
Maybe it's computer issues, but I can't open Sarah Vowell's "American Goth". Unless of course the piece isn't so much a story as it is abstract art, saying that being an american goth is a black screen in .pdf format, mirroring the tortured soul of those that accepts humanity's bleakness and futility in a universe so large.
...Although it probably is just a formatting issue.
David Sedaris' "Big Boy"- This short story does a remarkable job of pulling off what I like to call a 'hard left' (it's copyrighted, don't steal my colloquialism), although the span between the set-up and the uncovering of the ghost poop is only 2-3 sentences, you feel as if you're being led into a very pleasant story. With the backdrop being succinctly set at an outdoor afternoon picnic on Easter, David's valiant yet panicked battle with another's abandoned bowel movement is possibly the last thing you see coming. Once we get into the altercation, we immediately identify with his terror at the prospect of everyone forever associating the poop that wouldn't go on to it's great reward. Of course we've all read 'Everybody Poops', but, as David pointed out, this knowledge does not make us feel any more secure in what we think others might perceive us as following a peek into one of our most vulnerable acts.
Stephen Ellioit's "My Little Brother Ruined My Life"- The leading line loses me initially, because it's the 'shock and awe' strategy that a lot of short stories use. An author writes something outlandish, dropping the reader in the middle of the action, immediately grasping your attention because you want to find out what is happening. Usually this is followed by it turning out to be something taken out of context. This is not to say that this tactic is always unwarranted, but it just didn't work for me in this particular story; it felt cheap. As we read the story, it takes us to extreme emotional peaks and valleys, celebrating the evolving bond between estranged half-brothers, and reveling in Stephen's torment at the hands of their father. Overall, it felt like too much. The issue isn't the writing style, but the content is over the top. I do not question the validity of the claims, although certain concessions are to be made that all authors embellish, but there is so much that by the time you reach the conclusion of the story, you're at the very least numb to what I thought was the allusion to his brother dying in a plane crash.
Jeffrey Brown's "Six Panel Auto-Biography"- I'm a big fan of comics, so I don't know where to draw the line between short story and illustration, since something this minimalist wouldn't have worked without his art. Maybe because my recent reading has been Scott Pilgrim by Bryan Lee O'Malley, I couldn't help but read his story with that tongue in cheek tone in my head. This definitely showcased how much you can convey to your audience with the right word choice and careful consideration of what events are truly important. Although not the most disciplined writer myself, I do understand the importance of editing, and the polish on something this short tells me that although it seems simplistic, I can imagine the editing process was lengthy (or he's just talented and got it on the first try. The most applicable thing I can say is to paraphrase Voltaire, 'I would've written a shorter letter if I'd had more time', and Jeffrey's autobiography exemplifies that sentiment.
Maybe it's computer issues, but I can't open Sarah Vowell's "American Goth". Unless of course the piece isn't so much a story as it is abstract art, saying that being an american goth is a black screen in .pdf format, mirroring the tortured soul of those that accepts humanity's bleakness and futility in a universe so large.
...Although it probably is just a formatting issue.
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