#94 Life story & #124 Listful.
This is a combination of two exercises.
#94 Life story. Write a short first-person story of someone's entire life.
and
#124 Listful. Write a story that is a list. A story that relies on the qualities of a list as its form or operating metaphor.
300-700 words.
"Yet Unnamed"
When I was born, my parents had a plan.
-Speak at six months
-Walk at ten months
-Read by my third birthday.
My parents were certain they had borne a genius.
Some time after my second birthday I took my first steps and smashed the middle of my forehead into a heat register. WIth a limited vocabulary I screamed the incoherent wails of a newborn all the way to the hospital and left fourteen stitches later. For the next month my parents pretended every day was Ash Wednesday. At pre-school, I was the last kid to learn how to read. From the very beginning, I was a disappointment.
Grade school arrived and five weeks later were parent-teacher conferences. The teacher prepared a checklist about each student. Mine read with a few key words.
-_______ needs improvement.
-Doesn't _______.
-Can't _____.
-Fails to ______.
-______ is suffering.
These words became themes.
By the time high school arrived my parents' expectations lessened. Their new plan read like things that just happen to teenagers instead of things teenagers achieve.
-Get drivers license.
-Graduate from high school.
-Attend dances.
-Play sports.
-Get into college.
On my nineteenth birthday Dad and I stood in the license bureau. Three years after I was allowed by law, I took my drivers exam. I barely passed.
-Failure to_____.
-Failure to_____.
On the way out, Dad slapped me on the shoulder and said, "Now you can drive yourself to your G.E.D. classes."
That night, to celebrate, my parents and I, we went to dinner. I drove. To this day, I swear the plow truck didn't have its lights on. My parents' coroner reports read something like this;
-Fractured spine.
-Head trauma.
-Multiple Lacerations.
-D.O.A.
At nineteen, the money from my parents estate was a fortune. A world of opportunity awaited that cash.
A.-------------------------B.
-Education.------------Living Expenses.
-Savings.---------------Partying.
-Investments.----------Excess.
I chose column "B." People are impressed by somebody who can spend money at will and in the three years it took me to spend it all, I aquired a few things.
-A wife.
-Two children.
-A blank resume.
When you run out of money, you can't buy love. This changes things.
-An ex-wife.
-Two children I never see.
-A shit job.
This was like the cartoons when they push a snowball down the mountain. How as the snowball rolls down the slope, well, you get the idea.
-Alcoholism.
-Nicotine addiction.
-Defeatism.
-Anger.
-D.U.I.
-Unemployment.
-Bankruptcy.
And here, in the hospital, where they can't turn me away, where, by law, they are required to return me to "stable" condition, even without health insurance, I am laying, listening to the beeps of my heartbeat spread further and further apart. I don't want to breathe anymore because it hurts too much. I want a drink because it will make the hurting stop, even though the desire to drink feels like too much effort.
Beep.
I wish I knew where my kids are.
Beep.
I'd like to tell my wife I'm sorry.
I'd like to tell my parents I'm sorry.
Beep.
I wonder what would have happened if I chose column "A."
I wonder if the snow plow's lights really were on.
I wonder if anybody will notice I'm gone.
Beep.
This, my life, was no life at all.
Beeeeeeeeeee.........
#94 Life story. Write a short first-person story of someone's entire life.
and
#124 Listful. Write a story that is a list. A story that relies on the qualities of a list as its form or operating metaphor.
300-700 words.
"Yet Unnamed"
When I was born, my parents had a plan.
-Speak at six months
-Walk at ten months
-Read by my third birthday.
My parents were certain they had borne a genius.
Some time after my second birthday I took my first steps and smashed the middle of my forehead into a heat register. WIth a limited vocabulary I screamed the incoherent wails of a newborn all the way to the hospital and left fourteen stitches later. For the next month my parents pretended every day was Ash Wednesday. At pre-school, I was the last kid to learn how to read. From the very beginning, I was a disappointment.
Grade school arrived and five weeks later were parent-teacher conferences. The teacher prepared a checklist about each student. Mine read with a few key words.
-_______ needs improvement.
-Doesn't _______.
-Can't _____.
-Fails to ______.
-______ is suffering.
These words became themes.
By the time high school arrived my parents' expectations lessened. Their new plan read like things that just happen to teenagers instead of things teenagers achieve.
-Get drivers license.
-Graduate from high school.
-Attend dances.
-Play sports.
-Get into college.
On my nineteenth birthday Dad and I stood in the license bureau. Three years after I was allowed by law, I took my drivers exam. I barely passed.
-Failure to_____.
-Failure to_____.
On the way out, Dad slapped me on the shoulder and said, "Now you can drive yourself to your G.E.D. classes."
That night, to celebrate, my parents and I, we went to dinner. I drove. To this day, I swear the plow truck didn't have its lights on. My parents' coroner reports read something like this;
-Fractured spine.
-Head trauma.
-Multiple Lacerations.
-D.O.A.
At nineteen, the money from my parents estate was a fortune. A world of opportunity awaited that cash.
A.-------------------------B.
-Education.------------Living Expenses.
-Savings.---------------Partying.
-Investments.----------Excess.
I chose column "B." People are impressed by somebody who can spend money at will and in the three years it took me to spend it all, I aquired a few things.
-A wife.
-Two children.
-A blank resume.
When you run out of money, you can't buy love. This changes things.
-An ex-wife.
-Two children I never see.
-A shit job.
This was like the cartoons when they push a snowball down the mountain. How as the snowball rolls down the slope, well, you get the idea.
-Alcoholism.
-Nicotine addiction.
-Defeatism.
-Anger.
-D.U.I.
-Unemployment.
-Bankruptcy.
And here, in the hospital, where they can't turn me away, where, by law, they are required to return me to "stable" condition, even without health insurance, I am laying, listening to the beeps of my heartbeat spread further and further apart. I don't want to breathe anymore because it hurts too much. I want a drink because it will make the hurting stop, even though the desire to drink feels like too much effort.
Beep.
I wish I knew where my kids are.
Beep.
I'd like to tell my wife I'm sorry.
I'd like to tell my parents I'm sorry.
Beep.
I wonder what would have happened if I chose column "A."
I wonder if the snow plow's lights really were on.
I wonder if anybody will notice I'm gone.
Beep.
This, my life, was no life at all.
Beeeeeeeeeee.........