"Safe"

Safe is about a woman who grew up in an environment that feared men. Her mother put that fear in her whenever she was little and now she fears them as an adult. The story details one night when a man breaks into her home and tries to rape her. The cops get to him before anything bad happens and we learn that the man was her father.

I really like the little details you bring to the character that emphasize her frightened state. Watching Criminal Minds for instance. That's exactly what scared people do. They just further fuel their fears. I also think instead of keeping the TV on to wait, she should keep it on because the noise makes her feel safer. (That's how I work anyway.) I also really liked the detail that she closed all of the doors when she was checking out the noise. I remember doing stuff like that when I was little. 

Calling a dog named Twinkie a protector is very funny by the way.

The biggest problem here is that I don't think there is a change. The story doesn't seem finished. The narrator starts scared of men and we assume she's even more scared now. The father doesn't change either. We are told he is a bad man and we learn that he's a monster. There's not enough character progression.

I suggest that you start the story with the incident with the father and then go from there. She would probably be a little traumatized by that incident and talk to no male at all. Even her brother. Then you can see a change in her that goes from fear and paranoia to cautious and slightly trusting or something. I just think we need to see her trusting of some male figure at some point.

Where to Start?

This is a bout Darroll, a sheltered kid, who finally decides to do his own thing and break out from his parent's grip.

I really like what you're doing with his room and the dinosaur wallpaper. It characterizes what kind of family this is. I remember looking at my room at ten years old and thinking, "I'm too old for this." The voice is also well written. Very clear and concise. The story flows very well, too given all that's going on. Granted there seems to be a lot going on at first, and I was wondering where all of it was going, but it all came together in the end.

I think there needs to be more to establish his life as the sheltered kid though. Everything is too general as it stands. Instead of saying, "I got used to the, 'No this' and 'stop thats,' " you should say something like, "I wasn't allowed to get a drink of water without my mother pouring it in the glass for me," or something like that. Right now we just get how he feels about being sheltered without the concrete details of his life. Getting these specific details will get your readers to sympathize more with Darroll.

Also, I think there needs to be more to justify Darroll's sudden change. He doesn't seem to be totally engaged in going to public school because he's easily distracted by his grandpa's car. So it gave me a sense that he didn't really care to get out of the house or not. So his change didn't seem totally earned to me. I think we need another instance when he tries to get out of the house and really means it.

I Saw "Enter the Void" Two Months Ago

And now I'm going to write about it.

But first, for those who have no idea what I'm talking about: the opening credits. Turn your volume up. Turn off the lights. Fullscreen it.

Abrasive, huh? While the fast-paced, frenetic opening doesn't exactly hold up to the tone and pace of the film (which is slow and dreary), the epileptic noise and light stay regardless, and while the film is extremely difficult to watch, mentally and physically (by the sixth time your left looking straight into what becomes essentially a strobe light for long stretches, you can't help but ask yourself, 'Is this ever going to end?'), Enter the Void is still ambitiously brilliant, flawed, genuinely unique, beautiful and one of the most depressing, despair-filled films I've ever seen.

I guess I should say, before I keep going, that I had already seen Enter the Void a little over a year ago, but it was the shortened version, with twenty--as director Gaspar Noe puts it--unessential minutes cut out, and I definitely needed another viewing to be able to know exactly how I felt about it. My second viewing (which was two months ago, on the other hand, was the directors cut, with the twenty minutes put back in, making the long run time even longer, at a bit under three hours. With it being Noe's preferred version, the director's cut is what I'm responding to.

There's not much to the story of Enter the Void. It's more of an experience of a spiritual journey. Not in any moral, I-have-seen-the-error-of-my-ways way, but a literal, spatial journey, a movement from point A to point B to point C... Oscar, a budding drug dealer has been reading "The Tibeten Book of the Dead" which describes what happens after someone dies: their soul floats around the world and it can see and hear everyone and everything, but can't communicate. It won't pass on because it wants to live again and it keeps getting sucked into certain points of light until those lights become a path to a new life. The soul then chooses which life is best for it, then is reincarnated. So, of course, Oscar dies and we follow him on his spiritual journey into reincarnation.

The best part, the incredibly unique part, of this film is how Oscar's journey is presented. Theoretically, Enter the Void is one shot and in real time. The weird thing is that it spans a couple of weeks (Which I won't explain. Just trust me). Before Oscar dies, the camera is in his point of view, first person. We see exactly what he sees (if you watched the full video above, you saw him blinking). When he dies, the camera becomes his soul and, for most of the film, instead of cutting to different locations, the camera travels to them, always above the going-ons in Tokyo, through neon, fluorescent buildings and across long stretches of streets. It's something I've never seen before and this extremely ambitious way of filming actually works, even though it may make the film drag on longer than it actually is.

While the filmmaking at hand is spectacular, the content bothers me, not on a moral level, but on a spiritual one. As I said before, this is one of the most depressing movies I have ever seen. Near the beginning of the film, when Oscar is learning about the process of death and reincarnation, he asks something along the lines of, "So we're just stuck here?" If so, what does life have to offer? What can we do to make our life the best it can be? What is here that's worth anything? Enter the Void seems to think that there's nothing.

We find nothing through Oscar's voyeuristic point of view that seems redeeming or worth anything. Life is a dirty, sad, frustrating, immoral affair. There's drug overdoses, rape, grief-fueled orgies, abortion, cheap sex, infidelity, inscestual thoughts, murder, abusive relationships, betrayal, and homelessness. Enter the Void is saying that you are born, you suffer, and you die, and then you do it all over again. To further get this extremely nihilistic point across, almost all of the 161 minutes is backed by this echoic drone that sounds like it's coming from inside a deep well and makes everything feel empty and lost. The film even makes sex as despair-filled as the rest of the events. The moans and groans have that same echoic longing as well, and because of that, I couldn't help but picture these characters (and myself) with nothing to strive for in the middle of a pitch black cave with no exit. Life here is meaningless.

What bothers me is that it's this kind of philosophy that possibly underlies all of the character's deplorable actions.  There's no point for caring for others. There's nothing really holding us back. There are no limits in a meaningless world. There are no consequences that can be worse than life itself.

But maybe it's message isn't what completely bothers me, but how I responded to it. Enter the Void makes its nihilistic view actually...attractive and comforting. Maybe it has something to do with the drone. Something about it reminds me of being wrapped under a blanket or maybe subconsciously inside a womb. Maybe it has something to do with the visuals which ,if you have been paying attention to the pictures here, are gorgeous, and that is what I really find so attractive. Or maybe it has to do with the run time. The film feels about an hour too long, and sitting there I become numb and open to what's happening on the screen.  Maybe there's some subliminal messaging--Noe is known to use subliminal tactics before--going on that makes me feel this way.

Whatever the case may be, the fact that I'm left thinking fondly of this movie afterwards, and still thinking about it at all two months later means something. Maybe something dangerous for me. I don't know. It's sucked me in and placed me somewhere where I'm stuck. It's done something to me that I don't understand yet. And that's a scary thing. So, if someone were to ask me if I recommend Enter the Void I would probably say no...but that they should watch it anyway.

Shelby's "Bleeps and Blips"

This story is about Anna and her struggles with her deteriorating family. Also, she's conflicted (at first) on whether or not she should pull the plug on her dying father. We learn that in their family there was a split between he sisters, with Anna siding with the father and her sister with the mother. We learn more about the family as the story goes on and in the end, Anna decides to take her father off child support.

I think the best part of the story was the scene when Anna's father cuts himself. It shows us his personality. He knows he is severely injured, but stays calm and keeps his head for his daughter because he knows that if he freaks out a little bit in front of her, then she would be more hurt than him. That scene does more showing than telling and that's what I like about it.

The other scenes, however, tell/summarize more often than show. "I was punished for things I did't do simply because Mom didn't believe Karen could do anything wrong," and, "Mom and I got into massive fights when I was in high school--the kind with screaming and stomping and accusations and crying. It wasn't pretty." Here you are telling us about their relationship without really showing us.

I would like to see that characters more rounded as well. The mom is kind of a jerk and she kind of stays a jerk. The father is kind of perfect, and he stays perfect. The closest to rounded characters are the two sisters who decided to finally talk to each other.

Also a song! YAY! About death and stuff. Aw...

Christina's "Password Protected"

There's a lot going on here I think, which I always like. First there's the relationship between Thomas and the narrator, Julia. He is the one who always helps her through things, and I guess the ending she is the one who...helps him? (I have more thoughts about the ending.)

There's also the bit about how technology has changed the landscape of personal information and how we use/portray/create it.

I loved the bit about the guy who creates his suicide an event. That's funny. Very funny, actually. The resulting comments about the event...are also really funny. It makes everything about the "connections" on Facebook utterly meaningless. You made me laugh.

Pretty much anything about Facebook on here kind of makes me laugh. Like this is some sort of satiric thing. I don't know. Putting the actions that people do on Facebook in actual print and prose makes it seems so silly.

And I really, truly like that about this piece, but the problem is I'm not sure if that's what you were going for. I'm think I'm projecting my own beliefs about Facebook onto this story, and I think I'm able to do that because I'm not sure exactly what the narrator really feels about all of this. And because I think Facebook is a very silly place (You should see my own profile. I'm a literal bear on there.), that's the stance I took for the narrator.

For instance, at one point in the story, she can't believe that people think that their words mean anything on FB (I'm talking about the bible verses and the you're-going-to-be-okays). But then, when her brother dies, she believes that the words she puts on his profile mean literally everything.

And I also don't know how we're supposed to feel about the guy committing suicide. Are we as the reader supposed to take his cry for help seriously? Or not? Because essentially what he's doing is a very silly thing. And I took it as that.

So I guess that's the biggest problem. I don't know what you want your readers to feel. I felt like the ending could be taken in two ways. A happy one, where they truly believe her brother is immortal. Or a sad one (which is the way I took), where Julia isn't letting go. If you want it to be taken as a happy ending, then you need to show us how we are supposed to feel about Facebook itself and the other stuff. Like, if you want the cry for help to be taken seriously, I think it is something that needs convincing. We need to understand that this is real. Not just some sad attempt at getting attention.

...But, to be honest, I kind of prefer it if it weren't taken seriously. Then you get something surprisingly dark.

Also a song about death and stuff:

Something I Wrote

I was going to make this my second workshop, but I wasn't that happy with it. So I'm going to post it here instead. If anyone cares to read it and has a quick suggestion or two to make it better, then please leave a comment! I'd really appreciate it.

Makes Your Heart Move

I sit in a chair and it’s uncomfortable because it’s in a doctor’s office. I have no opinion on doctor offices, but the chairs in them always seem to be very uncomfortable. My therapist made me come here.

It has very low arm rests and the cushion is flat. There’s no design, just a greenish-blue cushion. The doctor tells me I’m sick. She says that it’s malignant and in my colon. I don’t feel anything though, except for the chair.

The doctor tells me that my condition is very rare. So rare that only six cases in the US have been recorded. She instructs me where to go from here.  

I picture a person named Alex having to tell family and friends, calling them on the phone, over lunch, over coffee. I can see that when Alex tells them there won’t be a reaction at first. Their faces become frozen, their vocal chords tighten. Alex responds to this by saying hey, don’t worry, it’s only butt cancer. It’s really just a whoopee cushion I can’t get rid of. They smile. They don’t get the joke and neither does Alex, but they smile.

They are able to speak again. Alex has broken the spell. Well at least you have a sense of humor about it, they say. And Alex says yeah, that’s always a good thing. And they’ll bring their mug to their mouths but won’t sip anything or they’ll laugh and it’ll fade away as they look at their shoes or the phone will become silent as they wonder how to change the subject without sounding selfish.

I wouldn’t blame them or anything if they did. I’d rather hang up and watch a movie than speak to someone who only tells me bad news because they feel obligated to. I know who the real selfish person in that scenario is.

The doctor asks me if I have any questions, and I think about it. I couldn’t find any so I said no and got out of the chair and left.

***

The chairs in my therapist’s office are usually pretty comfortable, but today they aren’t. I don’t know why though.

He asks how the depression is doing and I tell him that it’s going good. I tell him that he was right. The reason I had stayed in bed not eating, not sleeping, not bathing or peeing or pooping, watching movie after movie for four straight days the week before wasn’t because I was depressed, which I thought, but it turns out it was because I was actually sick with a real illness. He says mono wasn’t it? And I talk about how I like the lighting in his office.

The overhead, fluorescent light is always off and he has about six lamps around the room that make a golden light and make the colors in his office feel safe to be around. His voice gets softer. I ask him if he’s likes to watch movies. Not just as a thing he does, but as a hobby he’s passionate about. He says no.

I decide he doesn’t need to know. I don’t want to be that person. He has to listen to people talk about their problems all day. People who as kids sometimes woke up with their step-dad’s semen on their face. People who were kidnapped and beaten until they went unconscious and miss it. People who can’t shop in grocery stores because they would stay in there for hours rearranging the cans and bags and boxes forever and ever until they got thrown out or something. My problems aren’t as bad so why bother mentioning them. It’s not that big a deal.

I let the guy have an hour of peace for once.

***

My dad calls me like he usually does and asks how I’m doing. I say I’m doing fine. I tell him about the last movie I saw which was Once Upon a Time in the West. I re-watched the first twelve minutes when Mr. Harmonica is introduced about five times before I went on with the rest of the movie. I want to be someone like Mr. Harmonica. A hero and someone that matters. I have this thrill when the train horn blends with his haunting harmonica sound. I am so excited. My heart actually moves whenever I watch a good movie. They are the only things that can do that to my heart.

He says he doesn’t know which movie I’m talking about. I don’t explain it to him and I say that he should watch it and he says okay. It is silent like it usually is and I don’t know what else to say so I mention that I am sick. He says is it depression? And I say no. I tell him it’s malignant and in my colon. That my condition is very rare. So rare that there have only been six recorded cases in the US. I tell him I don’t feel anything though.

He asks me how long did I know this and I said three weeks and he gets mad at me and starts to yell and say how could I not mention this before, that I’m not fine, that I need medical care. He says how could I even sound so calm with news like this, don’t I care. Three weeks already. Am I scared.

I tell him when he says he’s going to drive 1500 miles to see me not to worry. That it’s only butt cancer. How bad could such a funny thing be. It’s like a whoopee cushion I can’t get rid of. He says what does that even mean and I say I don’t know but don’t worry everything’s fine. It’s no big deal. What does it matter.

 He asks if I have been taking any medication recently and I say for the cancer? And he says for the depression and I say that I keep forgetting about both.

***

My dad drives 1500 miles from Austin, Texas to my apartment in California. It takes him two days. He knocks on the door and it takes me ten minutes to get out of bed and the whole time he’s knocking. I open the door and I ask him if he wants to watch a movie. He asks where my pills are. After about an hour we find one bottle under my bed and near the wall and another under some dirty dishes on the floor. We can’t find my depression pills.

He reads the instructions on the ones we did find and he makes me open up my hand and drops the pills in them. He watches as I take them. He does this every day. Makes sure I take my pills.

He says that the place is disgusting and takes the rest of the week to clean up all of the cups with mold in it on my nightstand and in the other rooms, he vacuums all of the crumbs of sandwiches and potato chips on the floors and throws the candy wrappers on the couch in the garbage after he empties it. He asks how long they’ve been here. He sticks moldy banana in my face and I have to keep my mouth closed and he says look at this. Look at how I’m living. He throws the banana at my chest and it squishes against my shirt and sticks there. He tells me to take off my shirt and I do and he puts it in the washer with other dirty clothes. He never stops complaining and yelling at me about it and I watch Lawrence of Arabia three times. My heart moves whenever Lawrence returns from saving the man stranded in the desert. He means so much to so many people and the camels are running, the sand in the desert is so clean, the music is so loud and powerful, and the people are cheering. I almost cry every time.

***

We get my depression pills and visit the doctor again. The chair is the same one I was in when I was diagnosed. It’s still uncomfortable. My dad asks so many questions that I never think of. What are the symptoms. Is there any way we can fight this. What is the time line. Is chemo an option. What is the illness called again. What caused it. Is there any way he can help. What is there to do. How long will this last.

***

They decide that I’m going to have surgery in a week and take some of it out of my colon and see what that does. The night before the surgery after my dad watches me take my pills we watch Once Upon a Time in the West and my heart doesn’t move when the train comes and the harmonica is being played I don’t feel anything. And I get scared.

My dad says why do I love movies so much? And I say they make my heart move, but they aren’t today. He says are movies the only thing that make me feel that way and I say yes and he says that he thinks that that is a sad thing. He says that there are many many things that can make me feel that way but I don’t believe him because only movies have ever made my heart move like that. He says I need to look more.

***

I lie on a bright table at the hospital. I wear a patient’s gown and my sick butt is showing. I say that if they hear a noise it’s just the whoopee cushion. It’s good that I keep a sense of humor. They are about to take me in and stick an IV in me and I yell for Dad and he comes in and asks what’s wrong and I grab his hand and my ass is in the open and I start to cry and I don’t remember the last time I cried, and I tell him I’m scared and that I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with me anymore.

He says I’m sorry for what? And I say I don’t know. I’m just really scared right now and I don’t want to die. I don’t want that. And the table is wet near my face and the lights are bright and reflect off the surface of the table and the floor and I can’t get away from it and it makes my eyes hurt. I keep saying with my eyes closed I don’t want to die. He says it’s good that I think that because that means my depression pills are working. It’s a good thing that I’m scared. It’s good that I care. He smiles and says now I’m normal.

I start to throb and tremble and I can picture my ass shaking in the air and I’m still crying and my teeth start to chatter and I say that I don’t like this, I don’t like this feeling, I want to go back to where nothing mattered.

The surgeons have a hard time sticking an IV in me because I’m trembling so much but they get it and I fall asleep.

***

Movies don’t make my heart move anymore. I don’t feel anything when I watch them and I don’t know what’s wrong with me because I don’t want to watch them anymore. I don’t like being normal.

***

I dream that I’m watching 2001: A Space Odyssey and I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and a tree grows out of my mouth. I lie on my couch and the tree gets bigger and bigger and I gag and I can’t breathe. I taste the bark and I can feel the roots grow inside my body. It moves down my throat and into my arms and my heart and my legs and I can’t move because I can’t breathe but I’m not dying. The branches grow and tangle and thicken and people start to bud out from them. They hang on the branches by their necks and I still can’t breathe and one of them looks at me and says this is good for you this is good for you and I can hear breathing from the TV but I can’t see it because the tree in my mouth is in the way and up through the ceiling.

***

My dad trusts me now to take the pills on my own and I only take them half of the time. I flush them in the toilet so it seems like I’m going through them and my dad won’t notice.

It’s been four weeks and the cancer isn’t slowing down. The surgery didn’t work apparently. I start chemo.

I do it almost every day and now I’m flushing all of my pills and I’m not scared anymore. I watch Seven Samurai and my heart feels warm and alive again. I want to join in their group of samurais. I want to save the day. I watch it two more times.

I am wondering so I cut my wrists because it is the easiest way to try it out. My dad finds me on the floor with blood on the carpet and screams and uses the phone and I’m in the hospital again.

He yells at me and screams and says have you been taking your medication and I say for cancer? And he says for anything. And I say I forgot and he starts to cry and say he’s trying to save my life and I’m trying to end it and why am I so stupid and he slaps me in the face as I lie in the bed that smells like nothing. I don’t feel anything though. I ask him if he wants to watch a movie when we get out and after a few minutes he says okay.

***

My dad watches me take my pills and makes me open my mouth and stick out my tongue. We go to chemotherapy and I sit in a comfortable recliner as it happens. I’m scared again but I’m too tired to shake and it takes seconds for the doctor to stick the IV in me. I become terrified after a little bit and I feel so tired and I start to yell at my dad. I say that it’s his fault for making me feel so scared. I say everything was fine before he came here and he ruins everything because he feels like he has to do something when really I just want to be left alone. I say I don’t want anybody. I was fine, I wasn’t scared. I was fighting death my own way and now he’s made me naked with my bare ass in the air and nothing to fight back with.

He says that what I’m going through is normal and I say fuck normal and I call him a parasite and just as bad as the cancer. And the water in his eyes makes them look bigger and he uses them to look at his watch and he says it’s time. He reaches into his bag and pulls out my pills and makes me take them and I open my mouth and stick out my tongue.

He says that he thinks I knew that Mom was dead before anyone else. That when I popped out I didn’t cry or scream or anything. I was already in mourning. Maybe I knew she had died because when she did I was still attached to her he says. I didn’t cry.

He tells me that when I was six months old I made up for it by crying all of the time. The only way to stop me from crying was to put me in a buggy and drive me around inside a grocery store. He remembers he spent nine hours in the grocery store every week. He remembers where everything was by heart.

I say beans? And he says aisle six next to the soups near the bottom. I say taco seasoning? And he says aisle two, right near the end of the aisle and up top.

I say I was a weird kid and he says now I’m a weird adult and I say sorry you have to take care of me.

And he says it’s okay.

***

The medication makes my legs not work. I can’t walk straight and I wobble everywhere. It hurts sometimes. I call for my dad when I need to use the restroom and he picks me up from the couch and walks me there and I pull down my pants as he sets me down.

I wake up in the middle of the night and I hurt all over. My dad runs in and asks what’s the matter and I say nothing, I’m just scared. He asks me if it was a nightmare and I say I forgot and he says do you want to watch a movie? And I say I don’t. I say I don’t want to die and he says me too and that he’s glad I don’t.

***

The doctor gives me two more months to live and I tell my dad I don’t want the pills anymore and he says he isn’t sure. And I promise him I will be different and he says as long as I still take my depression pills for him and I say okay.

We throw away all of my left over pills and a month goes by we are watching a lot of my favorite movies but my heart isn’t moving anymore and I feel scared and anxious.

He sees me trembling and says am I scared again? And I say yes, it’s worse today than yesterday and he asks me if I feel anything else and I say no. He wants to know if I want to go to Death Valley tonight and I say why and he says I’ll see. I put on a jacket and we drive an hour and a half and when we get there the sun is setting. He helps me out of the car and we go out in the middle and he sets out a blanket on the sand and he lays me down and I look up. The sun is gone now and I see a ton of stars and I say that there are more stars than normal and he says it’s because the light pollution in this area is so low that we can see more. We sit without talking for a half hour and I ask why he wants to bring me here and he says just wait so I wait. He tells me go to sleep which is easy to do I am so tired. He wakes me up and says look up and I look up and there is this huge dense band of stars in the middle of the sky. And I ask what is that? And he says the Milky Way. That we are looking at it straight-on like a Frisbee and that’s why that part of the sky is so dense with stars. I can see everything around me. I see the small mountains on the horizon and I see that the stars aren’t just white, but some are blue and purple and it makes the sky colorful. It’s so bright and soft and it feels safe. I can see the Milky Way moving from left to right in the sky and I realize that this is the only thing that I will ever see that will look bigger than the earth. It’s so big that I start to actually see the earth rotating. I can feel it too under my body and I start to feel it inside me and it makes my heart move so much. I feel like I am part of the earth and looking at the Milky Way up in the sky making the earth look so small makes me feel so big and I feel important and I don’t want to die. I watch it all night and my dad doesn’t say a word. The sky gets brighter and brighter as the sun gets closer to the horizon, but I can still see the Milky Way and I can still feel like I am the earth and the when the sun finally shares the sky with the Milky Way, I can’t see it anymore, but I know it’s still there in the sky and it makes me feel so safe and I don’t want to die and my heart is moving more than it ever has before.

I can feel the earth move wherever I go now and it makes me feel so big and meaningful. I wonder if this is what Mr. Harmonica or Lawrence or the samurai feel like.

I’m not scared anymore.

Matt's "Series of Omissions"

We get snippets of the life of the O'Connor family through omissions (but not really, that's just a style choice, and one I like at that) or rough drafts of the Dad's obituary.

So, I did like the style. It always reminds the reader of the father's death and makes the events that are told that more poignant. The events that are told are really emotionally charged and show the subtle observations that I think a writer should have. The passage about the fur coat, the passage about the hand holding, the passage about his plane set. Really great stuff and it's relatable as well. Something easy to see and easy to know as well.

It's also good that you show two sides of the father. The loving and the raging sides. And the complicated relationship that goes with all of that. It's great that it's not simple, but complex.

I could have used more though. I do feel like it's a bit short and ended too quickly. But otherwise, great job.

Also a song for you about memories:

Cole's "Status Quo"

Jake is an observer and a social scientist in that he collects data of people's behavior (more specifically their reactions to him) in his head. He wants the attention, but is still a little introverted. He is suspended and decides to collect data of the delinquents he has to sit with, and realizes that they are good people.

The diction the narrator uses really delights me. Jake calling the other students' behavior as data is great. Him calling detention a natural habitat. Calling the kids creatures. "I had never been able to pin the tail..." All that stuff is really good. I wished you used it a bit more, though. For instance he calls a joint a joint, and I wished he had called it something else, like a marijuana stick or something. Just to get away from the slang of the English language if you know what I mean.

The last line is also really great. I think a few more buzz buzzes would make it even more impactful though.

I also think that there needs to be a set up to how Jake views the kids in detention before the actual detention. Does he think they are terrible people? How does he view good and bad behavior? He doesn't seem to have an opinion on any of that stuff. I think we need that to really feel Jake's surprise at their actions.

Also here is a song that I feel like Jake would love:

A Quote I Loved from "American Pastoral"

"You fight your superficiality, your shallowness, so as to try to come at people without unreal expectations, without an overload of bias or hope or arrogance, as untanklike as you can be, sans cannon and machine guns and steel plating half a foot thick; you come at them unmenacingly on your own ten toes instead of tearing up the turf with your caterpillar treads, take them on with an open mind, as equals, man to man, as we used to say, and yet you never fail to get them wrong. You might as well have the brain of a tank. You get them wrong before you meet them, while you're anticipating meeting them; you get them wrong while you're with them; and then you go home to tell somebody else about the meeting and you get them all wrong again. Since the same generally goes for them with you, the whole thing is really a dazzling illusion empty of all perception, an astonishing farce of misperception. And yet what are we to do about this terribly significant business of other people, which gets bled of the significance we think it has and takes on instead a significance that is ludicrous, so ill-equipped are we all to envision one another's interior workings and invisible aims? Is everyone to go off and lock the door and sit secluded like the lonely writers do, in a soundproof cell, summoning people out of words and then proposing that these word people are closer to the real thing than the real people that we mangle with our ignorance every day? The fact remains that getting people right is not what living is all about anyway. It's getting them wrong that is living, getting them wrong and wrong and wrong and then, on careful reconsideration, getting them wrong again. That's how we know we're alive: we're wrong. Maybe the best thing would be to forget being right or wrong about people and just go along for the ride. But if you can do that--well, lucky you."

-Phillip Roth

Do People Really Do This?

chainsawsuit.com

Take Shelter (And Why It's My Favorite Film of 2011)

(I would have written more, but I decided not to get too specific, in case someone is interested in watching this.)

Plenty of films delve into the world of mental illness.  There's A Beautiful Mind, which is about accomplishing great things even with the biggest of obstacles in your way. There's Fight Club, which depicts someone whose illness ultimately redefines who they are. There's Awakenings, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Rain Man, Punch-Drunk Love, Pi, Me, Myself, and Irene, and plenty others. None of these, though, are really for people with mental illnesses. These films are about the mental illness itself and ultimately are for those who are interested in what having a mental illness is like.  To see through the eyes of someone who is suffering to better understand them. (For those really interested in feeling what it is like to suffer through depression, look no further than Lars von Trier's Antichrist and Melancholia  because holy crap.)

Take Shelter isn't like those films, though. This is ultimately a film for those who suffer through mental illness, and that is why it's such a great, unique film.

Take Shelter is about Curtis (played by the subtle, yet wonderful Michael Shannon), a construction worker with a loving family including a deaf daughter, who starts having nightmares with the largest and most ominous storm cloud you have ever seen as the back drop. These nightmares are not horror stories, terrifying and fearful, but filled with dread and anxious waiting, just like the film itself, which is slow paced and brooding. Very quickly, these nightmares seem to merge into his waking life. (In one dream he is attacked by his own dog and his arm is ripped to shreds. From the time he wakes up until he gets off work he can still  feel the pain in his arm.) We eventually learn that his family has had a history with paranoid schizophrenia, and Curtis starts to believe he has inherited the disease.

A storm is coming for Curtis (both symbolically and physically), a storm to end the world, and what does he do as a response? Keep his worries to himself and start to rebuild the storm shelter (again, symbolically and physically) in his back yard (which is only one of the actions that can only be described as logically illogical and that effect his family in a negative way).

The synopsis makes it seem like Take Shelter should belong in the list above, however, much of the film is ambiguous concerning Curtis's illness (Is he ill? Will his vision of an apocalyptic storm come true?), and the film never directly answers any questions the audience might have. However, like I said, this film isn't about the illness. It's about people who aren't sure how to deal with their illness. It's about how to cope with it and where to put your "shelter" or support. It's about getting better. It is not a coincidence that the film's title is in the form of a command.

Hint

What makes this film great is that it doesn't treat mental illness as a study. It's not about the symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia. It's not about what a person with paranoid schizophrenia is like. Instead, there's a message here. A message for those in Curtis's position. As for Curtis himself? His problems aren't going to go away, but that doesn't mean he can't find a way to make it manageable with a little help.

Incarnations of Burned Children

This is what I was trying to go for in my first story, with the long sentences and long paragraphs, but reading Wallace's story just makes me feel like I failed miserably. That's okay, though.

These long sentences create a sense of panic and urgency. There are few periods where you can stop and think about what you just read. You keep reading and keep going, and this puts you in the mindset of the Daddy even though the point of view is detached.

That we can get inside the head of the Daddy without actually getting there is an accomplishment in Wallace's writing. But the detachment also let's us feel the fear that the Daddy feels, but in our own way. He doesn't give us gruesome details of skin falling off or anything like that. He gives us details like the steam rising from the kid, the water in the baby's diaper. He's using one of the best rules that they use in horror movies like Jaws (which for the purpose of the argument, is a horror movie). We don't see the shark until much later in the film, giving us time to picture the shark ourselves. And our minds always go to the worst things possible. Here, Wallace shows us details, but not the worst of it, so we have to picture it ourselves. We picture what the child's skin looks like under the diaper and we feel that pain. We picture how hot it really would be to have your skin steaming.

The one thing he want's to stand out, is the sentence, "If you've never wept and want to, have a child." It's short and concise and isn't like the rest of the piece. He wants that sentence to be the one to remember.

God, I love David Foster Wallace.

Patrick's "Baking Cookies"

A story about a boy who is sexually abused by his mother without knowing it. (Also implications that while the act themselves are horrible, the reasonings behind them don't have to be?)

Okay, you said I would get squeamish reading this and I secretly denied it. (This is coming from a guy who likes to watch movies like Salo or Antichrist (never again, for reasons other than squeamishness) or Irreversible (a movie that inserts a noise that humans are unable to hear which can induce nausea) for fun. Hell, I had a screening for Salo and ten people showed up).

But I felt...I wouldn't say squeamish, but extreme discomfort. So nice job!

I think the thing that did it, that made the piece work so well, was the set up. At first I thought the scene was overly precious and overly sweet. You know how kids pretend to vomit whenever they see their parents kiss or something. Kind of like that. But it needs that in the beginning to make the abuse more discomforting.
And the overly preciousness tone takes on an extremely dark turn, which was very nice.

Two suggestions and one question:

Suggestion: I know that the kid-speak gives the story even more preciousness, but it got annoying to be honest. Kids don't call people they don't know Mrs. Lady. Especially when they are taking their mom's away.
Suggestion Two: I think that Matt should go all out tantrum mode when his mom is taken away. He should be scared. He has failed to protect his queen. He needs more emotion than quiet acceptance.
Okay three suggestions: Do you think we could get more specifics into his mom's psyche? I'm assuming that she felt no love from her husband, and had no outlet to feed her love (sexually) that she displaced those feelings onto Matt. But normally, those wives would just find another man, right? What makes the mother go for her son? I'm sorry, but for now I don't have any ideas on how to show this given the limited point of view, maybe I'll think of something before tomorrow.

I'll ask you the question during my respondent time.

Robert's "A Different Place"

I think it's very interesting that both of your stories involve a terrible that should have killed everyone involved.

"A Different Place" is a terrible wreck that happened in Liberia, half a world away from the narrator. He learns more and more what happened as his family and friends come back from Liberia. At the end we get a sentence that implies (?) that the narrator blames himself for what happened.

Anyway, I think your story has many interesting potentials for stories (I don't think the character changes throughout the piece). Seeing a father, who you once thought invulnerable, being extremely open and showing weakness, and realizing who your father really is is a subject I have a soft spot for.

Also the idea of someone blaming a terrible accident that happened somewhere across the world on themselves is also an interesting thing to delve into.

But none of those things are particularly given any time. We get a sentence about how his father was "a man that has shown [him] through some of the toughest times and now he's on a bed, helpless." I thought that was a really interesting thing, but that's all we get. I think you should delve more into that.

We also need the relationships of the characters established early on. I was wondering who Miss Stephanie, Robin, Nicole, Kate, Derrick were to the narrator. Aunt, cousins? We do get that Stephanie is his step mom, but that's it.

So I think you have potentials for interesting stories, but you aren't quite there yet.