Realistic Dialogue: Man and Woman

This scene comes from my observations while riding the Tiger Transit on the way home at around 4:30 PM.  A man and a woman (both students) are having a conversation when I hit record on my trusty Blackberry.  I started recording in the middle of a very rigorous dialogue.  The following is my account:


Then they were like, running out of the doorway.  ‘Cause we were there, and then that Catherine girl went running out there…

           

Oh god, Catherine…

Like, they were like, gonna laugh at him.  And I kept running up to the door and they were still standing in there.  And then, I like turned around and went back in and was like, “Oh my god, you are not peeing. You are drunk.” So, what do ya’ll feel?

           

Oh, that’s childish.

I was like, “Just get over it.”

           

They need to get over it.  Somebody needs to get over it.

And like, Whitney gets mad cause I like, like my Aunt’s Facebook status.  And she’s like, “Why do you like her Facebook status?”  And I was like, “Because it was funny. I don’t laugh at people if that’s the issue.”

           

Yeah, I mean, it’s like, I don’t have a thing against Whitney, but man, I was like best friends with James, so like…

Yeah.

           

That whole situation…

But now you don’t talk to her ‘cause, who knows, every time you see her…

No, it’s not like I would not acknowledge Whitney.  It’s just like, whatever.  It’s not like a serious thing.  It’s just…  It’s stupid to act like that.  You need get over it if anything.  It’s retarded, you know? 


*Lengthy Pause*


I was wondering, I’ve never seen ya’ll.  I guess we don’t do…  We haven’t had as many house parties or anything like we used to.  Nobody’s classes are really too hard so we don’t really do much.

Yeah.

What are you in?

Ummm, I’m retaking Chem. I ‘cause I didn’t like my grade I got the first time.

            Yeah, that’s kind of rough.

Yeah, and then I’m in Organism Biology…

            Ooohh.

I gotta do Intern Animal Science…

            Are you doin’ vet school?

Yeah.

Response to "1-900" by Richard Bausch

            Richard Bausch’s short story is a familiar story of love and loss, portrayed in an almost episodic way, suggesting there is more than the tip of the iceberg.  The story consists of only two direct speaking characters and is completely told through dialogue.  This writing style of a story-told-through-dialogue is a great example of how to exactly that.  Bausch remains consistent throughout and allows his characters to have believable and interesting conversations to tell the story. 

            At first, I thought that the story would move on from the initial phone sex scene.  However, the author was able to resolve the plot and remain within the parameters of this one conversation.  As far as plot development, the main character, John, is a recently divorced man with two kids who are with their mother in New York.  What I enjoyed about this style of storytelling is the amount of guessing and preconceptions that the reader must adopt.  The audience simply has to take John’s word for it, which in retrospect seems a bit uncertain.  A lot of evidence throughout the story leads us to believe that John was indeed an unfitting husband.  There are several lines in the story about John’s alleged drug use.  John confesses Sharon, saying, “I have a habit of getting a little too much to drink now and then, and I used to do some other kinds of substances.”

            I think that Bausch is trying to indirectly involve the reader in the character’s lives who are off screen.  He subtly suggests that there are always two sides to a story.  One could assume that John’s family is somewhere else explaining their opposing side of the story.  There’s a lot left to the imagination in “1-900” which is what I enjoyed most about the story.  Bausch allows the reader plenty of information to make the story complete yet not enough to catalyze a deeper meaning in a closer reading.

Response to Denis Johnson's Emergency

            Denis Johnson’s short story “Emergency” is a frightful look into the fictional world of charlatan doctors who are in desperate need of malpractice insurance.  Oh, and did I mention that their drug addicts?  Well, sort of.  Georgie appears to be the veteran drug user between the two “protagonists.”   However, the narrator does seem to casually digest the various prescriptions in the workplace towards the beginning of the story.  The humor of the story, while not obvious, is somehow perversely fulfilled in the narrative.  (Especially now that I imagine Jack Black playing the role of Georgie.)  Georgie, in light of the medical emergency occurring around him, appears to be clueless.  And high.  The drugs do secure his insanity.

            The only section of the story that disturbed me was the scenes with the bunnies.  The visuals and word choices of the author were helping me see the baby bunnies way too clearly.  Not to say that I didn’t enjoy this story element, I simply believe that Johnson does an incredible job giving the reader a feeling of discomfort.  The humorous, yet tragic scene portrays the images of the fetus-like rodents, as the narrator admits to their deaths by his hand.  “They weren’t any bigger than my fingers, but everything was there,” the narrator explains. “Little feet! Eyelids! Even whiskers!”

            I really appreciated the way the story was written.  The structure and the word choice parallel the ramblings of a person under the influence.  The frequent hallucinations and general confusion of the order of events and subject matters in the story were brilliant.  For all we know the Hardee character who was introduced at the very end of the story was a hallucination.  A lot of pieces don’t seem to fall into place or are unexplained.  Perhaps this is the point.  The perspective of the storytelling is much too twisted and inaccurate to secure a strong and concise version.  For this, I gained a lot from the story.  It allowed me to use my imagination, and dive into the lunacy.  

Short-Short

Welcome Home

            The white lines in the pavement morph and fade as my tires squeeze in between to reach the other lane.  It’s my BMW 550i propelling me towards what I originally called home.  I haven’t been to L.A. since I left when I was eighteen.  Now at 46, I can say that it’s been a while since I’ve seen either of my parents.  My Armani jacket freshly tailored, shining with all the accessories inside and out.  My iPod, my wallet stacked with cash, and a brand new Rolex are just a few trinkets I took with me when I left my estate.  I went ahead and included extra cookies from the cupboard, and some of my favorite mix tapes.  It’s a long drive.

            I arranged my visit.  I spoke with my parents on the phone briefly about times to visit until we agreed on a date.  Call it an epiphany, but I want to see my parents.  I couldn’t wait tell them about my big life in the city, my big advertising career that seems to be going up, and that time I met Bob Dylan in New York.  My father’s a big Dylan fan.  Since I haven’t kept up with or even spoken to my parents in all these years, people expect me to be nervous.  That feeling doesn’t stick to me anymore.  Try holding a meeting with the CEO’s of seven out of ten of the wealthiest companies in the country just once and see how you feel.  Not only this, but try telling them that they are continually losing money from a waning U.S. economy.  I do this twice a week before lunch.  A job, I’m prepared for.

           

As my old neighborhood approaches, I can see our big red door on our big white house, adorning the end of the street.  Regaling images of me as a child began to take place in my mind.  All the cliché’s overtake me.  First, I recall Christmas gatherings, and Thanksgiving meals, and then summer baseball out in the yard.  I can even remember the time when my father caught me watching Midnight Special and began accusing me of idolizing these musicians which my father called “sex-crazed drug addicts.”  My BMW halts in the driveway as I approach the front door for the first time in 28 years.  I make sure that my smile is welcoming and reminiscent of my old eighteen-year old self.  Surely, they’ll recognize me, even with my extensive hair loss.

I knock on the door only to be greeted with silence.  I wait a bit and knock again.  No answer.  Finally, I let myself in and discover my mother and father on the couch in the living room staring at the television.

“Hey mom and dad, it’s me!” I said with a big smile on my face. “Good to see you both!”

            “Shhhhhh,” my father said. “We’re watching this. Wait for a commercial.”

Response to Lydia Davis's "Television"

            Lydia Davis’s short story entitled, “Television,” is an intriguing and insightful contemporary work.  The story follows a typical family and their particular relationships with various shows and networks on television.  Each character tends to have their own perception of the television.  For example, the mother has a crush on the anchorman, and the father can’t wait for the cameraman to reveal the young reporter’s dress.  The narrator uses the word “we” quite a bit.  This strategy both integrates the perspective of the family and reaches beyond to address a broader audience, such as middle-class America.  Many times, the narrator purposefully overstates the familial desire for steadfast and convenient lives that are portrayed on cable.  While investing in the programs, the narrator states that, “…we believe in this world.  We believe these people are speaking to us.”

            The structure of the story is done very well.  It is divided up into three sections with the last section being the “sum-up” and conclusion of the story.  The line breaks help the reader adjust and change perspectives as the writer wishes.  “We” changes to “I” as Davis shifts as the narrator loses focus and begins hearing geese outside in which she initially mistakes for another television.

            Davis makes a powerful point in “Television” and includes the very real attitude of American’s wishful thinking.  The desire to retreat into a fictional world is prevalent as Davis explains that they wish to “…skip over all the complications.”  Obviously, this is a feat in which no one can achieve.  “…We want major events,” claims Davis.  It would seem as if the world would be more interesting if it were a drama program.  However, one can miss the beauty of life everyday that surrounds.  Excitement and entertainment is there for people to find, but the willingness to search is weak and concludes to be subservient.