Writing. Creatively.

These are a bunch of "I remember" shorts based on the work of Joe Brainard.

I remember falling asleep on the floor of my grandparent’s house. They carried me up the stairs on top of a cushion.

I remember one summer where I watched the James Bond film The World Is Not Enough every day for at least a month. After a while, I was able to recite every line of dialogue from the movie. I haven’t seen the movie since.

I remember dropping my bookbag in a creek during a rainstorm. Everything inside was water-damaged, except for the Spider-Man comic book I had just gotten.

I remember going to my first Mets game. Every pop-up seemed like a home run.

I remember the first time I had sex. I wish I didn’t.

I remember working in the kid’s section of the library when a kid peed on the floor. Thankfully, I wasn’t the one who had to clean it.

I remember sitting in the back corner of the kid’s section of the library while on duty, reading books about Spider-Man and Batman. I was 19 at the time.

I remember being excited whenever Boy Meets World would come on TV. I always hoped that I would have friends like that.

I remember seeing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 in theaters on its opening night. I got 3-D glasses in the shape of Harry Potter glasses. I cried at the end.

I remember having a Batman raincoat that I would wear everywhere. Eventually, it ripped, but I was still Batman.

I remember buying a Playstation 2 with my own money without my parents’ knowledge. I haven’t played the damn thing in years.

I remember spending tons of money on baseball and Pokemon cards. I hope I can get some of that back when I sell them.

I remember my first few weeks at Rutgers. Everyone was only an acquaintance.

I remember wrestling a kid named John for fun until he knocked off my glasses. I went berserk and gave him a black eye. I’m pretty sure he moved away because of that. I’ve always wanted to apologize, but I don’t remember his last name.

I remember knocking out a kid in soccer when one of my shots hit him in the face. It was completely unintentional, I swear.

I remember scoring my first goal in soccer. I was pretty nonchalant about it, much to my own surprised. I ended up as one of the better players that year.

I remember riding the bench in junior varsity because my coach didn’t much care for me. I didn’t care, we sucked anyway.

I remember drawing comic books in middle school with my friends and selling them to our other friends. We turned a surprisingly good profit for one dollar per comic.

I remember wasting countless hours of my life playing online first-person shooter games. I was pretty good, too. A shame it basically meant nothing.

I remember waiting eagerly on my 11th birthday for my acceptance letter into Hogwarts. Needless to say, sadness doesn’t express how I felt when the letter didn’t come. I then thought that America must not believe in magic.

I remember eating a blue crayon in kindergarten. I lied to everyone when I said that it tasted like blueberries.

I remember the first time I kissed a girl. By the end of the night, I had trouble walking.

I remember my first Model UN conference. Quite possibly one of the greatest experiences of my life. It made me feel like an idiot, which was exactly what I needed because I believed myself to be the greatest thing since Genghis Khan himself.

I remember my first broken wrist. It didn’t hurt, but upon looking at the awkward Z-shape my hand had formed with my forearm, I started screaming.

I remember my second broken wrist. Like an idiot, I fell off a 7-foot fence onto some concrete, knocking myself out. I had a concussion, a broken wrist, torn skin on my face, and a bone bruise in my knee.

I remember getting my first job at the mall selling sports memorabilia. I was fired without being told. Imagine my delight when I found out that the store closed down a month or two later.

I remember the first time I got drunk. I ended up the next morning wandering around College Ave. without a shirt or shoes, desperately looking for a bathroom and a place to eat that wouldn’t kick me out for lack of clothes. Not my proudest moment.

I remember being caught by a cop while I hooked up with a girl in the back seat of my car. Deciding that it was a sign, I took her home and didn’t call her.

I remember playing Resistance: Fall of Man for 6 straight hours until 4 A.M. my freshman year of college. My friend and I beat the game.

I remember having a staring contest with a deer. I won.

Writing that is Creative

This is a shared dialogue between a partner and me. Since it's Spring Break, well, you know. Laziness.

Venus Rising

Teapot: It’s getting drafty down here. I should get some underwear.

Crust: Yeah son. Want to check out the garbage?

Teapot: No, I’d rather create my own heat.

Crust: Sure, do whatever you want.

Teapot: No, wait, I’m scared and lonely and cold!

Crust: Don’t worry man, I gotchu.

Teapot: Thanks. Mind if I put my hand somewhere private?

Crust: Private?

Teapot: You know.

Crust: What the hell, man? You homo or something?

Teapot: No man, I meant your purse!

Crust: Hell no, get your own!

Teapot: Come on man, let me touch it!

Crust: If you touch it, I’ll punch you in the face.

Teapot: Whoa whoa whoa, no need for violence. I just really like your purse.

Crust: Just go find one yourself.

Teapot: But yours is shiny and smells of pudding!

Crust: Do you really want it? I’ll trade you my purse for your clothes.

Teapot: Hmm… I have to think about this. My clothes are warm, but your purse is shiny. I like-a da shiny.

Crust: But this purse smells like pudding.

Teapot: I do like pudding. What else can you offer me?

Crust: Yo man, I’ll take care of you at night.

Teapot: Big spoon or little spoon?

Crust: Yo man, that’s messed up.

Teapot: Then what do you mean by ‘take care of you?’

Crust: Let’s just trade.

Teapot: I want the big spoon, man. I want the big spoon.

Crust: Fine, here’s the biggest spoon I have.

Teapot: You know that’s not what I mean, god damn it. I’ve seen you watching me when I bathe myself down by the river. I think it’s time that we admitted that we’re both cold, lonely, and horny.

Crust: Fine, no spoon for you.


(Hint: They're homeless.)