The Poetist

From time to time I post stuff that I’ve written when I go to the (monthly) Tokyo Writers’ salon. The group welcomes, works with, and encourages all genres and types of writing, but personally I always choose to do non-fiction. That’s what I’m most comfortable with and generally interested in producing. At last weeks’ meeting, however, the organizer gave us an exercise wherein we had to create a character. We had to write a character and then we had to do something with it, so here is my attempt at fiction:

Joan, 31
brown eyes
lives alone in a 3 bedroom house
her car is not fuel efficient
she has a boyfriend of 2 years that she’s hoping will become a fiancé
she’s ok with having kids at a late age, say 37 or 38 cause she believes in medicine
her vacations alternate between visiting family and going somewhere warm
she prefers to relax over sightseeing
she’s ok reading books about faraway places and cultures, she doesn’t feel the need to go there.

The directions: imagine a coat. Imagine the pocket of the coat. Imagine what’s in the pocket. (your character is being followed)

Joan has a nice coat. Stylish but not trendy. Expensive but not flashy. Boring, some might say. Classic, say others. The inside of the coast has a convenient pocket. Joan likes to put relevant pieces of paper there when she’s running errands. I’m not sure what is in there right now because Joan is running many errands today. But I do know that Joan is being followed.

She doesn’t notice. She’s quietly chiding herself for the resurgence of one of her many imperfections. An imprefection that her boyfriend would dismiss, as would and did anybody else who knew her because she was a very capable and accomplished woman. But the imperfections bothered her, and in those moments her slight imperfections dwarfed the world.

Joan was going nowhere special. Nowhere out of the ordinary. She wasn’t afraid because she was comfortable living in a city. Completely comfortable – not like those other people who tell their families elsewhere that the city is ’so safe’, but then are too scared to ride the bus alone after dark. No, Joan wasn’t scared today, but she should have been. And had she known she was being followed she would have been. She wasn’t scared of the city or the people in it, but she was scared of one person. If she knew she was being folllowed she would have been scared, but she would also have the plan.

She has a plan. She was given a plan, because she also has secrets.

If I were a tree climber I’d climb that tree.
Look at that easy foothold there. Look at those branches – They’re pretty thick; they look great for climbing. If I were a tree climber I’d love to climb that tree.

If I were an academic I’d have loved my classes.
Regardless of other details and distractions I would have sought refuge in learning. If I were an academic, I would have been the best student.

If I were a guy I would read Esquire magazine and wear slim-fitting vintage-inspired t-shirts. I might also do these things if my girlfriend bought them for me. If I were a guy I would email that amazing girl I met in Tokyo.

If I were organized I would have a water-tight budget.
I would never try to change the dates of a shift-swap signed and stamped. I never would have used a credit card and I would have visited 6 new countries by now. If I were organized.

If I were other people, other things, I would have said more, done more, seen more and saved more. If I were other things I would be other things; but there would always be a collection of things I am not.

Sometimes, when I’m not interested in teaching a regular Nova lesson, I have my students blindly choose from a list of phrases (found in the teacher’s room) and have them create a story from the phrases. I did a lesson like that today, but this time I participated as well. Each story was written in 10min.:

One night I was walking home from work, jamming to my iPod as usual. Before I knew it, sharp teeth plunged into my neck and I sank to the ground. And then – it was only then – that I noticed a dark shadow had fully encompassed my neighborhood – streetlights and barking dogs included. The next thing I knew, I woke up! I was on the Chuo line pulling into Mitaka station. A little disturbed by my dream, I put on my music to power myself for the walk home. Rounding the final corner before my house I noticed another pedestrian in the street. In that moment I realized that I hadn’t been dreaming, as I leapt up to sink my teeth into the neck of my neighbor.

Required phrases: before I knew it, sharp teeth, and then, a dark shadow, the next thing I knew.

A strange noise pierced the cold wind swirling around their secluded country home. The family was gone, leaving only the dog to register the eerie noise. The floorboards began to creak and faint voices and shuffling noises could be heard – as if this strange turn of events was straight from a terrible nightmare of Tim Burton or Stephen King. All of a sudden the front door of the house swung open to reveal a long dark road that in the daytime functioned as the family’s private driveway. The whimpering dog witnessed a parade of the undead file into the house. They silenced the dog, and waited for the family to return.

Required phrases: a strange noise, a cold wind, a terrible nightmare, all of a sudden, a long dark road.

Today was one of those days where I wake up, and just don’t feel like doing Tokyo. I challenged myself to put these feelings in words; This is what I came up with. I titled it as the name of my blog on purpose. The former title, Carrying the Banner, also had an associated poem.