So, what is there to talk about when a lass in her very early twenties is eating lo mein at eleven in the morning? Too early for philosophy and too late for pleasantries, so what can she discuss?
Currently, I’m sitting in a stir-fry restaurant and listening to Benny and the Jets (It’s been a long time, Elton.) and trying to think of something to write about. It has occurred to me, however, that by the way of fate, I was provided with a topic. Or, a list of topics, rather.
Every Thursday morning, I teach creative writing at a middle school in town. This morning, since it’s the first workshop of the semester and we were just coming up with a turn-out rotation, the Language Arts teacher who runs the class gave me a list of writing prompts to stimulate the students if we had extra time.
The list is a compilation of curious sentences that have no ending, and I was supposed to encourage an elaborate answer from each student. Of course, I have a particularly rowdy group, and all of their answers involved killing people and trafficking drugs.
So, I think I’ll spend the next thirty days finishing the sentences. Prepare for terror.
daNk. 