I got a present!
I got a present!
This post has been redone.
* Right now she’s supposed to be writing two articles: one is on the Honors program and the other is on invested professorships. Until a few weeks ago, she had no idea what an invested professorship was. Apparently it’s like a grant for professors awarded by extremely benevolent benefactors or groups of people. The hardest part of her job is transcribing interviews, mostly because you never realize how much people say “Uh, um, like, ah,” along with other hesitation noises or repeat themselves until you have to listen to a recording of their voice over and over again. Those noises ruin some of the best quotes.
Sometimes she doubts herself and feels like she’s going to be a bad reporter because when people make hesitation noises during an interview she makes a cringe face because that quote that sounded so eloquent and full of emotion was just ruined by the interviewee saying “well, you know,” smack dab in the middle of it. Other times she doesn’t know if she should be a reporter at all. Some days she dreams about being a professional mattress tester or bubblewrap examiner. She believes she would be an excellent mattress tester personally.
2. Eating lunch**
** Her fiance made her lunch today. He made her a sandwich and gave her two packs of cheese crackers, a Mountain Dew Code Red, and a can of vienna sausages. With no fork. Her choices consist of eating the wee little weiners with her fingers and risk losing a digit to the unforgiving sharp metal edges of the can or staring at it blankly and hoping the sausage fairy comes to her assistance. Somehow this seems like a scene out of a SAW movie.
***Granted, she is still at work, but she also knows she’s not the first person with a desk job who’s fantasized about making a fort in the knee space beneath their desk. Seriously, all she needs is a pillow and a little curtain and she’d be fine. It would be a nice place to spend her lunch breaks. Her can of vienna sausages could keep her company.
4. Staring into the abyss quietly****
****Unfortunately, much of the time she spends writing turns into this. She believes the abyss is the only thing that doesn’t mind if she stares at it while the slow, grinding wheels of inspiration turn in her head. Most people get weirded out by her staring into space. Probably because the space she’s staring at is directly to the left of their head. Sometimes she stares at a downward angle and cocks her head to the side with a semi-vacant expression on her face. Inspiration (a.k.a. the abyss) lives in weird places. The abyss is a good listener when she’s talking to herself too. She wonders if the abyss likes vienna sausages. Or has a fork.
5. Screaming into the abyss*****
*****The abyss does not have a fork. And does not like being yelled at. That is all.*^*
*^*The abyss does like vienna sausages however.
Us readers, we read this book for the experimental fiction class which us readers take together which is in a room in which a class is held. Us readers, some of us liked it. Us readers, some of us didn’t. Us readers don’t agree on much. Us readers, sometimes we fight like cats. Other times we disagree like dogs.
What us readers who were not disturbed by the stories of the good brothers want you to remember is that these stories they are not dead-ends. There are no do-not-go-any-further-points in these stories of the good brothers. What us readers who were not disturbed by the stories want you other readers to take away, what us readers want you readers to know is that these stories are what you make of them. They are stories of mud and mud of stories. There are fish and boys that become fish and there is Girl who is a mother, mountain, sister, tree, moon, and lover. They are stories of what you dream and fear and hope. They are stories that only make sense if you don’t want them to make sense, they are stories that complement and contradict one another.
In this book of the brothers there are stories that made us readers happy, there are sections that made us readers sad or concerned, and there are parts that made us readers want to shake our heads and say, “Us readers, we understand.”
Us readers, we know what you brothers mean when you say that when you dive into the moon it shatters into a billion pieces and when you say, “Each broken chunk becomes a star”. Us readers, we also look for the stars that are falling and imagine them to be, “a burning match-stick, a still-lit cigarette flicked out of the window of a speeding car”. Us readers, we’ve had these feelings and with the help of you good brothers we know now what they mean.
Good, Peter Markus.