Apr. 06, 2003 - 01:01:01
Dear Vincent,
Perhaps you know me, for I did finish "The Lovely Bones" a while ago. However, my silence is not to imply that you did not miss much. Actually, I rather liked a lot about the book. The perspective is so beautifully woven and the little tidbits of truth about life are naturally and seamlessly included. I think Alice Sebold has a shot at the Pulitzer. The reason I've been so quiet on the matter, is that I refuse to ruin the ending, or the middle, or any part of it for you. Take as much time as you need, I remember what I read so we can pick up discussing it whenever you finish.
The Color Concepts: (Forewarning, I'm brainstorming as I write this. It's probably not going to be cohesively presented...)
Preliminarily, my thoughts for the story centered around imagining what would happen within my own town. I'm thinking that it might be fun to do something to the effect of a series of small stories within a story. So we pick a handful of characters and look in at them in different parts of the town at different times of the day. I think we'd need to focus on following one of the stories in a restaurant. Have a couple sit down to dinner or something of the like. Could turn confrontational- especially since when people sit down to eat together it's sort of hard to escape scrutiny from the person they're eating with.
A mom buying things at the grocery store with a bunch of small kids could be colorful. So we go from the very personal to the more casual exchange. Two colleagues exchanging waves across the street. (I'm already writing in my head, it's a curse. (Perhaps it was just a trick of the light but when she emerged from the store and spotted him she looked awfully purple. He didn't have time to examine her because Carl called his name. When he turned back to seek her out he found she'd swung into another shop already. A trick of the light he decided, the mid-day sun could be abusive.)) People at a business meeting. Wouldn't that be interesting? We could have someone suck up to the boss so Vincent, what's the color for insincerity? (Gives new meaning to the phrase 'showing your true colors' doesn't it?) A woman in the dressing room puts on a dress that really looks like it's made for her- she turns the color to indicate she feels pretty...
In summation, I propose the story follow the space of a day in a small town, but not too small. We could tie every story together in small ways. Like we could cover a girl and her boyfriend out to dinner- this is how the change from one story to the next would work.. So they fight and she goes to the bathroom where her girlfriend comforts her. She says she's calling her Mom to come get her. Her friend asks where her Mom is and the girl says, "she's shopping tonight"... The next paragraph begins with "Mrs. (insert girl's last name) twirled slowly in front of the mirror... We connect it all. And we cover as many facets of life as we can without it getting tiresome or becoming anything but a short story. Anywhere people interact- from business meetings, to casual waves, to supermarkets, to within the privacy of their own homes, to the high school play. Anything, everything. I think it would be sort of interesting for one of us to write one of the small stories, to send it and let the other one figure out and write the tie on. But if you hate the entire idea than let me know and I'll work on something else.
I'm also thinking summertime for the story's season just because people wear less clothing and we could look at the people at the pool. People are never more uncomfortable than when they walk around in bathing suits...
I noticed that on Diaryland you'd numbered some of our letters. Made me remember how unconventional all of this is. I've never spent breath on telling you anything. Never told you anything with a sarcastic look or drawn your attention to anything by sliding my eyes in a certain direction. I've never punctuated anything with a well timed gesture or tugged on your wrist to make you walk at my pace. And, here's a kicker, I've never casually conversed with you. And everyone you talk to, without fail you will have casual conversation with at some point. (i.e. The stock market's down a few points...)
Tell someone we've been talking three months and they'd dismiss it. After all, three months isn't anything in the scheme of things. Which just goes to show you time is a lousy method of measurement. What if people began to measure their relationships in words? "Ben and I hit the million word mark yesterday..." Could still be meaningless- maybe they talked about nothing for those million words. It all suggests that numbers are nothing, and time is not testimony to strength or significance. What if we started to measure everything by meaning? Loads of words carefully considered, heaps of thoughts and lots of letters. It's almost unreal to think of how many thoughts must be contained within 120 letters. Boosts your confidence in the imagination doesn't it?
There are these really beautiful trees my state seems to have an affinity for. I don't know what kind they are Vincent, but I love them. Just around this time of year they burst into sugar white flowered flames before they get their leaves. In a few weeks the petals loosen and every time the wind ruffles them they flurry to the ground. I don't have one in the yard but I have the unquenchable desire to climb one and sit inside it as the petals rain. I suspect that it would make someone uncomfortable though if I asked them if I could sit in their tree. There are also these bushes that explode into insolent yellow. I like those too. The trouble is they don't stay yellow long enough to suit me. And then there are the tulip trees with blossoms so big that I can't see my hands when I hold them in my hands. The kind of pink that I think must be the color writers mean when they say that a girl "blushes prettily." When I know I'm settling, one day many many years from now I am going to invest my yard in sugar and tulip trees, and insolent yellow bushes. I don't know why more people haven't. I want to be able to sit in a cluster of rampant colors during the springtime.
Granted my allergies are going to object but that's what Sudafed is for.
I was at an art show for Matt this evening. I ended up mingling with a friend of mine Edward who is just fantastic. He's got a friend John who joined us for a little and when we were talking he was discussing how he is studying political science. Edward started talking about how he's studying to be a mortician. "Messy." discerned John. "Absolutely." responded Edward. "What's your thing?" asked John. "English." I said. "Also messy." said he. After a moment I was inclined to agree.
Later we were discussing what we're looking for in a counterpart. "I'm looking for a gay guy who doesn't like pop music." Edward said. John snorted. I said, "Maybe you should brush up on your N'Sync lyrics Edward. "I'm looking for a gothic girl who's outgoing." confided John. I fell into peals of laughter. "Unlikely." said Edward morosely. "And I," I said, "Am looking for a poet who's not jaded or sappy." "Impossible." said John. "Good luck to you darling." said Edward.
Three of my closest girl friends are in the middle of ending fairly long time relationships right now. Now that's messy. I've never confronted so many tearful girls at once Vincent. However, I have definitely learned that when they ask, "So how are you?" after they've cried themselves dehydrated that I should not answer, "Actually I've never been better."
So how was the show?
Tinted,
Meghan
what they said - what they will say
