Famous first and last lines

An Excerpt From
The Broom of the System
by David Foster Wallace
1981

 "Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet, and so does Mindy Metalman, Lenore notices, all of a sudden."

David Foster Wallace is the award-winning author of several short story and essay collections as well as two novels. Most recently, he is the author of the biography Everything and More: A Compact History of Infinity.
Born: February 21, 1962, Ithaca, NY
Died: September 12, 2008, Claremont, CA

Lenore navigates three separate crises: her great-grandmother's escape from a nursing home, a neurotic boyfriend, and a pet that can talk. She ends up going on an adventure to go and find her grandmother.
This book doesn't seem like one of the books that i would normally read. i generally like fantasy novels, but i wouldn't mind reading this one, it seems pretty cool.


The Great American Augie
Saul Bellow (10 June 1915 – 5 April 2005) was a Canadian-born American writer.

"Columbus too thought he was a flop, probably, when they sent him back in chains. which did not prove there was no america."

The story describes Augie March from childhood to a fairly stable maturity. Augie, with his brother Simon and the mentally abnormal George have no father and are brought up by their mother who is losing her eyesight. Augie drifts from one situation to another in a free-wheeling manner—jobs, women, homes, education and lifestyle.

This book is in no way something that i would be interested in. It seems a little too deep for my taste, i prefer the lighter book.

Writers as readers

What was the first book you remember reading?

                The first book I remember reading is the pout pout fish.  It is a story about a fish that was always upset about everything, and never has any fun. So he goes around the reef and asks the other sea creatures what he can do to get out of the rut he is in. they all sing to him, saying that he just needs to stop being such a bummer. He doesn’t listen until he saw a pretty lady fish. She went up and kissed him, and then instead of being the pout pout fish, he was the kiss kiss fish.

When you’re reading, what do you do to make yourself comfortable?

                I like to curl up on the couch that is near the front door. I like to also be by the window because I prefer natural lighting. I also like to have no music in the room whatsoever. I need it to be dead silent for the best reading to occur. I also prefer to be eating flaming hot Cheetos as I read. Generally none of these things happen though. I would normally have to hear my siblings playing, and the tv in the other room. But it’s okay, I can enjoy a book anywhere.  

What is your favorite book or series?

                My favorite series is the harry potter series. I love the feeling of thinking there could be another world out there. A world of magic. My favorite book from the series is the fourth one, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. This one is my favorite because of the triwizard tournament. This is when harry and several others were chosen to compete in monstrous tasks, and in the end Voldemort comes back. It is overall a very intense book, and I love the constant chills that it gives me. 

pillow talk

Dan and his sister Driff, lived in a land called Pillow Hill. They lived a very happy life. During the day they would play along the striped terrain of the hill. But at night they would sneak out of their beds, and go into the otherworld. The otherworld always had the one human in it. Her name is Lyla. She is a very small girl, only about three or four years old.

            When Dan, and Driff’s, parents would put them to bed they would wait until they hear them go to sleep. Then the children hopped out of their beds, and climbed out of their window. Usually when they go to the otherworld, it takes them about an hour to trek there, and an hour to trek back, so they can only stay for a few hours each night. 

            After about an hour they reached Lyla’s head. They climbed up her neck and went into her ear. They walked and walked until they reached the brain, or the door to the otherworld. They slipped themselves through the all too familiar hole, shivering with excitement, for what will be there tonight.

            Usually there is a land of candy, or a bed of roses, and teddy bears. The three of them would typically frolic in the other lands until it was time to go home. But this time was different. When the children arrived, there were no lights. No candy, or toys. There was nothing, but Lyla’s voice. She was in tears. They turned and saw that there was a giant monster chasing her around the other lands. The children quickly left their friend, and raced home. That was the last time they ever ventured away from Pillow Hill. 

the essence- a reoccurring dream

The essence

            I wake up and I am in a dark room. I know that I am indoors because of the overwhelming sense of being trapped. It is cold in the dark room. I know that I can’t get out, but I could at least try to find a light switch. So I walk and walk and try to find a wall, but here doesn’t seem to be any. So I decide to run in a direction. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore, then I collapsed. 

            I lay there until I heard a noise. I closed my eyes and rolled into a ball. It was here to kill me, I may as well make it easy. I lay there for what felt like hours in a cradle position shivering. I am not a religious person, I knew there was no god, or savior that was going to help me. Then I opened my eyes. I saw a light, not any specific entity, just a light. God? I thought to myself.

            Then the light came closer. The light slowly inched its way towards me. I lay there completely surrendering myself to this force. I hope that this is my savior, but I know better than that. I knew there was no goodness for me there. The cold began to intensify I saw that my fingers were purple. I curl in tighter, when the light began to touch me. The light began to choke the life out of me, and I lay there, unable to fight. Until it took the last of what I had, and then I wake up. 

The Sky- inspired by the caged bird

Caged Bird

I know why the sky is blue,

I know it’s blue because molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light.

I don't know why we care why the sky is blue,

It seems like knowing why serves as a restraint,

Ignorance is bliss,

Birds don’t care that the sky is blue.

Freedom means that you can think how you want

Nothing in this world can take away your freedom,

Being caged is locking that freedom up, just barely out of your reach

Singing your soul,

To let your freedom ride through your melody

I sing of my dreams,

My dreams of my family

My dreams of happiness

My dreams of not knowing,

Not knowing why the sky is blue

Flying up into the sky

The sky of mystery,

The sky of freedom.  

Flying away from the things threatening to weigh you down

writers dreaming

Writers dreaming

Question)           Angelou says she doesn’t even like to talk about her bad dreams because talking about them “gives them too much power”. Do you think talking about bad dreams, or bad news, or other bad things gives those bad things more power? When have you known this to happen?

Answer)             I don’t think that you should talk about the bad things that happen in your life too often. It doesn’t do well to dwell on the past. I think that you should get it out of your system once and then leave it at that. You don’t want these bad things to weigh on you throughout your life. So yes, I think that speaking about these things constantly gives them a power over you that it doesn’t deserve. This happens a lot today with teens and bullying. When someone says something bad to you, you just keep on rolling it through your head and it drives you mad. I don’t think that you should let these people do that to you though. They aren’t worth it, and neither are the other bad things that happen in our life.  

Question)           After going through a major trauma at age seven, Angelou didn’t talk for almost five years. Could you live this way? Do you talk too much, or too little? What could you learn if you listen more and spoke less? How could you grow as a person by speaking more?

Answer)             Each and every person has their own mind, their own opinions. There are many things in this world that people are at a constant debate about. If even one of these people had the right idea and didn’t speak up then the system would be at an imbalance. I think that everyone should speak out. I don’t like the idea of a little girl with such a bright young mind, not voicing her wonderful opinions. I could never be one who stays silent. I always need to express myself and what I believe in. As do many people. Now I know that there are people out there who think that they have nothing to say. That their lives are so boring that their life story doesn’t matter, but really it does. Not only can you make a difference by speaking up, but you can make an even bigger one by listening. A lot of people have experienced things in their lifetime that others wouldn’t even dream of. Others have a rougher lifestyle and are humbled by the experience. Maya Angelou for example was raped as a child. This caused her to lose her will to speak, in fear that her words didn’t matter. But look at how many lives she has effected by her story. Her many experiences helped people shape their lives. As could anyone’s story. You never know what your words can mean to someone, until you speak them. I think that if all people, found it in their hearts to speak up, that we would all benefit from their story. 

The Escape, inspired by dream threads

The escape Inspired by dream threads

            He was trapped in a small, compact room with bright shards of glass protruding from every available surface. He looked around for a way out, but saw nothing but the opaque splinters on each wall. How did I get into this mess? He thought. Though he knew the answer to that question. Her. He saw her walking down the street, while on his way home from work. Then, he saw the gigantic men jump out from their concealed position, and take her.  Feeling heroic, he went after them. Once he started running though, he didn’t remember much else. That is until he woke up in here.

            What am I going to do? He asked himself. That was when he started to tear at the crystal. Chunk by chunk, he broke the black shards, trying to make a hole in the room. It had felt like hours had passed and he had torn away at least 50 pounds of glass by this point, all of it resting at his feet and knees. He saw a hole. Gathering the remainder of his strength, he pulled back his arm and slammed his fist through the hole as fast as he could. The entire wall shattered in a very loud shriek. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they would come back for him. So he ran. He ran through the rest of the security room and up a flight of stairs. From there he saw that he was in the old bar downtown, and he walked out the door calmly, hiding hid bloody fist.

            As he was walking, he remembered the girl. Was it really in his best interest to go back? He thought. He didn’t want to imagine the horrendous things they might be doing to that poor girl. At that thought, he turned around. He walked back into the bar, and looked at the counter. He saw that a man with a hunting rifle was having a drink. When he thought the hunter wasn’t looking, he took the gun and headed downstairs. Stealthily, he looked around the room he had recently broken out of, and saw that there was nobody there. So he took a left down a dark hallway where he saw a room with a cracked door.

            He opened it slowly, and saw a round table with the same large men around it. But what he didn’t expect to see was the girl. She was sitting at the table yelling at the men. “How could you let him escape!” she shouted. “I give you one job, put him in the chamber. And then guard it. Do you realize how badly we need this man! Do you know how much work I had done to get him here? Do you!” she scorned. I decided that I had to get out, now. I tried to sneak back away from the crack when I bumped into something hard. I slowly turned my head and saw one of the giant men staring down at me smiling. Then I began to panic. So I shot him. I quickly dropped the gun and ran up the stairs. I ran so quick, that I lost my shoes on the stairs, but I didn’t care, they were slowing me down anyways. I quickly ran out of the bar, and took a right. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get where they couldn’t find me. I had not one clue where this magical safe place was but I just ran. My feet were rough against the sidewalk as I made my escape. 

a Wondrous World of Color

In a Wondrous World of Color.

The boy’s skin was blue. Not in that cobalt hue, but more so a sky blue. His sapphire eyes peered into mine as he looked in my direction. The blues don’t usually look at us, their arctic feelings don’t mix well with my people’s heat. And yet, I can’t take my eyes off of their admiral stone world.

       It is because I am a red. My long scarlet hair resembles the flow of blood. My people’s skin is blush with hints of currant, to represent our passion and anger. My eyes are the color of sangria, and my lips a cherry garnet. Our heated appearance represents our culture, who we are.

       Someday I want to live in the purple. The amethyst wonderland in which both of our kind, the calm, and the passionate can come together in peace. Where the adults mostly range in varying shades of red and blue, it is the children who really stand out. Some of them are plum, others magenta. I saw a baby a light shade of boysenberry. Someday I want to live in the purple, to live in equality.

       At least I don’t live in the black. The obsidian trees and walkways, reflecting off of the jade water. Nobody wants to live in the black. The animals, all a raven color, and the people, well, you can’t see. Once you have accepted yourself into the onyx prison, you can never come back. You sit and spiral into an ebony of depression. I don’t know what it’s like there, but I don’t want to find out. 

       I am a red. I will most likely stay as a red. Maybe I will continue to yearn for a blue, to go live happily in the purple. But I am stuck in the red. 

The spill-inspired by paint color

The Spill 

The cherry wine 

Spilled on the carpet, making a radient fizz 

The azaleas went to get a

Clematis petal to clean up the,  

pretty pink colored,

orchid flavored beverage

Off of the rug that was now a light china aster.

Haiku of chocolate

Dark French chocolate meets Bittersweet chocolate 

Dark French chocolate,

Was walking down the stairwell,

 Meets the bittersweet.  

The sweet chocolate,

Was real startled by the French,

Didn’t move an inch. 

Fiery Red-acrostic using a paint color

Fiery Red 

F ound

I n the

E enchanted forest, searching for

R ed and

Y yellow flowers, but the flowers

R an away from

E veryone and headed

D own the stream to safety. 

The Enchanted glow-inprired by a disney paint chip

  The enchanted glow by Glenda Parsons 

Present: Her aura was off today, he thought. Generally she had a certain dark pigment surrounding her. But, for some unknown reason, today it was different.

Before: She was hunting in the abandoned science labs from before the regeneration of the Earth. She had her spear at the ready, waiting for any animal to come by. She wanted to bring an offering for the spirit at the meeting today. The spirit had always been good to the people, and even better to those who provide for the village. You had to stand out for the spirit to notice you, you had to help everyone survive. Just then she saw a light coming from the other side of the room. It was in a beaker on the old rusted lab table. When she had last hunted here it wasn’t there, so it must be a new invention. On the beaker it said CAUTION   TOXIC. But she didn’t care. She looked at it with a wonder in her eyes. This could be my chance, she thought, my chance to appease the spirit. Without another thought on the subject she picked up the container and gave it a quick sniff. It smelt just fine, so she put the beaker to her lips and began to drink. She winced at the awful flavor, but drank the remaining liquid anyways. She felt very warm. Maybe the spirit has recognized me, she thought. And at that thought she remembered the meeting, so she took her spear, wiped her mouth and ran towards the colony.  

Present: He saw her eyes turn green. Everyone had brown eyes in the community. He looked at her intensely, and saw a more yellow hue to her skin. She began festering in her chair, and he wondered if he should help her. As he began to move towards her, he was stopped in his tracks. Her toes lifted off of the ground and her torso was being pulled up to the sky. The community all stared at her in awe. The chief, muttered something that I couldn’t hear and ran towards her. He took off his crystal of leadership, and presented it before her. He and everyone else had kneeled down in a bowing position. “She has the Spirit,” chief said. “The enchanted glow!” He spoke in awe. Then she let out a large shriek, and she suddenly went limp. Then her lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud. She was gone.