Spring Semester Skepticism

For All Yeasty Fat-Kidneyed Hugger-Muggers:

http://www.pangloss.com/seidel/shake_rule.html

Start with the word "Thou," then add one word from each column, and voilà! You've got your own unique Shakespearean insult. Enjoy.

Writing Exercise #4: Beware the Fail Whale

Don't know what the fail whale is? Just wait until Twitter is down. It only breaks down every other day or so. Speaking of Twitter, you can follow this blog and my new writing exercise at this address:

http://twitter.com/novelgazing

There you'll see two tweets for each chapter of Herman Melville's Moby Dick.  Each is labeled with a chapter number. The first is the serious synopsis, and the second is my humorous take.  Enjoy!

Writing Exercise #3: Hoffacker Critical Edition

    Several months later, in the basement of my aunt’s and uncle’s house, I sit on the soft couch with the large, blue cushions beside my cousin Andrew¹.  He holds the game controller for the Nintendo 64² as he plays through the latest chapter in the Legend of Zelda³.  This isn’t a multiplayer game.  Andrew plays because it’s his game and he’s older, while I sit and watch.  We spend many afternoons this way.
    My legs dangle from the plushy seat cushion, and my feet barely touch the maroon carpet, covered in most places by old laundry, papers, VHS tapes⁴, golf bags, and dog hair.  The basement has a familiar smell, something musty but not foul.
    This room is nothing like my parents’ basement at home.  Sure, they both have laundry rooms, but my basement has water damage and a low ceiling, and it certainly doesn’t have a couch and a working television.  This basement is a safe haven for me and Andrew, where we can have fun without his parents or any of his four older siblings getting in our way.
    I hear the door to the basement open, and my eyes dart left to the creaking stairs.  Andrew’s sister Katie⁵, the dark-haired middle child, enters the room, kicking things out of her way as she walks to the laundry room⁶ and out of sight.
    When the argument starts, I have no idea what’s going on.  Katie confronts Andrew about something.  Beyond that, I’m lost.  I try to focus all of my attention on the screen, where I see that Andrew is still playing the game even as his sister talks to him and he talks back.
    Katie is the first one to raise her voice, and I cringe because I’m between them.  Andrew sits on the edge of his seat at my right.  Katie stands near the stairs to my left, getting closer as the argument gets more heated⁷.
    They yell louder and louder for a while, and I sink back into the couch as far as I can, which feels like not very far at all.  I suddenly become aware of how small the basement is.  Even with all the mess and junk piled up in storage, still there’s nowhere that I can hide.  So I try to shrink, try to disappear, but I only become aware of how big I am⁸.
    The shouting match rages on.  Every time Andrew finishes a statement, he turns right back to the television and keeps on playing his video game, as if the argument has just ended in his triumph.  At times he doesn’t even look up at his sister while he yells at her.
    Katie watches her little brother playing Nintendo until she gets fed up with it.  She marches a few steps forward, reaches for the game console, and yanks the power cord right out of it⁹.  The sound of the little, black machine running dissipates into silence, like a vacuum shutting off¹⁰.  The images on the screen turn to black in an instant.
    She turns about face and storms away, climbing the stairs with a stomp on each step.  Andrew drops the game controller¹¹ and leaps to his feet, shouting up at her, “You fucking bitch¹²!”  She doesn’t turn around or say anything more.

¹Hoffacker's cousin, Andrew Jansson, was a highly influential figure in his life, one whom he often credits with major influence on his sense of humor.
²This device is an electronic video game console, attached to the television by wires, popular in the late 1990's.
³This is a popular series of such video games released by the Nintendo entertainment corporation.
⁴Inserted into a device called a VCR, also connected to the television, these VHS (or Video Home System) tapes were used to play and record video programming.
⁵Unlike Andrew, Katie is a relation to whom Hoffacker largely severed ties, for reasons which remain unspoken throughout his memoirs and therefore mysterious.
⁶Suburban homes such as this one often had a room to house a washing machine and a dryer for the regular cleaning of household clothes.
⁷Tense, aggressive.
⁸Even throughout his childhood, Hoffacker was exceptionally tall, eventually standing over six feet four inches in adulthood.
⁹In order to operate, the video game console not only had to be plugged in to the television but also into an electrical outlet in the wall through another wire.
¹⁰A standard home vacuum cleaner was very loud while in use, and the sound would slowly diminish once it was shut off.
¹¹The interactive aspects of the video game were manipulated using a handheld device known as a "controller."
¹²Technically the term for a female canine, the word "bitch" was commonly used to refer to an assertive, rude, or otherwise impolite woman (or, in other cases, to anyone, even a male, in a subservient position to another, e.g., "He's my bitch").

Writing Exercise #2: Thank God It's Friday

The following passages are excerpts from Friday's journal, translated from Portuguese.

Dear Journal,

    Today I met my new master, who tells me that his name is Master. I've gotten a new name myself, for he calls me Friday. I quite like the name.

    I'm a servant to Master because I owe him my life.  I was in the hands of my captors, being garnished for the feast I was about to become, when I managed to slip from their grasp and make my escape.

    However, I wouldn't have survived the ordeal without the help of Master.  When two of my captors pursued me, he came to my aid and stopped them with a strange, long device like a stick that produces so much noise and smoke. By its power, the cannibals were knocked down, never to arise again.

    So I pledged my eternal servitude to Master, prostrating myself on the sand and placing his foot upon my head, for he can't understand my words. Next I proposed that we celebrate with a feast, for the carcasses of my former captors just lay on the ground rotting, but by this suggestion I fear that I angered Master. To appease him, I will no longer eat any man's flesh.

Dear Journal,

    As I learn more and more of Master's language, he has begun to teach me some very important things about the world. Master says that Benamuckee is not the the supreme ruler and creator of everything, as I've been led to believe. He says that really there is one called God.

    I have so many questions for Master about God, and I see to know all that Master knows, but I am still so limited in my ability to speak his language. I can only string together very few words, and I can't ask about all of the things which I am curious to learn.

    Based on Master's lessons, I am not sure of how different God is from our Benamuckee, except that Benamuckee lives at the top of a great mountain, while God lives up in the sky, above even the sun. Also, Master told me that God has a son named Jesus, and I've never heard of Benamuckee having any kin.

    Of course now I can believe nothing I've heard about Benamuckee. If Master speaks the truth about God, and I know he must for Master is my savior, then the Oowocakee must have been lying to us. What did they do there up on that mountain, if there was no Benamuckee to visit and venerate?

    Maybe they were not lying at all; maybe they are simply as ignorant as I was before Master shared with me the truth about God. I would like to discuss all this with Master, but I don't know the words and often he doesn't know how to interpret my signs. I can only hope that time will be my teacher, and someday Master and I will talk for many hours in his native tongue.

Dear Journal,

    Oh it's such a joyous day! I almost can't believe my good fortune. I've been reunited with my Father, who came to Master's shore in a boat, held captive in much the same way I arrived here.

    Master again overtook the cannibals, only this time with my aid in the rescue. Armed with Master's death sticks, we dispatched many of my former captors, rescuing not just a Spanish prisoner but also my dear father, whom I have not seen in so long and whose life I feared for.

    When Master called me to the boat and I laid eyes upon my father, alive and under no more threat, I was so ecstatic that I could hardly contain my joy. I held him tightly to my chest, kissed him upon his neck and shoulders, and released him only long enough to dance in celebration.

    I was so overcome with my happiness that I completely forgot Master's orders. However, when I turned to look at him, I could see that Master was quite pleased. He looked down upon me and my Father with a great smile, which was all the approval I needed to continue embracing my Father.

    I think that it can't be a coincidence that this great fortune has befallen me after Master taught me the truth about God. While Master slept, I have even prayed to God, sometimes thanking him for delivering me into Master's hands, for without him I would be as dead as all the cannibals on the beach. Other times I pleaded with God for a reunion such as this, and now there shall forever be no doubt in my mind of God's supreme power and Master's wisdom.

Dear Journal,

    Today we are going to leave this island and head for the mainland. I can see the ship slowly coming closer to the shore. It's a magnificent sight, larger than any ship I've seen in my life. It cuts through the ocean like Master's sword through goat flesh. I can hardly wait to see where it will take us.

    Master seems to be in such an odd mood. He spends most of his time pacing up and down the beach. At some moments he looks out to see, toward the ship coming to our rescue, but mostly he looks down at the sand, examining his footprints.

    Master has tried to tell me how long he has been on this island, but so far I fail to understand him when he talks of numbers and lengths of time. At least I have surmised that he arrived on this shore when he was a much younger man. I think he must be very excited to leave this place behind him, until it is not even a speck on the horizon, but he has a strange way of showing it.

    I do not show my excitement well either, for my thoughts are still with my Father. I wish that he were still with us here, ready to make the voyage to a new shore with us. I would be just as happy, too, if at least I knew what has become of him since Master and I saw him off and wished him well. Still, the incoming ship has renewed my confidence in our fates, and I know that my Father and I will meet again someday.

    Whenever I have doubt of this, I remember God who reunited us, and I say a little prayer to Him, asking that He will only do what he has already proved possible. And wherever this Spanish ships shall take us, I will stay by Master's side, because I know that my fortune would otherwise turn bad. Master gave me my own life when the cannibals tried to take it, and so I owe him a lifetime of servitude and friendship, and leaving the island does nothing to change that.

Writing Exercise #1: Burroughs in Defoe's Prose

My refulgent Book Shelves are lined with myriad Treasures: empty Cans, void of their original Labels, with their ribbed still Skins shining as I have polished them many Times over with Silver Polish, yet still how I wish they were made from Gold; I also have Rings collected there, Rings which I attained during my Family's Trip to Mexico when I was but five Years of Age; and there I keep my Images of extravagant Jewelery, which I have clipp'd from various Periodicals and stuck to light Boards and propp'd up right; and I possess a good Spoon taken from the Sterling Silver which my Grandmother had send to my Parents when they were wedded, although my Mother openly admonishes that Silver, calling it God-awfully tacky; and lastly a minute Collection of Reales, Pieces of Eight, and Gold Escudos, that all I have boiled and polished with that same Silver Polish while watching the gently wafty Sea from out my Window.