The Lake

[Tyler Durden]

I spent one of the most memorable weks of my life with friends in a house in the poconos. The house was located right smack in the midddle of the woods. There was a hammack on the back and At about 3 in the morning I snuck away from my friends to just lie down there and have a trancendentalist expirance. Anyway, your story seemed to read right from that expiriance. Its great. Very inducing of summer nostalgia.

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In the near future, you can imagine every big evening will begin hours earlier with you getting sucked on by different appliances, each of them making some part of you bigger for a few hours. The whole evening will then be a race to get naked and accomplish some lovin? before your parts snap back to their original sizes. -Oragami Lips

[Branflakes]

An old essay. But, I like it. It inspired a poem.
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THE EVENING SHOW
by: Branflakes

Located just outside of New Orleans, Louisiana is Lake
Ponchatrain, the largest brackish water lake in the state. I spent many summer days at my uncle's camp on this lake. While those days were enjoyable, nothing compared to the experiences I felt in the evenings. When everyone else would go inside to watch t.v., I would walk down the pier to the gazebo. Inside was the hammock that enveloped me in comfort and provided me the best seat in which to view the surrounding wonders.

A continous warm breeze would set the hammock in a gentle rocking motion. At the same time that a mild salty smell filled my nostrils, a mosquito would tickle my skin before I brushed it off. As the sun set, the lights of the surrounding camps would blink on one by one, like fireflys doing a ritual dance. The water, which during the day was an ugly pea soup green, would become a deep romantic blue. Overhead, the newly risen moon would play peek-a-boo with the rolling clouds. As this visual show continued, my
ears would become entranced by the song of the lake.

First, the lapping of the waves against the shore seemed to keep the rythmn of the rocking hammock. Then, the whispering sound of traffic on the distant highway would turn into an enchanting melody. Even the buzzing of a passing boat would enliven the symphony of sounds for a moment.

Unfortunately, nature's show would be interrupted by someone yelling at me to come inside because it was getting late. As I would walk back in, I'd revel in the knowledge that while everyone else would quickly forget what pointless show they had seen on television that night, my senses would hold onto the night as I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the lake's peaceful pleasures.


[This message has been edited by Branflakes (edited April 08, 2000).]

[This message has been edited by Branflakes (edited April 08, 2000).]

[Ersby]

This is gorgeous, Bran. But then, I'm a sucker for this type of quiet memory gently recollected. (What's a 'brackish water lake', tho'?)

[This message has been edited by Ersby (edited April 10, 2000).]

[Branflakes]

Thanks, guys. Brackish water is a combo of salt water and fresh water. I probably should've just called the lake salt water, but it's not one. I was trying to be factual. The essay was for an English class I took several years ago.

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Branflakes, the ninja lesbian milk getter.
The one Necro calls "brain".
Call me what you want, just don't call me Blue Falcon. Wait! Nevermind! Just call me!
Your smell floats in my memory, long after you've gone.
"See that star...the one shining brighter than all the others? I know the girl who hung it there."

[Kimo Temperance]

Branflakes,

You say that this inspired poetry-- but this piece has its own poetry. It's an effective evoking piece. It's a nice relaxing blend of nostalgia and setting mood. So much so, that when the narrator is snapped from peace-- so is the reader.

The main thing that I notice is that the majority of the description moves from visual to auditory. The specific mention of colors give the work almost a painter's quality. The reader watches you create beauty with the stroke of works.

And although smell and touch are mentioned-- I would have loved to see the totality of the senses engaged a little deeper. I don't meaning an overwhelming list of details-- because this piece does have a drifting breeze-like pace. It's a wonderful lull. But the best things always make you wish for more.

kimo

[Branflakes]

Wow, thank you for the wonderful words, Kimo. The essay had to have it's limits, since it was for class, otherwise I had wanted to explore all the senses. Thanks again. Great comments.

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Branflakes, the ninja lesbian milk getter.
The one Necro calls "brain".
Call me what you want, just don't call me Blue Falcon. Wait! Nevermind! Just call me!
Until the time you come back to me like fate.
"See that star...the one shining brighter than all the others? I know the girl who hung it there."