Week 10, Creative

CREATIVE: Using any one of Faulkner’s 15 character voices as a guide, create a paragraph in the voice of a character totally different to yourself. Think about people you might have overheard on the train or bus or someone you might have seen randomly on a street corner. Invent their life, their consciousness in a paragraph. Who knows it might become the start of a larger work!

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Note: This is insipired from an occurrence that happened on a Wednesday morning on my way into university. 

 

Wednesday Morning

“Tickets! Checking tickets. Get your Opal and concession cards ready, please!”

The transit officer belched from the back of the carriage, with much more authority than necessary. You’re not a cop mate, relax. The girl in front of me reacted instantaneously; Opal with according concession card at the ready. Goody-goody, that one is. People’s sleep are disrupted as they rummage through wallets, fiddle with their head phones, have mini panic attacks in fear of the $200 fine they’ll receive if they can’t produce this paramount piece of plastic that proves you paid your $4.50 fare.

“Hey mate, can I see your Opal card?” There were two officers who stood over me, utilising their superior standing position over the seated passengers as a power trip. One stood behind, silent, but I feel he washarsh.

“Sorry, I don’t have it. I lost my wallet last night and it was in there.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alex. Alex Debney.”

“You know its a crime to provide a false identity.”

“That’s my name.”

“Any proof of identification?”

“Nah mate, I told you, I lost my wallet.”

The officer was stumped. He paused, then continued to read the laws and regulations regarding Opal cards.

“What station are you getting off at?”

“Granville.”

“Alright, we’ll meet you at Granville and discuss this further.”

They left the carriage. I called dad.

“Hey Cameron, why are you bloody calling me this early? What have you bloody done now?”

“Didn’t tap on this morning for the train, so didn’t give ‘em my Opal card. They said they’re going to fine me at Granville.”

“You can’t afford any more fines! You can’t get involved with the jail anymore, mate! Anything else, you’re out. Can’t take it anymore, mate. I’m sick of this.”

His voice was becoming raised and I could see the girl in front of me trying to turn to listen. Bloody goody-goody. Mind your own damn business.

Over the speaker, I could hear the stops being listed: Next station Fairfield, then Yennora, Guildford, Merrylands, Granville…

They can’t take me back to jail. It’s a fine, but I can’t afford the fine. With my record, they’d probably think it’s easier just to shove me away. Why couldn’t they let a poor bloke go? He lost his wallet, probably had to cancel his cards, apply for a new license, risk identify theft and a potential shopping spree from whoever found his cards, draining his bank account. Poor bloke and they couldn’t let him off for not having his Opal card? Without which how is he going to get to work? No paper tickets. Doesn’t have a license to drive. I thought it was a pretty damn good lie, to be honest.

I could see the transit officers in the carriage after us through the windows. As the doors opened on Fairfield station, the officers didn’t take notice. Their minds were on fining the next poor bloke. I quickly got up, and just before the doors closed, bolted through.

What am I going to do in bloody Fairfield?

Week 9 Blog, Creative

5/ Try to write either a William Carlos Williams, an Ezra Pound or an e.e.cummings poem using your own subject matter but sticking to their language and form. As a starting point you might try either “The Red Wheelbarrow” (309), or “In a Station of the Metro” (318) or e.e.cummings “in Just-” (638))

Ezra Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro”, reads:

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

Short in length, powerful in language, I am to do the same by adopting the minimalist imagism style. I wanted to take an evening of going to dinner, my ideal restaurant scene, and depict it by capturing the elements that make it so idyllic.

“An Ideal Evening”

Sand hour-glass running slowly, the conversation dances to the flames;

Auburn night, smooth taste, cadence turning, slow.

Blog Week 6 – Creative

 

CREATIVE: Imagine you are Huck on the raft. Write a letter to the world saying why you want to be where you are and why the world should be different than what it is.

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Dear world,

Jim reckon’d the world was full o’ bad luck, always ha’nted with bad things lurkin’ ‘round corners. I reckon’d the world was beautifully really, we humans just tended to mess it up.  If I want food, I go hunting for food. I dunt need nothin fancy, nor anything to fuss over. I need me and nature. That’s it. So what does everyone fuss over their fancy clothes, their spelling and their grammars. They dunt matter now, do they? The shun upon the uneducated, uncivilised, the coloured – like me ’n Jim, but really, who is the more civilised? Throw them on this raft, and they’d surely sink! Treat the coloured like slaves, for what? Cuz they look diff’rent? ‘Cuz they’re not righteous with their God? Why would I rather be on the land, where slavery confines us – well, Jim – and they dun let me live they way I wanna.

So, I think I’ll stay on dis raft. With Jim. Me. Jim. Jim and me. Because they dun see what I see in Jim. He’s more human that the rest of them! Here, I’m in the nature. I appreciate it. I don’t need nothin but the earth. Neither does Jim, and I think that’s why we git along so well. He knows things the townspeople don’t. Like when the birds fly in a certain direction, it’s gunna rain. On the raft, Jim and I can be who we want to be. Not constrained by what they tellin’ us we should do or be. I’m mighty comfortable here.

So, world. I might leave you be. One day you’ll hopefully change, or be better, or accept Jim, or accept me, without tryin’ change us. But for now, I’m gunna enjoy this nature, enjoy the stars, enjoy the night sky as it guides us somewhere better than where we have been.

Thanks for readin’,

Huck.

PS If you can’t read, like I used to not know hows to, maybe someone can read this for you.

IMAGE FROM: https://www.etsy.com/listing/125343738/the-adventures-of-huckleberry-finn-by

Week 3 Blog – Creative

3/ “The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides”. Use this line from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself to compose your own short poem about what most delights you in and through your own experience of being alive.

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‘Pain and Please; delights of living’

Whitman’s delight in being alone

In the rush of the streets

Along the fields –

and hillsides.

The delight in all those things –

Free to immerse yourself,

Serenely alone –

To engage in communal banter

To stroke the fur of companions

To drown in seas of laughter –

To drown in rivers of tears.

Good and bad

Simultaneously delight,

In the paradox which they both exist.

If you prick yourself and bleed

If you find amusement and laugh

When you’re alone and you weep

When you reunite and your heart warms

This is all delightful.

This being alive.

This is human.

 

Note: For me, the enormity and possibility of emotions and experiences able to be felt within a lifetime are what brings me delight. Whilst pain is unpleasant, it also means you have cared for something enough to be pained by it. To love, to hurt, to cry, to laugh, all mean that you are living. Being human is what delights me.

Image sourced from: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/journey-life-lucy-rose.

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