Journal Entries
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Joe
Posted Dec 14, 2007
Joe was a writer. His first novel was noted for its genius and it got 5 stars from every reviewer. It sold two copies, both of them to his mother. His second novel was a startling two hundred page text raving about the lunacy of a world in which people don’t appreciate modern art. The reviews were mixed and it was an instant bestseller. Joe wanted to write another book raving about the absolute idiocy of buying a book complaining that you didn’t buy another book, but decided against it because he couldn’t think of a good first line. Instead, he decided to write about an author who wrote a best selling novel complaining about the poor sales of a book no one read.
Joe prides himself on his tidying. Joe’s wife used to tell Joe to tidy the house, since he was at home all the time and she had to go to work. Joe could spend hours organizing things into different groups. “Things we spent a lot of money on and use a lot,” “Things we spent a lot of money on and never used,” and “Things we spent a lot of money and can’t figure out what to do with,” are the standard groups for the living room. The kitchen is a little bit more complex and the kid’s bedrooms can take up weeks to do a good job on. Joe had an interesting system of tidying. He would take, let’s say, three items from one place and find, let’s say, three possible places to put them. He would then put each of the three items in each of the three different places. Therefore, anyone who wanted to find one of these, let’s say, cell phones would have to look in three different places before finding his own. After a couple of hours spent trying to find her purple lipstick, Joe’s wife decided that from now Joe would only be allowed to tidy the attic.
Joe’s oldest child is called Charlotte. She is a shy awkward girl with the highest GPA in the entire school. Joe’s middle child is called Jack and is the most popular kid in the seventh grade. He’s two years younger than his older sister. Joe’s youngest is called Zack, but he calls him Zoek, because it sounded stupid to call out, “Jack and Zack!” Joe’s wife says that it sounds even stupider to call out, “Jack and Zoek!” but Joe rarely listens to his wife, and when he does,he regrets it. This is partly because Joe’s wife talks a lot, but it is mostly because Joe couldn’t care less about a thing his wife said, if, of course, it doesn’t have to do with cleaning out the attic. Joe’s wife is called Jeanne J. The J. is for Josephine, because when they got married, Joe wanted Jeanne to change her name to Josephine, but she would only agree to change it to her middle name.
Zoek is in third grade and is extremely weird, which is regarded by both his siblings as an understatement. He had an imaginary friend named Libule whom he didn’t like very much. Although Joe never had the chance to meet Libule, he had figured, from Zoek’s explanation that he was a bullie. Zoek said that Libule stole things from him but Joe had a haunch that Libule was just an excuse for all the things that Zoek lost, such as Joe’s first Joepad. Joepads where ordinary pads Joe writes all his stories in. Joe had dozens of Joepads scattered around the house. When Zoek lost Joe’s first Joepad, Joe didn’t sleep for four days since he was to busy writing everything he could remember unto his second Joepad.
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Latest reply: Dec 14, 2007
Autumn
Posted Dec 14, 2007
As my parents and I walked alongside the stream, we noticed the first signs of autumn. Leaves of all shapes and sizes lay scattered across the ground; some a sunny shade of yellow, some apple red, and some the color of grass. Sun beams struggled through the canopy and there were many shadows everywhere. The sun danced on the stream, and at times, the water was blinding. The air was abundant with the smell of autumn in the woods.
We could hear bird calls from all corners of the woods, though they were slightly muffled by the crackling sound of leaves and branches under our feet. The water made a soft, calm, noise, while the wind swished through the leaves. Occasionally my parents would talk for a short while before each went back to his or her own thoughts. The faint, chaotic sounds of the highway could be faintly heard whenever the trail approached the road.
In the afternoon, we took a short break to sit on the bank next to the stream. The air felt fresh, and the flies buzzed harmoniously above the water. I stepped into the shallow stream and it was so cold I felt as if I had received an electric shock.
When we resumed our walk, we passed through open fields, hills, and roads. We came across rusted dishwashers and other types of waste. We went uphill and then downhill until we could once again hear the faint gurgles of the stream. The marks on the trees began to look familiar, and we were suddenly jerked back to reality as the shade of the Seneca River trees turned into the sunny parking lot. We had been walking for four hours but the magic of the woods made it seem as if we were there for four days.
As we drove past skyscrapers on the way home, I could see the shadows that the sun made through the buildings. I could hear the swishing of cars. I was stricken by the obnoxious honking of the highway. We had gotten back to reality.
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Latest reply: Dec 14, 2007
Blabber Mouth
Posted Dec 14, 2007
Welcome to the land of the people who talk all day but have nothing to say. Actually, they write all day not talk and it’s not a land, it’s a paper. See, I just started and I’m already blabbering away. Cool, blabbering is a real word. I never knew that. See? Learn something new every day. I don’t really think that saying is true, though. I’m sure when you’re a baby, kid, adult and so on; I’m sure just one day of your life you must have not learned something new. Even just one person in the world must have not learned something one day. I must now discuss with you, not face to face, but print to face, the importance of you reading this to the end. I must tell you this now before you decide to stop. Listen, because this is not a blabber. I can’t explain this to you print to face, but if you read this through you will find one of the many answers to life. Although it does not look like it this is a work of not art but philosophy. Yes, it is a philosophy. You will find a new meaning in this writing, but to find it you must read all the way through. I could not stress this enough. Now that I have your full attention, or so I hope, I must give you the health policy. Yes, there is a health policy. Anything that happens to such as addiction to nonsense, suicide from boredom or anything of the type is not my fault and I will not be held responsible. No, I am not joking and yes, it can happen. To make sure this doesn’t happen anyway, I will not leave my name or any other private information on this paper which is the paper of the people who write all day but have nothing to write. Yes, you are still welcome to it. Now back to the blabbering which you must read. Notice that I have not used indenting, skipping lines, large font, complex font or anything of the sort. I am not a faker. My writing is long, genuine long. I have really blabbered all this. Even blabbered is a word? This whole thing is getting out of hand. Where does that come from, out of hand? That really makes no sense. It is night here in the paper of writers so I will rest and think of more things to blabber to you tomorrow. To you it won’t be tomorrow, you’ll just read it with everything else. Anything War can do, Peace can do better.
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Latest reply: Dec 14, 2007
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iyasur
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