AGENDA:
“Every day we're told that we live in the greatest country on earth. And it's always stated as an undeniable fact: Leos are born between July 23 and August 22, fitted queen-size sheets measure sixty by eighty inches, and America is the greatest country on earth. Having grown up with this in our ears, it's startling to realize that other countries have nationalistic slogans of their own, none of which are 'We're number two!”
― David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day
AGENDA:
Select a Natalie Goldberg prompt to writew about (HANDOUT on topics)
Natalie Goldberg exercise--brainstorming for autobiographical essay.
Go to:
http://keepwriting.net/prompts.htm
Continue to read Me Talk Pretty One Day
THINK, PAIR, SHARE:
Discuss and post a reply to questions 1-4.
Begin to work on your own autobiographical "Sedaris" essay. What techniques that Sedaris uses can you use as you write your own essay? (Refer back to previous posts)
― David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day
AGENDA:
Select a Natalie Goldberg prompt to writew about (HANDOUT on topics)
Natalie Goldberg exercise--brainstorming for autobiographical essay.
Go to:
http://keepwriting.net/prompts.htm
Continue to read Me Talk Pretty One Day
THINK, PAIR, SHARE:
Discuss and post a reply to questions 1-4.
Begin to work on your own autobiographical "Sedaris" essay. What techniques that Sedaris uses can you use as you write your own essay? (Refer back to previous posts)
1. What better place to start a discussion of a Sedaris book than with the parts you find the funniest? Which parts make you LOL (laugh out loud)?
2. Are there sections of the book you feel are snide or mean-spirited? Perhaps his criticism of Americans who visit Europe dressed "as if you've come to mow its lawns." Or perhaps the piece about his stint as a writing teacher. Is petulance a part of Sedaris's schtick...his charm?
3. Talk about the Sedaris family, in particular his parents. How do they come across? Whom does he feel closest to? Sedaris makes an interesting statement about his father: it was a mystery that "a man could father six children who shared absolutely none of his interests." Is that unusual?
4. David Sedaris is a descendant of Woody Allen's brand of humor—personal idiosyncrasies or neuroses raised to an art form. What does Sedaris reveal about himself, his insecurities, angst, secret hostilities, and do you find those parts funny or somewhat touching, even sad? Actually, do you like Sedaris as he reveals himself in his book?
5. Sedaris has a number of obvious biases. Identify at least two of them and explain why this bias may exist for him.
6. Sedaris uses humor to touch on several sensitive topics, homosexuality for instance. Does this comic tone take away from these issues? Does the fact that he makes light of these issues make them easier to discuss?
7. Several essays begin with a flashback to an earlier time in Sedaris's life, which generally sets up the topic for the essay. Discuss how Sedaris uses this mechanism to continue the themes of growth/self-improvement and self versus society through the book.
8. A number of significant places are discussed in this book, but France is particularly important. Discuss how Sedaris's perception of American life has changed after moving to France.
9. Sedaris writes of his encounters with several different people, and how these people altered his perception of the world and/or himself. Identify at least two of these important people. Discuss how and why Sedaris's perception changed because of this person.
#9
ReplyDeleteI remember, it being cold. The wind happened to be whistling and it happened to be night. My sisters were walking by my side, it was no later than 1AM- or early perhaps. The snow was blowing from left to right, left to right. It couldn’t stay still but that didn’t stop us from being outside. This was the first time we had a snowball fight in years. At the time, we couldn’t find gloves- and so we took socks and bags and made gloves out of what we had. So, there we were, on an almost vacant street with barely anything on our hands, about to have a snowball fight. What if we got extremely sick, or got frostbit? At the time, we didn’t care. We were sisters that were going to have a snowball fight and that was all that mattered. Mom didn’t approve of course, told us if our black asses got sick she wasn’t nursing us back to health. By the time what she said was actually thought about, it was far too late. We were deep in snow, clothes doubled up and snow everywhere. Snow in our shoes and stuffed in our pockets. Snow twinkling in our hair and on our eyebrows. We were in the field, snow up to our knees. Cold as hell, but I was with my family. I remember, having one of the biggest snowball fights of my life with my sisters.
ReplyDelete#2
Delete#2
ReplyDeletePrompt: Begin with “I remember.” Write lots of small memories. If you fall into one large memory, write that. Just keep going. Don’t be concerned if the memory happened five seconds ago or five years ago. Everything that isn’t this moment is memory coming alive again as you write. If you get stuck, just repeat the phrase “I remember” again and keep going.
ReplyDeleteI remember breaking my knee, the bone splintering with fierce pain, quickly numbing with the feeling of something missing. I remember the rain at night wetting the pavement with fragments of glittering light. I remember the droplets of rain rolling down the glass of the ambulance as we drove towards the hospital. I remember the all white room where they placed a mask over my face, suffocating it with the nauseating smell of medicines. When I awoke, my throat dry of substance, my lips were cracked and chapped, desperate for water. They placed the ice cream on my tongue. It slid down my throat, and soothed my cries. The citrus taste of orange combined with sweet vanilla cream sent me spiraling into nostalgia of childhood walks to the corner store. For days, I remember limping around the house in the bulky blue cast, incomparably bored, watching the days slowly draw on.
Turon Parker
ReplyDeleteMs. Gamzon
Contemporary Writing
01 February 2019
Goldberg Prompt #6
Waking up in the morning everyday consists of three different steps. First is springing right up. On these days, I have the most energy. I’m moving quickly around my room. I’m able to piece together my outfit, make my hair look presentable, brush my teeth and wash my face in under 12 minutes. I feel amazing. I’ll have music blaring throughout my room and shaking the house as I amp myself for the rest of the day.
The next outcome is me turning towards my alarm and turning it off. This leads to a risky game. If I blink too long, I’ll wake up again 20 minutes would have passed. But I can’t find the energy on these days. My covers hold onto my body fiercely and command me to stay warm. Once I manage to get out of bed, 5 minutes would have passed since I turned off my alarm. Maybe 10 minutes. Getting dressed is a Herculean Task. I’ll reluctantly leave my room to brush my teeth and wash my face.
The final outcome, I miss my alarm. I oversleep by anywhere from half an hour to several hours. I have more energy here than I would in outcome one. I’m rushing to dress. Throwing on the first pair of pants I see.
Where all of this converges is the next part of my morning. Leaving. The silence of my street is interesting. Stepping outside into the world. The cool morning air is enough to wake me up the rest of the way. Every morning I’ll put my headphones on and slightly bop down the street. Moving to the drums and snares. Making my way to my bus stop.
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ReplyDeletePrompt #10
ReplyDeletePrompt #13
ReplyDeleteAkhiyar- #11
ReplyDeleteJoshua- my first kiss
omg youd put it out like that
Deleteprompt 8
ReplyDeletePrompt #6: Motivation: Write out all the things you are afraid to do concerning your writing and your writing life. Do not simply make a list, but use sentences so you can experience the flow of your thoughts. If you are stuck, start your sentences with something like, "I am afraid my writing will. . . ." or "I am afraid writing is . . . ."
ReplyDelete-I am afraid my writing will not be good enough. That it will not inspire or sway as I want it to. I am afraid my writing does not have much depth or the story does not hold as much weight to leave vast indentations in peoples brains that my writing is supposed to fill. I am afraid I'll run out of things to say, leaving works uncompleted, thoughts unfinished, and stories unwritten. I am afraid I can not profit from my work, and that it would not be good enough to sell. I am afraid to write too much and afraid to write too little. I am afraid that my thoughts may be too little. I'm afraid to make mistakes. I fear that my writing will not make it's way into the hearts of my peers, into the minds of those who'll pay. I am afraid to write, but I am most abundantly afraid that I do.
1. Tell about the quality of light coming in through your window. Jump in and write. Don’t worry if it is night and your curtains are closed or you would rather write about the light up north-- just write. Go for ten minutes, fifteen, a half hour.
ReplyDeleteThe light coming, no, creeping, through the window struggles to be noticed against the blaring mechanical lights overhead. The same light that has supported all life on Earth for billions of years loses out to a 32-watt light bulb. And it wasn’t even close. Imagine traveling 93 million miles through the vacuum of space just to be beaten by a lightbulb. The sun’s light tells me that the grey clouds aren’t really helping it out, but I think it’s just making excuses. I assume it’s not like this everywhere. I assume that closer to the equator sunbeams light up the sky to the point of blindness. I assume it’s rather overwhelming. But here, here the light is tinted grey, like it’s coming through a giant pair of sunglasses. Here it doesn’t matter if it’s night or day or where the sun is in the sky because all we need is provided to us from the manmade panels installed throughout the room. I think this is a good metaphor for man’s superiority over nature, but then someone hits the light switch, and I know nature always wins in the end.