sindy chapbook

8/7/2019 sindy chapbook

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PowerwritesTyped

Part II


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PowerwritesHand Written

Part II


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FCE #7

Rhythm & Sound

Part Idancing caballo dorado

watching a moviewalking your dog

taking a towergoing through a crash

one sentence storyThe party is going on and that song hasn't been play therefore it has to come up soon, it cumbias

and merrengue, the dj then starts talking, this has to be it and then the pum pum pum no rompasmas mi probre corazon. close fists socking the air on top and right feet stopping onto the

floor, there are little yeys out loud as enthusiastic crowd rush into the dance floor, pushing theychairs out of their way as they hold the persons hand in front of them, so like in every dance

everyone is looking around to find the person that looks like she actually knows what she isdoing, the slow version starts and there are old women and young children all attempting to

fallow her, some catch up others are just spinning into circle thinking they are not making a foolout of themselves, two steps to the right, two to the left two to the back oh one forward back andthen flit around, the same step over and over again and it is still difficult for the circle spinning

characters, specially the drunk ones who didnt bother putting their drink down before going intothe dance floor expecting for it not to spill in the wooden surface, then the microphone amplifies

the DJ voice asking if were ready, as I look around to see nervous smile on the dancers faces,the sound of the violin brings flashback of the cattle and the crocodile boots, the heat of every

one around make it even warmer, I pad my face with a napkin trying to avoid spearing my makeup, then I wait for the three beat of the drums that indicate the violin is about to get faster, the

same steps but faster and there are still those idiots that stayed but now spinning plus jumping, so

not only do I have to keep my balance as I dances to the rythem with 6 inch heals but I have toavoid the alcohol puddles near my feet, but that is not the tricky part, the tricky part it to do thisfor more the 4 minute straight with no resting, not even to catch my breath, it is like running a

mile when you dont have the condition and when you think it is about to finish the sound of theviolin just get faster, the drop of sweat comes down from my forehead to my cheek, by this time

my foundation seem to have been red and not my skin color, my feet begin to burn, my legs areshaking but there are about two hundred eyes looking straight at me because Im one of the few

bodies in middle if the dance floor, so I keep on going like the energy bunny and then the taratara tara tara tara raraaaaaa and then the two hundred hands meet each other in pairs to celebrate

those who made it to the end.

2. The song must come up soon because it hasnt been played. The song starts and the peoplesitting down get up to the dance floor. Some dont know that they are about to do so they look

around. The begin following one of the people that is dancing well. Others are just dancing incircle not looking sane enough. Everyone moves to the sides, back and forth. The Dj asked

though the microphone if we are ready. Some people look nervous and the fast song begins toplay. The song reminds me of cattle and crocodile boots. I wipe the sweat of my face. The song

gets faster and the people that dont know how to dance are still there. I have to balance in 6 ichheals, avoid the spilage of alcohol on the floor and dance through 4 minutes. When you dont


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have conditionit is like running a mile and then the song only gets faster. your body begins tofeel weird. The color my faces changes. I keep on ogoin guntil the music stop and people start

clapping.

If I did it correctly, the story gets alot more shorter, and alot more boring. There are only straight

foward facts that do not trasmit any emotion like when you right in one sentence. My story whenalong with the only one sentence because it kept the story flowing. My story was about a nonstop dance in a non stop sentence.

3. The party is going on and that song hasn't been played therefore it has to come up soon, it

cumbias and merrengue, the dj then starts talking, this has to be it and then the pum pum pum norompas mas mi probre corazon. The close fists socking the air on top and right feet stopping

onto the floor. There are little yeys out loud as enthusiastic crowd rush into the dance floor,pushing they chairs out of their way as they hold the persons hand in front of them. Like in

every dance everyone is looking around to find the person that looks like she actually knowswhat she is doing. The slow version starts and there are old women and young children all

attempting to fallow her, some catch up others are just spinning into circle thinking they are notmaking a fool out of themselves. The dance goes two steps to the right, two to the left two to the

back oh one forward back and then flit around, the same step over and over again and it is stilldifficult for the circle spinning characters, specially the drunk ones who didnt bother putting

their drink down before going into the dance floor expecting for it not to spill in the woodensurface. The microphone amplifies the DJ voice asking if were ready, as I look around to see

nervous smile on the dancers faces, the sound of the violin brings flashback of the cattle and thecrocodile boots, the heat of every one around make it even warmer. I pad my face with a napkin

trying to avoid spearing my make up, then I wait for the three beat of the drums that indicate theviolin is about to get faster. The same steps but faster and there are still those idiots that stayed

but now spinning plus jumping. Not only do I have to keep my balance as I dance to the rythemwith 6 inch heals but I have to avoid the alcohol puddles near my feet, but that is not the tricky

part, the tricky part it to do this for more the 4 minute straight with no resting, not even to catchmy breath, it is like running a mile when you dont have the condition and when you think it is

about to finish the sound of the violin just get faster, the drop of sweat comes down from myforehead to my cheek, by this time my foundation seem to have been red and not my skin color,

my feet begin to burn, my legs are shaking but there are about two hundred eyes looking straightat me because Im one of the few bodies in middle if the dance floor, so I keep on going like the

energy bunny and then the tara tara tara tara tara raraaaaaa and then the two hundred hands meeteach other in pairs to celebrate those who made it to the end.


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Part II1. Verbs

played talking talking socking stopping pushing hold looking to find looks starts thinkingmaking flit putting expecting amplifies brings pad trying spearing wait indicate stayed spinning

jumping danced avoid resting catch running think comes shaking looking going meet celebrate

Nounsparty song corazon fists crowd floor chairs person dance everyone women children charactersdrink floor wooden surface microphone DJ smile dancers faces sound cattle crocodile boots

napkin make up beat drums idiots 6 inch heals alcohol puddles breath mile violin drop sweatforehead cheek skin feet legs eyes bodies dance floor energy bunny hands

Sound

They are very common words. The verbs are a bit more stronger in there sound. Theysound some aggresive at the beginning.They give a type of adrenatine that I am trying to express.

There is a lot going on in this one place.


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FCE #8

The Lesson

2. Back in the days when everyone was old and stupid or young and foolish and me and Sugar

were the only ones just right, this lady moved on our block with nappy hair and proper speech

and no makeup. And quite naturally we laughed at her, laughed the way we did at the junk manwho went about his business like he was some big-time president and his sorry-ass horse hissecretary. And we kinda hated her too, hated the way we did the winos who cluttered up our

parks and pissed on our handball walls and stank up our hallways and stairs so you couldn'thalfway play hide-and-seek without a goddamn gas mask. Miss Moore was her name. The only

woman on the block with no first name. And she was black as hell, cept for her feet, which werefish-white and spooky. And she was always planning these boring-ass things for us to do, us

being my cousin, mostly, who lived on the block cause we all moved North the same time and tothe same apartment then spread out gradual to breathe. And our parents would yank our heads

into some kinda shape and crisp up our clothes so we'd be presentable for travel with MissMoore, who always looked like she was going to church though she never did. Which is just one

of the things the grownups talked about when they talked behind her back like a dog. But whenshe came calling with some sachet she'd sewed up or some gingerbread she'd made or some

book, why then they'd all be too embarrassed to turn her down and we'd get handed over allspruced up. She'd been to college and said it was only right that she should take responsibility for

the young ones' education, and she not even related by marriage or blood. So they'd go for it.Specially Aunt Gretchen. She was the main gofer in the family. You got some ole dumb shit

foolishness you want somebody to go for, you send for Aunt Gretchen. She been screwed intothe go-along for so long, it's a blood-deep natural thing with her. Which is how she got saddled

with me and Sugar and Junior in the first place while our mothers were in a la-de-da apartmentup the block having a good ole time.

A. 15 year old, sacasticly nice, smart

C. When Sugar and I were little, we had a new neighbor move into our block. Her name was Ms.

Moore, a woman who was always very flashy and said everything the right way. Her face wasalways clean spotless and she had her own particular hair hair. It was quite comical that she

worked so hard to maintain a perfect image. She became a concrete wall in the middle of thestreet during our playtime, that we were not so happy to deal with. It was absolutely hard for us

to like her because she was the grinch of out block. Out of everyone in the neighborhood, shewas the only one that must be called by her last name. She was also the only colored person, very

distinctive from in the crowed. Ms. Moore found a way to keep my cousins and I busy with veryunpleasant but mostly useless things to do. Our parents would polish our faces, dry clean out

clothes, turned us into someone elses kids in order to be able to reach Ms. Moore level. Likeus, the grow ups also had there own takes on Ms. Moore but they shared it amongs them only

when she was away from the scene. But when she came in trying to share on of her recepies or toshare on of her over analysed opinions the adults would illustrate a well performed act of

eppocrasy. Our future and education laid in her hand because she has a gone to college. It washer full responsibility to guide us with her paper diploma in her hands as if it was a sort of map

to treasure land of books. She had no straight connection to us and somehow felt she had agreater responsibility than the creature that created us. Our Aunt Gretchen, that can be another


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story in it self. She is the person you go to when no is not considered as an answer. Whichexplains why she go stuck dealing with Sugar, Junior, and I, while our mothers are having the

time of their lives.


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FCE #9

My Holiday

My fathers birthday is the excact same day as mine. Of course i was born 31 years after

he did. This might seen really nice, but its not. It was 1995 and I was turning fives old, we usedto live in this blue house in Mexico. I had this blue floor porch in front of the house, and a

nectarine tree right in front of my rooms window covering half of our house. My dad had planthis party for because it was my fifth birthday. I get up early in the morning, and it May and

Mexico the sun had already warm up the house. I go into our blue bathroom, and take a coldshower. I do not remember what was wrong with the heater but I did not care, I pored a hand full

of shampoo on my head an crubed like I had not taken a shower in years. My feet were coverswith foam and I would run into the water to get a rinse off and ran back out because the water

was to cold. I had chicken skin though out my entire bath. With the hand full of shampoo and therunning through the water took me a while to get rid of it. I got out and went straight into my

room to get into my pink puffy dress. All this time there was a smile showing my missing fronttooth. the waiting time between the party and when i was ready were eternal the clocks hand

moved slower and slower. I layed in bed and place my clock infront of me and fell asleep. threehours later my mom came and woke me up because my neighbor got there wanting to play with

me. I got up with this crease in my face the clock made and ran ourside. There were people there,I cought that right away, but they werent there because it was my birthday they were there

because it was my dads birthday. My gift table had nothing nothing at all, the cake still said myname no gifts, it was plain with a pink table clothe on top. My friend cam up to me and gave my

a big huge, well as big as her she was only five years too. She handed me a small box that hadmy named on it. Apearently she was the only Mexican in that place that felt that she had to take a

present to a party. I opened it and it was two red bowls. Due to the circumstance it was the bestgift I had ever gotten.


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FCE #10

Celebration

heres to the red roses resting in my desk every morningand to the late night whispers in my bothers bathroom so no one could hear laughing with the

self whose stuttered in every conversation with me and looked down

and heres to a fading smile when you weren't standing next to those green locker after psychclass and to,

the butterflies in my stomach walking though the volleyball courts, your fingers wrapping myhand around yours;

and to smile; and to smiles beautiful friendstopwatch (and a first kiss) and

let your voice reach my ears 1225.31 miles away,

down with the barriers with because with we are herewhich feel it feels, nor I dares to leave (but up

with days passing by; and up with your arms holding me tightand )

heres to the greens and browns leafs and branches falling down the cliff

of whose is lifting us closer to the sky(where with no fear for the first time i said I love you and I heard it back)

Falling in lovewas the red roses i would find in my desk every day for 50 days in a row, or was it the late night

wispers in my bother bathroom, so no one could hear me talking to you at 12 in the morning orthe coffee you took me when i was falling asleep in the college office dozing off to a college flag

in the wall or that you didn't give up to make me smile because you would stutter when you trytalking to me and you will keep the conversation short or the butterflies that everyone talked

about and u gave when as you held my hand when we were walking to the pe locker rooms or thefelling of something missing when were standing next to my green locker after psychology class

was it hearing you voice every morning even though i was 1215.31 of miles away touching yourlips with mine once again as you fingers rappe my hand around yours or counting the days until i

can hold you tight and say your mine having you hand around my waste as i face the greens and

browns faling down the cliff standing at the top of the world and for the first time with no fearsaying i love you

42

heres to opening and upward, to leaf and to sap

and to your (in my arms flowering so new)


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self whose eyes smell of the sound of rain

and heres to silently certainly mountains; and toa disappearing poet of always, snow

and to morning; and to mornings beautiful friend

twilight (and a first dream called ocean) and

let must or if be damned with whomevers afraid

down with ought with because with every brainwhich thinks it thinks, nor dares to feel (but up

with joy; and up with laughing and drunkenness)

heres to one undiscoverable guessof whose mad skill each world of blood is made

(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon

ee cummings


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Formal Craft

Exercise

Part II


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Reading

Vandalism

Part II


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RV #7

Traveling Through the Dark & The Lull

The possum lay on the tracks dead

I was completely disgusted even though Im a curious person who stops to lookIt was big and white with, a thick naked tail

Nails on its raccoon-like feet all clawed and gross.It was a fullgrown possum.

Only its head was smashed with blood and brains all over the place.In the lull that it took to take a brief look to insult the dead corpse,

The whole world, traipsing in dress shoes, walking down the railroad tracksThats disgusting, you said.

But I was thinking we are dreams, brains, fur and guts:The Pax Peacock is how I make peace with the whole world

Lifes cache, its treasure, its only valuable thing, is flesh.

Molly Peacock

Traveling Through the Dark

Traveling through the dark, I found

A deer on the edge of the Wilson River road,It is usually best to roll them into the canyon,

That road is narrow so to swerve might make more dead,

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car and stood by the heap

A doe, a recent killing, and she had stiffened already, almost cold,I dragged her off, and she was large in the belly

My fingers touching her side brought me the reasonHer side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting

alivestill

never to be born,

Beside the mountain road I hesitated,with the car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights,

under the hood purred the steady engine,

While I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;Around our group I could hear the wilderness listen, and

I thought hard for us all my only swerving then pushed her over the edge into the river.


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RV #8

The Girl

1. Launder clothes of similar color.2. Dry the clothes.

3. Clean remaining clothes.4. Wear a hat.

5. Cook.6. Buy good cloth.

7. be prepared ahead of time8. is it true that you sing benna* in Sunday school?;

9. Eat properly10. Walk Straight

11. Dont sing at church12. Dont speak to strangers

13. Take care of your stomach14. Clean after yourself

15. Become a women16. Be polite

17. Be hypocrite if you have to18. Behave lady like

19. Be clean20. Dont judge people

21. Learn to cook22. dont pick peoples flowers you might catch something

23. learn to make decisions24. dont give up

25. Be wise26. Learn to support yourself

27. Take precations

Tell a story

1. The author call this a love story because he is talking about the relationhship between topeople. A relationship that because of their situation became very important to each comrade.

They went through good and bad moments. And the by the description of the story, the death ofCurt Lemon affected his friends and crew members. Like his states, the story was about love and

memory. The memories that way stay with then because of how they felt during that situation.

2. A true story is all about the emotions and meaning the event had on the person telling thestory. It about the feelings and images the story can transmit to the reader. [A true war story isnever about war, its about love, memory and sorrow]


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RV #9

Revising 56 Project

Im sitting at my friends house, and Im just relaxingwhen I this rap song starts in the

background. It starts off with his words, then the chords begin to play in straight quarter notes,

marking every beat of the piece, accenting the first note of every other measure, it pumps me up,like Im a thug who just stepped into a bar, about to start a fight. Next you a drum set. The beatbeing played on it is like a cadence that would be played in a classic march on a snare drum,

complete with triplets and sixteenth notes. The music just layers on top of itself and then itchanges from this smooth and lyrical chorus to a rougher and more syncopated beat and the

rapping comes in, sounding angry, pounding. I tune out. But suddenly, abruptly, just as thismusic changed from being smooth, relaxed, and lyrical to rough, syncopated, rushing and

intense, so did my mood when I realized why this song was so familiar for it was the song thatwould play as a ring tone every time I called him. Every time I called John. Yes, John, my ex.

We only went out for a month but it was quite a month. At first we would hang out at hisapartment almost daily, sitting abreast on his comfortable loveseat watchng Oprah on television

because thats what he liked to watch. I would lean on his shoulder and caress his arms, rubbingup them and down them, carefully feeling each and every hair. I would rub his cute little belly

and smell his shirt that smelled like his unnamed vanilla scented detergent and gave me goosebumps. I would gaze into his deep brown eyes that spoke volumes of love to me and I would

caress his cheeks and I would inevatably lean in and kiss him. I would kiss him full, succulentlips that tasted like sweet, minty toothpaste and nibble on them; they were juicy and plump. As I

did it, Id fondle his hair in my fingers and the palm of my hand and play with his ears. Wewould fall asleep there, he in my arms with his head against my chest and he would caress me

and kiss me in my sleep and I would smell her vanilla scent and everything was perfect. But thenthings started getting rocky. He would ignore my text messages and all other attempts at

communication and, as a result, wed converse only once a day. But then when we were at workhe would hug me and blow me kisses and we would take our breaks together and chat. But then

the next day he would fall off the face of the earth again, to be neither seen nor heard by me. Illadmit that I was torn the day that we broke up because he did it without a word of explanation,

without even a whisper. Because I thought we would last months together. Because we got alongso well. Because I gave myself to him completely. Because I fucked him and it was like making

love and I was emotionally attached. Because I didnt want it to end. I was a crazy chaotic clutterof clustered up emotions and cognitively dissonant cognitions. But I would lift myself back up

and fight on no matter what it took, I would stay strong and nothing would stop me.

1. With the change of gender, I feel that it really does not matter that wether the peice was to beby John or Jasmine because there is only a few this that impplys how each of them are. For

example her liking Oprah and his saying that he fucked her. Other than that the rest seem like itcould be either or.

2. I would give this 56 project a C3. Make the reader feel it on their own dont tell them what to feel. Show why this month long

relationship was so emotional and important for you. Why did you get so attached withe her.You say it was confusion, show confusion, show the pasion and all those abstract words you use.

Dont use word like listen hear smell felt ect..


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Type Powerwrite #2

Broken Heart

His is such a big head that thinks he is the best guy in the world. He has such a big nose his

whole face can be consider mr potatoes head nose piece. He thinks every girl will be glad to to

sweep the floor. with stupid greasing hair with sour taste of trash he needs to let his ball drop heneeds to get a life because it doesn't make you a deep person to stay in you guitar 24/7 ignoringvery thin around him he thinks that he can get another girl just like that and drop me in the

middle of the dirt well i sure she is just like him working for nothing dropped out off school towork a 10 dollar job from 5 to 12 at night and then what get seniority there and sit under that

black umbrella that does not cover any sun during the summer and not have to run a block awayto bring back a car that only in his dream he will ever have. a bmw or a lexus but his life

accomplishment was breathing the same air kim kadashien did when he zummed her car of tovalet parking. he need to get a new sense of style what are you thirteen a gym membership wont

hurt either since all the grease from the midnight innout snakes are sating in you sides andunderneath that chin producing a twin just below it. the tear that once fell of my cheek will be

janked off from rat like eyes. One day karma will stab you in your heart. One day.


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Powerwrite #3

My Vietnam

My dad has schizophrenia and I understand that it is a mental illness to which he has to drink

pills the size of my shirts buttons buttons like the size of my jean buttons and if he doesnt drinkthem he has a phase a phase when I am not his daughter when my mom is a bitch and he will go

out in a suit and marry someone else or when he will drive our 94 Quest van off our one car

driveway burning tiers and screaming to out neighbors for complaining his music was to loud.

Why do I have to pay for it? Why did I have to back my stuff in boxes, help my mom put them in

a moving truck and drive off, looking back at an empty living room remembering all the

childhood mischievous to move into a place where I had my eyes open because I was nervous for

my first day of class as the new girl in the middle of the school year. Why did I have to pretend

that I didnt have a dad for about three months every year because my head would kneel down if

they asked me where my dad worked at? Why did I have to spend Christmas with no Santa Claus

because my mom had to pay the rent after New Years Eve? Why couldnt he tough me in to bed,read me a story, telling me I was his baby girl? Why did he have to be out side burning nicotine

into his lungs risking not taking me by my arm through the church aisle the day of my wedding?

Why cant he quit cigaretts since he cant quit schizophrenia? Why do I have to have a higher risk

of getting the same illness, having a life without full of imaginary voice, wit h button like pills,

shaky hands, being called crazy? Why did he want to dies once he hit 50 years old when he has a

phase right before our birthday? I still needed a dad, a body to say I love you and Happy Fathers

day. Why did he gets his hand cufted five times last time? Thats why I sometimes talk back

even though all you want to tell me is to rest my eyes. That why I treat you like a five year old

when you have to take you buttons. Because in a phase or no you have a space in my heart,

because without those cigarette kisses I wouldnt be me.


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sindy chapbook

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