Tell us where you live - specifically if you
Because the past is constantly shaping the present, we need to know something about your past. In this next blog, recount something from your past that reveals something about your character in the present. Remember, this addition is about character development. For example, looking at a picture of someone on your refrigerator, or a piece of clothing that reminds you of some event, an avoidance of something because of a negative experience. Drug use does not count as an implicit reference to your past problems. By recounting something, you are showing rather than telling.
I took the current list of characters and counted 6 spaces to the next character on the list and that is who you are interacting with in this next blog post. Don't worry, the original list isn't alphabetical, but it is based on the last set of interactions. Here's the list. The person on the left should write his/her blog at least by Sunday afternoon so the other character can response. If you are the other character, you can write #3 when you wish, or wait until Sunday if you want to engage with the other character.
Remember, if you didn't incorporate another character that you were paired with in blog #2, do so in #3. You can have TWO interactions. If the character you are paired with has not completed his/her second blog, use the one that's there. If you wish, curse them under your breath.
Character interactions:
Magdalene –Laine
Jessica – Ann
Clive – Cole
Christine – your shop is burglarized
Kaden – Forrest
Lucia – Troy
Charlie - Marcus
Lane – Yesu
Carmen – Frank
Archie – Hazel
Ginger – Senka
Maxwell – Alice
Rick – Luna
Angel – Serenity
Della – Tyler
Taylor - Catherine
Anna - Cameron
Setting:
Cold, it snows - 3 feet of snow. 2nd floor pipe brakes.
Event:
4:00 AM - six apartments, Senka, Luna, Serenity, Cole, Lane, Angel are searched by the police
3:00 PM Hot-box the entire hallway on the 3rd floor.
6:00 PM Speed dating at the Sunnyside up diner! Brian will be there.
Common character:
Craig hosts a bowling tourney
Motif:
Mother was rich and she was curious about the world, a combination that is very conducive to a satisfying life. (from Charlie Lemon)
ReplyDeleteShe must have gotten tired of me and decided I was no use for her.
ReplyDeleteTheir stench of loneliness and nervous sweat took me back home to the memories of helping Mom get ready for her loser dates.
ReplyDeleteShe always said that writing was the best way to remember. She said that a poem is like a fishing net that catches fish-but the fish were memories. I told her that I hated fish because they tasted like sewage and hotdogs were better.
ReplyDeleteI’ve spent the past seven years trying to get away from Dreamwood, from this place. But here I am, once a child of the system, always a child of the system.
ReplyDeleteLooking at the broken bottle of scotch, he remembered another broken bottle, one from his past. In high school, his father had been an alcoholic and a carouser, treating Lane's mother like absolute shit, abusing her, and sleeping with other women. One night, he came home drunk, and Lane tried to defend his mother from him. A whiskey bottle was thrown against the wall that night, and Lane received his first punch from his father.
ReplyDeleteI promised not to say his name ever again, it's hard...
ReplyDeleteBy then the pipe had grown filthy: with murky water and the streaks and taints of carcinogens, it didn't stand out in an equally dirty environment. Legs, however, had been getting cleaner.
ReplyDeleteRain seems so angry while it dives and throws itself at the ground in a hurry like business people at the airport wearing their Armani ties and scowls. Snow is like the little children at the airport that are on their way to celebrate thanksgiving.
ReplyDeleteI've put so much of myself into my music: the infrastructure of my mind, the contours of my emotions, all within the lyrics of a song. Its scary.
ReplyDelete“I’m old enough to bowl a strike with no guards,” she said.
ReplyDelete(Della Reed)
Archie mentioned how the entire third floor got hotboxed, and they spent quite a while determining how someone could come up with enough weed to hotbox an entire floor.
ReplyDeleteThats one of the reasons I wanted to join the Marines. I wanted to meet people and build some lasting relationships, but most of those possible relationships got blown up or shot
ReplyDelete"The snow is piling up outside and the bills are piling up on my coffee table." Anna C. Baker.
ReplyDeleteHe lived a bachelor lifestyle out of that apartment, filled with work, booze, broads, and as of late, cocaine.
ReplyDeleteCards were thrown across the room by the suits, drifting softly to the ground like the white orbs. Under the table, where Luna lay covered in several collections of polaroids and dried out sage, a tarot card floated between the floor and velvet cloth.
ReplyDeleteOnly I was far less romanticized, in real life no one romanticizes the starving artist.
ReplyDeleteSnow takes its time on its way down from the sky and enjoys the view of the world at different heights.
ReplyDeleteI watch the snowflakes outside my window serenely mosey their way through the air. (Troy C. Holden)
ReplyDeleteMemories stormed the impenetrable walls of Catherine’s mind, forcing their way into cracks sealed by the passage of time and flinging themselves over the ramparts only to assault Catherine with image after image awoken from deep within the recesses of her mind.
ReplyDeleteHe’s stuck between feeling impressed, jealous, and somewhat disgruntled in the people he calls his neighbors.
ReplyDelete"Anger crept up my throat, or was it fear that strangled me?"
ReplyDelete"Sadly, in doing so, I got to know my boy through observation, and what I saw, I didn't like."
ReplyDelete(Cole Harrison)
"Taking a deep drag on her cigarette, she is mesmerized by the falling snowflakes, dainty and dreamy as they float down to the ground, then heavy and wet as they meet the dirty slush of urban wintertime." -Ann Reynolds
ReplyDeleteI could almost taste the sweat dripping off of this man like swear. Clive Buccatti
ReplyDeleteIt reminded him of the "Appa (Dad) where were you?" and the silent, distant glares like he didn't recognize his own son.
ReplyDeleteAs one of the officers searched Ángel’s room, he pulled a small package out of Ángel’s dresser. He shook it and it exploded in a flash of crimson and searing white. Fabric streamed out in the wind, unfolding to blood red rectangle.
ReplyDeleteThe images were faint, projecting blurry silhouettes blinded by a white background.
ReplyDelete