Norfolk Terr___, Day 66. Dialogue Day
‘So, today’s entry is all in dialogue.’
‘Why?’
‘It was the theme of creative writing class.’
‘Oh wow…how creative. All right, so what happened?’
‘I went for a run this morning, kinda short, too short actually. But I was pressed for time.’
‘And then…’
‘Office hours for both of my seminar tutors. It’s odd—you know that they don’t distinguish between analytical and research papers?’
‘What do you mean exactly?’
‘As in, one doesn’t just write on the text without secondary sources. They are needed to inform one’s reading of the text, placing him/herself in the context of other scholarly works…are you sleeping?’
‘No, I’m definitely not. My eyes are WIDE open.’
‘You just rolled your eyes. Wow, you don’t find the difference between British and American English papers interesting? Okay well, other than that, the day’s 19th Century lecture was Robbie’s last for the course.’
‘Aw, disappointing. He’s such a jokester.’
‘I know. He was in good form today, too. The joke was kinda crude, though. Maybe I shouldn’t…’
‘Tell me.’
‘It went something like this: “Ah, you know, you gotta think of those boys on broomsticks in Harry Potter. You can take it the Freudian way…[joke’s explained, then:] Oh, I’m just jealous. His broom is bigger than mine.”’
‘Did people laugh?’
‘OH yeah. Then there was creative writing class…’
‘Were you late?’
‘Uhh well…’
‘You were late for Robbie’s lecture too, weren’t you?’
‘Um, now, just because Stef made the phrase “pulling a Spencer” a synonym for “being late” doesn’t mean…’
‘You were late.’
‘Only a little, barely a minute for lecture. And, just a bit more than a few minutes for creative writing…’
‘Probably about ten minutes, fifteen?’
‘Lecturers here start on the hour almost always! No time between classes!!
‘Ha, chill. All right, so, what was today’s class like?’
‘It was in the Chamber of Whiteboards again! It was destined to be good. This time we all got to use the whiteboards, going around in a circle (of whiteboards!) and adding one line each to stories told in dialogue only. Each story was of a different genre: Western, Sci-fi, Chick Lit (clever, huh?), Thriller, Horror, Bad Horror, etc.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I started off the second line on Bad Horror with “And there’s a really creepy shadow in front of us”. I couldn’t take the exercise too seriously.’
‘Ha, ha, understandable. What came after that?’
‘Oh just some on-laptop dialogues. Almost everyone picked the same news story to convert into a dialogue. It was a story about two people [true story] being trapped in a safe in Norfolk County. The fire department arrived and opened the door, finding out that it was never locked.’
‘Good story, bro. Tell it again…’
‘You mocker! Well just for that, there’s no more to say.’
‘Whaat? What else happened in the day?’
‘This.’
‘And?’
“Finnne. Some skype. How I Met Your Mother. Microwaved Dinner--’
‘For shame! I guess no glorious picture of a salmon plate tonight, eh?’
‘You suck. Neh! Yeah, no salmon. In my defence, I had leftovers. Tacos. But then canned soup. Busy, all right?’
‘Likely story. All right, well that’s all I have time for. Good day, bro.’
‘Top o’ the evening! Cheerio!’
‘Mate, stop trying to be British.’
‘You know it’s fun. Good night.’
‘Yes, yes, it is. Night. [I pause a moment.] Wait, did you change your surname on facebook?’
‘Yeah. Gonna stick to my original gaelic surname my ancestors probably had.’
‘Not forever, I hope.’
‘No, just until I return from Dublin on Tuesday. 4-day trip.’
‘Wait, St. Paddy’s Day is…’
‘Yep, this Saturday.’
‘Lucky. But it’s gonna be wild.’
‘Oh, I’ll be ready for it. Okay, night for realzzz.’
‘Night.’
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