Thursday, January 19, 2012

Response to "Emergency"

“Emergency” is a short story about the misadventures of a hospital clerk, known as “Fuckhead”, and an orderly named Georgie. In this story, Georgie steals medications from the hospital supply closet. Georgie seems to be spaced out throughout the entire story. Fuckhead has a tendency to wander around when he feels there is nothing to do. Tonight while working the overnight shift in the emergency room, a man comes in with a knife in his eye. Put there by his wife after he gets caught watching his neighbor sunbathe. The on duty doctor is adamant about having the surgeon and anesthesiologist on duty for the surgery because it is over his head. While supposedly prepping the man for surgery, Georgie returns to the front desk with the knife that was once embedded in the man’s eye in his hand.
For most of this story, I felt as though I was on one of Georgie’s supply closet drug trips. There was a certain disjuncture that somewhat confused me. In some instances, I failed to see what one story had to do with the other. The part that brought it together for me was when Georgie made sure Hardee made it to Canada.  That was the connecting factor to me, but to a certain extent I wondered why the other section was important. I understood where Georgie trying to save the bunnies supports that he “saves lives” but, it seems like Johnson took the long way around making his point.
For the most part, I liked the characters. Johnson provides us with necessary characters (Terrence Weber, Nurse, the doctor) but does not waste time trying to make them all major characters. He just gives everyone distinguishing personalities and let the dialogue support the characters. I also like that he doesn’t spend a lot of time describing the setting since pretty much all people are familiar with the way a hospital looks. He instead describes the aspects that aren’t in every hospital (i.e: the scripture quoting intercom).

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Response to "Television" by Lydia Davis

Lydia Davis “Television” is a short-short about her family’s nightly television routine. From channel surfing to games shows and tv movies, Davis’s television ritual is about the same as everyone else in the world. I liked that it is not over done and writery. Davis simply writes about what she sees and likes on TV, which make the story more relatable to me. Particularly the section about made for tv movies. Davis sounds like an “LMN” and “ABC Family” watching woman to me. The fast paced story plot with impossible circumstances and Disney-esque happy endings. I also liked her saying she wanted her life to be more like a movie. Mainly because I think in some instances everyone does it. I think there are those occasions where we would hope to look back and see the camera staring at us whether it be because we are searching for out 15 minutes of fame or because we are hoping somewhere along the lines, someone is going to yell cut and separate us from whatever awkward or miserable situation we may be in.
            Davis “Television” is my first experience with short-short fiction so I really didn’t know what to expect. For me, it started off kind of slow. In the first section I really had no idea where she could possibly be going with it and didn’t think she was going to be able to establish any kind of point. For someone reason, the mentioning of her mother suddenly had me thinking she was telling the story at a young age until she mentioned her husband. I don’t know why I was slightly thrown off by that. The section about the game show and the boy’s parents seems irrelevant to me. I failed to see how this section helped the story any. Maybe she was trying to show how TV watchers as an audience pass judgment on people through their actions on TV. I did however, think the first and third sections were very well done and relatable. Perhaps Davis could have expounded on either of these two sections and created a bit more cohesion than was presented with the presence of the second section. 

Close F.R.I.E.N.D.S (Short-short exercise)

“I think I’m Phoebe”, Sydney said, interrupting the silence we had while watching Friends (a nightly ritual we’d started in college).
“How do you figure? If anything, you’re Rachel.” Dana said, “I’m Phoebe.”
“Is that your way of saying I’m the pretty one?”
I laughed. “Not a chance. She’s saying you’re Rachel because you’re spoiled and selfish.”
“I disagree”, she said from her seat on the couch. Dana and I were always forced to share the loveseat so she could stretch out. “At least Rachel is pretty. You’re Ross, Kira”
“Hardly,” Dana said in my defense. If anything she’s Monica. ‘A place for everything and everything in it’s place.” Okay, so maybe she wasn’t coming to my defense.”
“That is true. I say she’s like Ross because she’s always in love.”
“I do not.” Since Dana was being of no help I guess I would defend myself.”
“You do, Kira. You don’t just date, you’re over the moon by date 3. If you could afford it, you probably would have been married three times by now.”
“When have I ever claimed to have loved anyone enough to get married? I bet you can’t name three.”
“Ace Braxton.”
“Chris Jefferson”
“Daniel Henderson”
“Okay. You got me there. But technically, I only brought up marrying Ace because he brought it up.
“He asked if you liked Bridezilla. Where did you dig an open proposal out of that?” Sydney said.
I rolled my eyes and hit the outsides of my fists together. The traditional Friends method of flipping someone off. “As far as the two of you are concerned, Dana, you’re Joey and Syd, you’re Chandler.”
“And you arrived at that conclusion how?” Dana said.
“Dana, when was the last time you had a real job?” I asked. “You just borrow money from which ever of us can afford to give it to you. You just float through life waiting for some big opportunity, which you know is not coming, to knock on your door and hopefully you’re not taking one of your many daily naps and miss it. Sydney, you’re Chandler because while you’re are somewhat funny and quick witted, the reality of it is, no one really likes you.” Silence. I looked back and forth between the two of them though neither of them ever said anything or returned there glances back to the TV. Okay, so maybe I had gone to far, but they were talking about my bad qualities like it was okay, but when I do the same, suddenly everyone wants to become sensitive. So in the spirit of friendship I guess I could offer up some kind of apology.
“I’m Pheobe.” Or maybe not.