This is the space where members of Platt College's Intro to Literature class discuss readings and other goings-on that have to do with their class.
Monday, July 30, 2012
At What Cost
Trillionaire Aspirations
But that was all misdemeanor ultra-wealth delinquency. Like his investment portfolio, Mitt was never one to settle for middle of the road performance. He had something more sinister in mind.
“Global domination.” Mitt smirked as he swiveled to face his panel of yes men.
“Through incremental easing of lending rates through our reser...”
“This isn’t a feedback session, Nerdgeek #4.” Mitt interjected, not knowing if he even got the Mittname of the guy he never bothered to learn, correct.
“Only a handful of people in this room have been made aware of Starfish Prime. Specifically, because all the mouth-breathers outside these walls would call it diabolical.” He elaborated with his innately condescending tone.
The members in the boardroom shared dampened looks of indifference and annoyance. This wouldn’t be the first time one of Mitt’s grand plans was forced upon them, complete with hyperbole and epic consequences, the board members knew to just agree and sit it through. The pay was good.
Mitt shouted over the quiet murmur amongst his staff: “As I figured, the words to explain to you gentiles, what’s on the agenda, simply don’t exist in english. You’re gonna need pictures. Roll that beautiful bean footage, A/V club.”
The boardroom windows flashed to opaque and sprung up the Conglomo corporate logo. “Enjoy.” Mitt blurted, as he openly directed his tablet to RedTube with the indifference of a honey badger.
“Conglomo: Innovators at life.” the video opened with a sterile female voice.
“Fast forward through my bio, get to the goodies.” Mitt demanded.
“Following a visit with the Supreme Leader of the Empire of Korea, Kim Jong Un, Mr. Mitt had realized a fantastic vision. Seeing the promise of the Korean Warrior Clone program and...”
“Fast forward again.” He again, interrupted.
“Starfish Prime will allow Conglomo to dictate its destiny. 16 years ago, Mr. Mitt enlisted 998,000 well-reimbursed mothers to act as surrogates through in-vitro fertilization. Through chromosome therapy and high-efficiency disposal measures, Conglomo was able to achieve a staggering, 93% male birth rate. The children were secured and brought to Conglomo Island 8, our largest and most secluded.
For the past 16 years, these children have been raised under the tutelage of former German Army General, Friedrich von Jäger. Following a strict regimen of diet, education and military training in a controlled, Spartan-esque environment, Conglomo has grown, of our own resources, the largest private military organization in history.”
(work in progress)
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Guarding Michael
Michael has been a gentle natured boy since birth. His first smile, though mistaken for gas, was of sincere happiness. As a young boy, Michael had expressed appreciation for every creature he has encountered, whether animal or man. Michael's bright outlook on life endures, despite his family's dark past. Though he and his parents were born and raised in New York, Michael's grandparents were immigrants to this great nation. Having narrowly escaped Auschwitz in 1944, they fled to Switzerland with a small group of refugees. There they provided details of the concentration camp from which they fled and were offered safe relocation to the United States. It was at this point that their family had the chance to start fresh and leave the gruesome details of their past behind them. This was their intention but the door they closed behind them would not remain shut forever.
Michael, now in his senior year, looked forward to his final year at Iredell High, though it had only just begun. He had maintained the kind of grades to land him a scholarship at the University of his choosing and he looked forward to the opportunity to show his parents that he was able to make it on his own, as if they doubted that at all. Looking over his schedule he realized that if he didn't hurry, he was going to be late to his first class. Having barely made it through the door before the bell rang, he noticed every seat had been taken but one; back row, in the corner, next to a blonde, blue eyed young man who he would later learn to be Adam Braun. Adam's upbringing was similar to Michael's. His parents relocated from Poland to the United States in search of a new beginning, but for different reasons. When Adam and Michael's eyes met, there was a strange sense that they had met before. It was at this point that I came into contact with Adam's Guardian and our fates were forever changed.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Style Theif: Assignment for Monday, 7/30
Your assignment for this week is to write a piece in the style of one of these authors. Your piece should be of the usual length and can be a re-imagining or continuation of something you've already written, or it can be completely new.
In order to successfully imitate the style of one of these authors, you need to first analyze what makes their respective styles unique. We did some of this in class, as you will recall. Here's a refresher on some of the traits we talked about in each of the stories. Remember to go back to these stories to figure out more about what makes these authors' voices some of the most distinctive in literature.
Hemingway:
- Simple, straightforward, economical language
- Frequent use of short sentences
- Naturalistic dialogue--characters often speak in short phrases
- Repetition for emphasis
- Characters tend not to reveal much about themselves, seem almost reluctant to speak
- Long, winding sentences with somewhat elevated diction
- Use of almost microscopic detail to describe certain actions or sensations that have particular significance to the story or the main character
- Partially omniscient narrator that has access to the deepest recesses of one or more characters' psyches.
- Regional dialect in the dialogue contrasts more formal language in narration.
- Accessible language, casual diction, simple sentence structure
- Somewhat cynical tone--narrator doesn't necessarily sympathize with the characters
- Macabre subject matter
- Dark humor--even mixes slapstick, visual humor with violence
- Plot twists hinting at the random turns life and death can take
- Use of simple, yet striking similes ("Face as broad and innocent as a cabbage")
- Regional dialect
There's so much more to the style of each author, even based only on the stories that we read. So make sure you get your noses back in the book before you start writing.
Have a great weekend, and have fun with this writing assignment!
Monday, July 23, 2012
Livindedgirl
My gear in comparison is substandard, and lacking in everything needed to perform adequately as a member of the raid. I awkwardly try to ignore the other people's gear and sneakily flick my eyes over each detail.
Studying the moiety of members in front of me I gently, silently weave a refreshment table, the portal manifesting in a cool, electric-blue egg.While I sit inside my head and consider how to introduce myself, guild members come over to activate the portal, syncing their spirits with mine, to summon a magic table capable of supplying cupcakes that revitalize ones intellect and fortitude.
The magic fades from my bony finger tips and I let my hands fall to the table. As I straighten I gingerly munch on a miniature mana cake. "Oh Thrall's balls I hope this goes ok . . ." I sigh inwardly. As the others chat away amongst themselves, I'm left alone with my own thoughts.
Turning my head to look at the twinkling lights glaring off this paladin's golden garb, I find myself face to face with the cold and tranquil face of an undead. She stares at me. I slowly back up, heart pounding, and hastily contemplate her intentions. She slowly blinks and hands me her leather flackett of Highland Spring water.
Red Dawn Pt. II, POV
“I should really start acting like I’ve got some survival instinct.” Walt muttered to himself, snapping out of his reflective haze. He peeked his head out from the safety of a shipping container he had found refuge in. The ruins of the fuel depot around him fit his mental image of what a battlefield would like. The smell of diesel in the air was intoxicating and the fiery heat, almost unbearable. Canadians were not built for hot climates. Struggling to form a plan, Walt knew this was no time to gripe about comfort.
Walt flew out of hiding, the thrusters in his suit let off a crack like thunder. He blasted the last remaining fuel tank and perched himself on top of the base’s gymnasium. He had made his intentions clear. Walt intended to make a stand.
A bright reaction of lights followed by faint warmth danced across Walt's face, as artillery rounds blossomed to life in front of him. "They weren't trained in lobbing artillery at a man-sized target." Walt gleaned to himself as their fire for effect, had none. "Ugh, and I've never trained to fight off an entire infantry battalion on my own."
With just a matter of time before the artillery batteries could bracket Walt in for an easy kill, he made a dash for the treeline just behind his lab. He noticed his brown Escort sitting unscathed in the employee parking lot, almost upset even World War III couldn't get rid of it. With a more important task at hand, Walt regains focus. He has a hunch the Russians placed their command and control assets behind the safety of the mountain wilderness behind Black Mesa. Owing most of his military strategy knowledge to a few Sun Tzu quotes and a childhood playing Civilization, it was the logical choice. If he could convince the guy in charge of the whole invasion this was a bad move, he'd have victory in his hands.
Reaching the summit of a glaciated peak, Walt got to savor the rare joy of being right. In the valley below him, lay dozens of satellite dishes, tents and vehicles, all strewn about in haste like Burning Man. He surmises the "big one in the middle" is where the head man lives, if only he had he means to get down there. Their little makeshift city was surprisingly well fortified for time they had to establish. He knew if he made too grand of an entrance, Russian aircraft or even satellites might be able to relay his position.
....
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Assignment for 7/22: Point of View/Characterization
Don't worry too much about plot, just create a narrator with a distinctive voice. Try to avoid exposition. Don't *tell* us who the narrator is with phrases like, "I was born in Albany New York to a family of hairbrush salesmen..."; *show* us who he/she is with his/her thoughts, observations, actions, and dialogue.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Epic Fail
over the abyssal gaps between each plank of wood on her deck.
She warily eyes the uneven ground, steadying herself for the odyssey ahead,
and then takes the first step forward on her treacherous trek.
Wading through uprooted nails and scattered shoes she pursues level ground.
While evading and contemplating the merciless onslaught
from a plastic bag, the sun appears and casts blinding light from around the corner.
In defense she thrusts her hand to the sky, eyes ignited.
Ceasing her journey to regain her bearings, she judges the terrain before her.
With enemies stalking her every move her desperation rises.
"Onward!" She cries out, raising her head confidently. Though inside unsure
of her precises chances of survival, she charges forward.
A canyon opens up before her, resolved she steps down firmly and plants her
heel on the tail of a sleeping rug. Panicked it struggles
to pull free; obscuring the rugged terrain beneath even further. As she lifts
her other foot to step, the rug lashes out, swallowing her heel,
and stealing the ground from beneath her her, she falls.
To be continued.
(I've had way too much fun with this already, and if I continue it may not end for a while)
Monday, July 16, 2012
Lessons in life
Red Dawn Pt. II
“Well, if I die today, and at least, delay their advance, I’ll probably have a high school named after me.” Walt consoled himself as he tried to structure a plan of attack in his head. The exosuit was powered to beyond critical. Walt knew he’d need every last watt of electricity to even entertain the possibility of surviving. And with a loud crack, the Russians had broken through.
“‘Sup guys? I’m the official Spetznaz welcoming party.” Walt taunted over his suit’s loudspeaker. The Russians replied with a flurry of machine gun fire. Knowing the constraints of his armor, Walt knew he couldn’t play the role of bullet sponge for much longer. He ran towards the advancing line, snagging a forklift in each hand and made a gory scene, too macabre for even Poe to put into words. He meleed his way to ground level expecting better news. Instead of a small special forces operation--the type the lab had at least considered a contingency plan for--was a full on invasion force.
Walt knew if the Axis powers were able to secure the fusion cores and retrieve the Allied research, the war would be over. He couldn’t let that rest on his shoulders. He sprang towards the base fuel depot and left off a lightning bolt from his suit’s reactor. Walt had successfully announced his presence.
To be continued...
Delilah's Revelation
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Assignment due 7/16: Epics and Fables
Your assignment for Monday (due before class starts) is to write a story, or a piece of a story, in the style of the epic or the fable. Your story may be about any topic, deal with any theme, and take place in any era. All I'm looking for is a demonstration of your understanding of some of the characteristics and conventions of the two genres we have been discussing.
For inspiration and information about epic poetry, re-read the passages from Beowulf and The Iliad that were included in the handouts I provided for you. Also, refer to your notes regarding the characteristics of epic poetry and the heroes that populate it.
And to refresh your memory regarding fables, turn to pages 5-16 in your reader, where you'll find examples of fables as well as excellent analysis by the editor.
Have a great weekend, and have fun writing your epics and fables!