Since it’s the holidays and all, and because rape and heroin depress the hell out of me not to mention what they do to you, I went straight to “Xmas.” I’ve pasted the happy story here as the next paragraph. (And my impossibly verbose paragraphs here always have fifty words.)
Christmas is always a time of horror and misery for her. No family, a past that makes her wince and hang her head with shame, a future that fills her with fear and hopelessness. Walking past the Macy’s displays, she realizes she’d rather be a mannequin in the store window.Maybe there’s a reason for all those words. Maybe I feel shamed into doing it or something, but I’m more or less parroting the Lingamish’s story-structure. You’ll "get" mine next, sort of. Why do I feel like I’m answering
trong ngày có trận đánh mà mẹ
bị nghiền nát với các con cái
Childhood in wartime
ia memboroskan uangnya
dengan hidup berfoya-foya
Adolescence in godlessnonsense
Grown(ing) missionary kid
meets match in
grown(ing) preacher’s kid:
Life in love!
Peaceful rewards in recovery,
fuller in family,
in friends:
οὐδείς σε κατέκρινεν?
4 comments:
The parts I could read were beautiful and dramatic.
Your impossibly terse friend,
Lingamish
You know we third-culture-kids hate to tell our (complicated, complex, nobody-understands) life stories. To explain a bit: grew up in Vietnam and then Indonesia after the war (missionary parents). Met my soulmate (the beautiful intelligent "preacher's kid") in college in the US. We have three beautiful intelligent kids who teach me to be less verbose every day :) Now that's drama. But I love the part in your story where you bump heads.
C'est fait monsieur - pas terrible mais voilä
http://stranzblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/another-tag-another-meme-write-your.html
fantastique Jane!
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