BTT: Writing Challenge

Q:

• Pick up the nearest book. (I’m sure you must have one nearby.)
• Turn to page 123.
• What is the first sentence on the page?
• The last sentence on the page?
• Now . . . connect them together….
  (And no, you may not transcribe the entire page of the book–that’s cheating!)

A: The Wind-up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami
first: I went to the kitchen and washed my glass.
last: "He's got nothing to do with me. He can become a diet member or an astronaut, for all I care."

So for all of you BTT readers out there....I am going to connect the sentences together by writing my own story, yes , this is not part of the book (only the bold is on the actual p 123 of the book) Check it out!



I went to the Kitchen and washed my glass. While doing this chore I could hear her in the background. I am amazed by her unceasing. I raised my eyebrows to myself, and smiled a sad, sad smile. It isn't that she only did it at times, it was a continuous flow of jabber that I soon would not be able to bear even with my newly installed flesh-tone earplugs. Life has changed, it was not this way when we were married, we used to lust after one another with our eyes fixed, we used to take turns, we used to care. I remember thinking, "how did I know to choose so well? How did she?" Now she is unceasing and I am constantly waiting, just only for one thing: that she would cease. That she would give up and let me say only one word. I know, that may not last me forever, but it would buy me some good time.

I don't think she even believes that I am still here, I am uncertain as to where I would go, but I am sure she has come up with many exciting ideas, ideas much better than our current reality. Maybe she doesn't even think of me anymore. Life should be better. I will just say what I want to, so that she cannot forget that I am here, I will be here, I have chosen to belong to her and her to me until death do us part, right? Well the death has not yet taken place, so I must exist here with her. This is what I am thinking when I burst into my wives unceasing conversation with herself only to say: "He's got nothing to do with me. He can become a diet member or an astronaut, for all I care." And then I wonder why that is what I waited so long to say.