Lesson 11 is all about size and how it’s used — sentence length not penis.
Short, medium, long — I am to play with my sentence lengths while composing my response to this question:
Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. Which town, city, or country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?
I’m sorry, but who cares about some terrace house in Neath? Do you? I don’t. Couldn’t give a crap. Congratulations, my mother and Jeff also lived there with dogs, cats, and a rabbit. It had a kitchen, a bathroom, and windows. It was full of photo’s and knickknacks just like every other home.
Who cares! Boring. So I’m going to write about something else.
The power of length
I was deleting voice memos of me singing last night — their loss is a scandal, trust me — and I stumbled upon my recordings of my grievance statement.
I’d forgotten how hearing me read it was their punishment.
For 34:26 minutes.
I start off with a bit of flare but quickly get bogged down in the tone.
Thanks to long and of consistent length sentences.
Just how I wanted it.
I wanted to cause them discomfort in lieu of my pain.
I wanted the Co-op to sit there and listen, and feel every single minute.
It may have done me in bad stead going on and on and on for 5,512 words. 11 pages of monotone. But I was never going to win, the Co-op only ever takes the easy route.
They questioned my grief so they got its voice.
It made me feel better.
On and on and on.