Author's Notes: I'm personally of the mindset that you need to touch on new things in order to keep something from becoming trite. I don't know how "Newsies"-related this is, but I tried. I had a lot of fun putting my creative spirit into an experimentation of writing style. All misspellings, punctuation errors, capitalization errors, etc, are intentional. I guess this is a bit of a satire mixed with a stream of consciousness. You can thank my English teacher for a lot of this. If you're reading this, please review and let me know what you think.
Expression of Statement
(or, The One Thing Not to Do During an English Test)
What is the significance of World War I on American literature?
Refer to specific authors and their works.
if there is one [TRUE] thing that you should know about him
it's that he's not as latent as he makes himself look in the way of the hemingway hero he drinks so he doesn't have to think look mommy i made a rhyme and he uses women to make his ego bigger because they are stupid and submissive andand i can say all of these things because even though they don't know who ernest hemingway and agnes the polish nurse and f-for-francis scott and-don't-forget-the-key fitzgerald (who told old ernie H that he used the word "cooked' too much but still had some nice writin' in him) I know who they are and that makes me special because i am looking back on history as opposed to them who are living it and heading towards it and they are Blind Because
He stayed Behind on the Brooklyn Bridge and Beamed Broadly and
looking back on history I understand the things he cannot
Before he Blew up his Better Brevity he Blinked and
like how they believed that things were no longer all good and not all detectives were like no-shit-sherlock holmes [hey BY THE WAY where's watson, ol' chap{ and then they all began to understand that sometimes you have to write about the things that are not-so-nice like death and absurdity of humanity and tradition but that part didn't come around until the movement nearly thir-ty years later and the only point i'm trying to make is that they don't know it
Balked Back to the harBor Blindly and
see what i mean they really don't know it
DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THERE ARE RULES TO COMMON ENGLISH THAT YOU MUST FOLLOW IN THE WAY YOU CAPITALIZE AND PUNCTUATE
why yes i do, thank you for asking, but defining them is not the purpose of this examination the purpose of this demonstration is to show that there are excuses other than being too lazy to use a grammar checker and people don't understand that later on in life "i Write because I like it" is not an excuse for lack of accuracy did you know that willa cather says that i should know most of the basics about writing by the time i turned fifteen well that's long past and you probably don't know it all either even if you're thir-ty-two and i don't think that they know it all and it's over and done for them to by now but they never wanted to be writers anyway they just proclaim what's been written while trying to get by
)the alliteration of "B" is nice and all, but that's not what i'm trying to get you to notice)
The point of the matter is, that Spot Conlon fell in love with me because I am bright, and spirited, and could Beat Him Up, and am I using too many commas? Oh well, that doesn't matter
but it does matter because for the last time this is neither diatribe nor (not or) glorification
Being himself he Brought Bupkes Back for something that wasn't the Beginning but the Halt and he knew it
((they know that killing characters is not nice but they do it anyway so i just shrug and smile and go alone with 'em because why should i not?))))))
but as usual, i digress and by the way Willa preferred life before world war one and not after so you can just disregard what she's got to do with this paper
if there is one True Thing-with-two-capital-t-s that you must know about him,
it is that he will never be the same from one person to the next
As I was saying
He stood on Brooklyn Bridge, away from all the others, smiling largely though he did not know why. He knew that he could not be timid, that it would never be the same, and that was why it had to happen. But at the last moment, he recoiled, stepping away from the edge, and headed back home, if he could really call it that, where the height was not so much.
he was my hemingway hero, once upon a time without him ever knowing who hemingway was and is, until he found that one girl would not play along with his game so he gave up on the edge of the thick splintery wood
((this is the part where it all comes together, so read carefully or else you will be left out in the cold like a baby in a snowbank)
and the water is so cold and it's rising Higher and Higher and he thought that maybe he could touch the sky because the sky and the river have the same color blue but instead he's sinking instead of floating upward and it's cold inside his lungs and everything is heavy and under the dock it's dark and
Pencils down.
You will be graded on accuracy of information and that alone.
and nothing, why do you ask?