In my past Context of Writing class, I was assigned to write two pieces. The first piece needs to portray “hysterical realism.” “Hysterical realism” is a term coined by literary critic, James Wood; it is defined as: a novel that drums up energy at all costs. As for the second piece, I was instructed to write what I wrote before but not as energetic, but still “dream-like.”
The two pieces below are written in the perspective of a single 24 year old male.
I sat alone at the diner Friday night. Not really alone though, my waitress was there. She was leaning against the kitchen’s doorframe, obnoxiously chewing her gum. I could hear the gum smack against her teeth. She would then suddenly clear her throat; not because she wanted to speak, but probably because she needed some extra saliva to keep the dried clump of Trident chewable and feared that this was her last piece. She was wearing red lipstick; the type of red lipstick that a girl wears at a recital, or one a woman wears when she’s out with a married man. My sister wears a lot of red lipstick. I can’t believe I just compared her to my sister. I would never sleep with my sister yet, this waitress was giving me bedroom eyes. I wish I had some gum. I bet if I flashed her a pack of Trident, she’d straddle me like no tomorrow.
I sat alone at the diner Friday night. My waitress, who was chewing gum and wearing red lipstick, leaned against the kitchen’s doorframe. Her lipstick reminded me of my sister. It’s weird comparing a girl you wouldn’t mind hooking up with to your sister. Didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t stop imagining her straddling me cause I’m just that great of a customer.