Thank you for the funkadelic musings… I have no idea what you are talking about, but am grateful for the splurge of creativity. I hope your analyst is well at the moment. He must be making mucho spondulicks.
Journal, Diary, & Blogging / Disembodied Swedes: A Memoir (Pt 1)
First, an explanation. Having attended college with a batch of mollycoddled halfwits, I found my attitudes to life at a crossroads with what might be considered ‘acceptable’ behaviour for a normal human being. I dilly-dallied in the realm of unemployment mediocrity for years, writing scabrous filth about my fellow members of society and behaving like an uppity savage. I seemed destined to remain atop the rotten ladders of self-aggrandisement, sneering at the world and boxing myself into a corner of hateful isolation. Sympathy was sparse.
So… I moved to Sweden.
There were other reasons of course. My family were seeking refuge from debts and legal wrangles. Moving abroad seemed the finest option open to them. Given my father’s time as a petty thief was drawing near, having been caught pinching apples from a market stall (a pitifully unprofessional error), it was time to flee the country for pastures new.
We moved to Borås. For those unfamiliar with this town, it can be summarised in two words: cloths and weirdoes. Located in southwest Sweden, its main source of income comes from textiles and the bulk of workers either toil or own shares in the various plants therein. Having a third class degree in journalism, I went to work in the factory straight away. At this point, I had no real interest in writing for newspapers or publications. I was still locked into documenting my experiences with pithy and verbose blogs (long before blogging was even invented).
At the factory I met a woman named Gerswina, a pale-faced cynic whose disappointments in life almost mirrored my own self-imposed sense of jaded loathing. She turned out to be intensely irritating but she also turned into my flatmate.
My life was split between two impossible tasks in the first month. The first was keeping my father out of trouble with the law and the second was persuading Gerswina to stop whoring herself to every man she came across. I became the voice of reason for the first time, and failed very badly in my task.
I had grown tired of my father and his pilfering antics. Being quite prepared to let him fight his own way through his kleptomaniac tendencies, I left him alone to steal apples, cars and jewellery. He was arrested within the month. I also allowed Gerswina to preen herself senseless, stumble to the nearest pub and slobber over an array of Swedish hunks.
I was too preoccupied with depicting the casual savageries of life to help them in their plight. From thence, Gerswina contracted syphilis and my father ended up serving a six month stretch in the local prison.
It was with these tempestuous beginnings I entered the first leg of my time in Sweden… a dull, obscure and frighteningly lonely place to be.
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Curtastrophe reviewed Version 1 -
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Sweden. The first four things that come to my mind are: meatballs, cheap fashionable furniture, that muppet, and of course those beautiful blondes who pillow fight through my imagination in their underewar. But enough of that flim flam.
I found the first paragraph very engaging. In that little movie screen of my mind, the reel starts and there’s the narrator’s voice over, “Having attended college…” I see a series of images… The sardonic and darling protagonist sits at a desk with a look of utter contempt etched across her face. She sneers at the overheard conversations, “…I was sooo drunk, but he looked good at the time.” and “..is really, really amazing. I mean, who doesn’t love yogurt?”
And then, “I dilly-dallied in the realm…” In a modest apartment she reads good books, pencils down thoughts in a journal (occasionally breaking the lead), and sometimes suffers from insomnia. While contemplating on a perch of existential ennui, an opportunity to move comes along—a change—and with palms up she says something to the effect of, “Sure, why the hell not?”
But there were other reasons as well…
At this point, my idyllic visions of Sweden as the land of milk and honey become somewhat cracked and strained. The not-so-subtle accounts of familial criminality and the roommate’s penchant for flat backing are pushed into the foreground. Outwardly, Gerswina and dear ol’ Dad are having very physical troubles which the narrator has seemingly relinquished responsibility for. Inwardly, the narrator seems to be wrestling with her own troubles. These are all speculations though.
I liked the quip about blogging though I think it will be lost on anyone who isn’t familiar with what has become somewhat of an Urbis.com staple—The Claire_D Blogs.
As for the style, tone, etc., it’s a bit difficult to pick up on given the short excerpt. It does seem quite in line though with the literate abrasiveness which has characterized previous musings. It’s a cocktail of equal parts dark humor and provocative vocabulary mixed with a triple shot of cynical wit. Add a twist of snark and serve neat.
I’d certainly read more of this.
-Curt
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chickiemcweird reviewed Version 1 -
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You muscle the reader’s train of thought onto your track of erratic logic. I respect this more than I can possibly convey through interpretive dance wearing a basket of fruit on my head.
Using your paragraphs as a guide, I have traversed the populous underground system of your wit, making the correct series of expected connections, when suddenly: BOOM! You’re beside me, like having sprung turbaned from arcane and and legend crockery, Harris tweeds smelling faintly of duck season. With much running-man and elbow-jostling, I am swept up onto a rotating metro platform, complete with funk, jive, and disco ball.
I love it. I think it’s great: equal parts inane to comprehensible. If you made it a cocktail you’d be a debauched millionaire in nanoseconds.
I often have to stop myself writing the next paragraph in my head while I’m reading the one before it. Most times I find what the writer has to offer in disappointing contrast to what my brain might make it. And that’s not just here on Urbis. I did not encounter that problem this time, and have appreciated not having two channels of thought broadcasting simultaneously. Being thus preoccupied accounts for many missed dentist’s appointments and burned dinners. I am pleased to say the spanakopita is toasted just nicely.
KindredSpirit reviewed Version 1 -
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Definitely sustained my interest. The tone is set nicely in P1. I’m lured into the story because I find those who isolate themselves against the world, intriguing. I’m curious to understand why. Therefore, to better identify with you, I’d like to know one or two events which first caused your ‘attitudes to life’ to hit a crossroads. Maybe the halfwits influenced you somehow.
Your voice is strong and well expressed – ‘sneering at… isolation.’ Clear, entertaining sense of sarcasm – got a degree in journalism so went to work in a factory.
I’m wondering how a person like Gerswina becomes one’s flatmate? Maybe just a hint.
Another area that can be made clearer is ‘depicting the casual savageries… .’ Could you give an example here so we can understand what a casual savagery means to you and how you went about depicting one?
I truly enjoyed the humorous overtone of your style and look forward to more.
jenbabe4198 reviewed Version 1 -
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Some proofreading things I came across were:
1. It should be ‘My family was seeking’ instead of ‘My family were seeking’.
2. You misspelled jewelry.
3. Everything after ‘My life was split’ should be in one paragraph.
Other than that this piece set the mood that you didn’t like where you were, whather it be in or out of Sweden. If you did enjoy your time in Sweden, then a lighter tone would be needed.
brokenhand reviewed Version 1 -
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Yes, this makes me want to read more (in response to your notes)
Critique:
You are misusing ellipticals. Dot Dot Dot’s are supposed to take place of an implied phrase. I think that you should remove them, and if you really want a long pause there or something use a dash.
The parenthtetical phrase on the first page is also holding your piece back. I feel like it is there just as a heads up to the reader that you are a cool, non-trendy guy. It’s like saying “hey I wrote blogs even before they were invented” It’s pompous and it makes your piece lack a touch of credibility.
I would say that a lot of your langauge does this for you. The fact that you “let” Gerswina have random sex is one example. If you would like more examples I will address them in a comment.
However, I must say that the inflated attitude of the narrator (you) does give the piece it’s own ground to stand on, and since you are writing your life, you might as well write it in whatever way you are comfortable with.
Good Luck
