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can you help me draft this

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Author Topic: Technician  (Read 1022 times)

zachary.hamilton15

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Technician
« on: February 20, 2012, 10:58:30 PM »
   
   He told us we were about to be connected into the matrix. Call me, not the front desk, A technician is your mecca, your morpheus, like in the matrix, that movie.  We discuss fiber optics cables with him. He points out the direct line from our house (N.E portland) to the phone lines run half hazard all nested with birds above our street. Tucked behind our broken down car (last week a meth addict wanted parts out of) a hired tweaker showing us cable lines. His pupils are giant discs as I approach the front door to let him in, a generous, loving smile and a hand shake that at once removed and then at the stilted moment, concious of each other, I let him into our house, wide eyed and large pupils, loving and calling me baby, but it comes out babe.
   My friend ordered the internet earlier and sits on the couch, reading text messages from some where. I introduce them and watch them walk outside. My friend watches the part between the carpets and the tile. I feel strange knowing this technician is high, it is at once feeling like we are high too, a sort of gut wrencing feeling where the bottom drops out from underneath you, and the stereo is really, very loud. Your stomach crunches, desperate to release gas, the stomach muscles holding everything together suddenly relent and you fart.
Its comical after, but the frustration leading there reminds you of the intruder near the house, but you relax remembering he is high on extacy and you wait. The album plays, some dark industrail disc you found at the party on garfield st. the other evening.
My friend comes back in and we discuss him being high.
“Where is he?”
“He's outside.” I'm curious whether we can figure out if he's high, so I go outside and it's a dark drissling afternoon in portland, over on the north east side. I think I am at the beach and look around the yard. I don't see him, and my friend comes out behind me. We search the yard and see his companies van. He's around the side yard. When we see him come back he skips ahead of conversation, looking frightened a moment, he has put on more shoes, a cloth over coat the company releases, standard kind. He speaks normally but his eyes, they look worried.  Later on I am online looking at stories about technicians, and I find a video with a technician for comcast fallen asleep on the clients couch, laptop wide open on his lap, circuit board open next to him, then I watch a video of a comcast technician breaking into someones electrical box with a screwdriver, explaining how to jack electricity.
At this point I began to study less, his movements or his collection of electronics tools stuffed here and there around his belt line. The sky grows dark above us, and looking at the wires, above the neighborhood, I started to dread this day. Hooking us to the Matrix, come on I mean I like the reference, but not in connection to my home where in which I live. I don't want to feel more invaded upon   (within my surrounding walls) than I have already become used to being. I mean... I want to listen to music, watch videos, and write poems just as much as the next guy, but not be connected to that guy with the full scale package- tv, wireless, internet, telphone, cell phone.... the whole damn package. At least I am hopeing that is not where my years of anti tv, phone, and car has led me, back into the wireless belly of the beast?
   Hello, maybe I am high now too. I thought to myself, poring over the technicians words. Sure, he was nice and really, really awefully high on: methamphetime, speed mushrooms, ecstacy, laced we didn't know what. And then he is coming into my house with his razor blade intelligence, searching through our minds for a lock he can get unlocked. I felt revealed, my insanity had finally come into being with this moment, he had shown us the way out, by mentioning the world addiction, he was still offering us a way out, but my friend had already singed up for the internet, and we were getting it now, whether we liked it or not. It seemed to be a last chance, should we take it? Is there time? All of these things kept rummaging for answers through my brain. I guess the moment had come. Soon I had to leave the house, get to school and turn in my late paperwork. I left my friend with the high technician and walked a half hour over to the school. What did he mean we were being hooked up to the matrix. I kept thinking. We are like everyone else, stupid, unaware, and this technician was the mecca, the morpheus, taking his day off to get high and say crazy shit to scare kids.
I like it.
« Last Edit: February 20, 2012, 11:37:53 PM by zachary.hamilton15 »

Offline 510bhan

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Re: Technician
« Reply #1 on: February 21, 2012, 09:30:05 AM »
He told us we were about to be connected into the matrix. "Call me, not the front desk. A technician is your Mecca, your Morpheus, like in the Matrix, that movie."  We discuss fiber optics cables with him. He points out the direct line from our house (N.E portland) to the phone lines that run haphazard all nested with birds above our street. Tucked behind our broken down car (last week a meth addict wanted parts out of) a hired tweaker showsing us cable lines. His pupils are giant discs as I we approach the front door to go inside.let him in He gives a generous, loving smile and a hand shake that is at once removed and then at the stilted moment, conscious of each other, I let him into our house, wide-eyed and large pupils, loving and calling me baby, but it comes out babe.
  
My friend, who ordered the internet earlier, and sits on the couch (, lose this comma now) reading text messages from somewhere. I introduce them and watch them walk outside. My friend watches the part between the carpets and the tile. (Why? Is this relevant, germane to the story?) I feel strange knowing this technician is high, it is at once feeling like we are high too, a sort of gut-wrenching feeling where the bottom drops out from underneath you, and the stereo is really, very loud. Your stomach crunches, desperate to release gas. The stomach muscles holding everything together suddenly relent and you fart. It's comical after, but the frustration leading there reminds you of the intruder near the house, but you relax remembering he is high on ecstacy and you wait. The album plays, some dark industrial disc you found at the party on Garfield St. the other evening.

My friend comes back in and we discuss him being high. “Where is he?”

“He's outside.” I'm curious whether we can figure out if he's high, (Taken you a while hasn't it? You thought he was high from the beginning? Do you mean you're going to search for evidence?) so I go outside and it's a dark drizzling afternoon in Portland, over on the northeast side. I think I am at the beach and look around the yard. I don't see him, and my friend comes out behind me. We search the yard and see his company van. He's around the side yard. When we see him come back he skips ahead of conversation, looking frightened a moment, he has put on more different shoes, a cloth overcoat the company releases issue, standard kind. He speaks normally but his eyes, they look worried.  

Later, on I am online I looking at stories about technicians, and I find a video with a technician for comcast fallen asleep on the client's couch, laptop wide open on his lap, circuit board open next to him. Then I watch a video of a comcast technician breaking into someone's electrical box with a screwdriver, explaining how to jack electricity. At that point I began to study less (, lose this comma) his movements or his collection of electronics tools stuffed here and there around his belt line.  

The sky grows dark above us, and looking at the wires, above the neighborhood, I started to dread this day. Hooking us to the Matrix, come on I mean I like the reference, but not in connection to my home where in which I live. I don't want to feel more invaded upon within my surrounding walls than I already am have. already become used to being. I mean... I want to listen to music, watch videos, and write poems just as much as the next guy, but not be connected to that guy with the full scale package- tv, wireless, internet, telephone, cell phone.... the whole damn package. (Find a substituion for one of the 'package' mentions.) At least I am hopeing hope that is not where my years of anti tv, phone, and car has led me, back into the wireless belly of the beast.
  

Hello, maybe I am high now too, I thought to myself (Who else would you 'think' to?), poring over the technician's words. Sure, he was nice and really, really awfully high on: methamphetamine, speed mushrooms, ecstacy, laced we didn't know what. (This is a huge assumption -- you have not proved it despite your 'curiosity', which provides no evidence anyway -- you need to think about what you want to mention and what moves the story along. There is conflicting information.) And then he is coming comes into my house with his razor blade intelligence,(apart from saying he is the Mecca/Morpheus [a reference that could be lost on non-Matrix fans btw] what other evidence does he provide of this razor blade intelligence? Maybe include some dialogue to address this.) searching through our minds for a lock he can get unlocked. I felt revealed (exposed? Or do you mean you experienced a revelation?), my insanity had finally come into being with this moment, he had shown us the way out, [when did he do this?] by mentioning the world addiction, he was still offering us a way out, but my friend had already signed up for the internet, and we were getting it now, whether we liked it or not. It seemed to be a last chance, should we take it? Is there time?

All of these things kept rummaging for answers through my brain. I guess the moment had come. Soon I had to leave the house, get to school and turn in my late paperwork. I left my friend with the high technician and walked a half hour over to the school. (So, no parents for these school-age 'kids' ordering extra internet services? If it is their place, maybe 'college' rather than 'school'?) What did he mean we were being hooked up to the matrix? I kept thinking. We are like everyone else, stupid, unaware, and this technician was the Mecca, the Morpheus, taking his day off to get high and say crazy shit to scare kids.
 
I like it.



I think there are some sections that require more clarity and some conversation from the technician would certainly help. Also -- either you know he is high or you don't -- that needs to be sorted. ;) ;) ;)
« Last Edit: February 21, 2012, 09:33:05 AM by 510bhan »

Offline minusthematt

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Re: Technician
« Reply #2 on: February 21, 2012, 09:58:21 AM »
Overall- Can I relate to it? I can relate to awful Comcast technicians and trying to decide if people are high. The whole 'Matrix' bit and the fear of being 'connected'- Nope, not really.

Detailed issues below. Take it as it is; constructive criticism. Hope it helps.


Quote
He told us we were about to be connected into the matrix. Call me, not the front desk, A technician is your mecca, your morpheus, like in the matrix, that movie.  We discuss fiber optics cables with him. He points out the direct line from our house (N.E portland) to the phone lines run half hazard all nested with birds above our street. Tucked behind our broken down car (last week a meth addict wanted parts out of) a hired tweaker showing us cable lines. His pupils are giant discs as I approach the front door to let him in, a generous, loving smile and a hand shake that at once removed and then at the stilted moment, concious of each other, I let him into our house, wide eyed and large pupils, loving and calling me baby, but it comes out babe.

A bit confusing here. “Call me, not the front desk” -- Is that speech from someone or is it addressed to the reader? I think it’s meant to be a quote from the technician, and the ensuing ‘discussion’ is done by phone. But it’s not clear. If that whole sentence is being spoken then put it in quotes!

Not sure if it’s necessary to indicate you’re in N.E Portland.

“run half hazard all nested…”—how about “to the phone lines, running haphazardly above our street and filled with nesting birds”
Maybe I’m wrong then about the phone call, since he’s now ‘tucked behind our broken car’ (that’s who the tweaker is right?). Also, is there any reason for inverting the sentence there? Why can’t it read “A hired tweaker showed us cable lines tucked behind our broken car (which last week a meth addict wanted part from.)”

The end of the paragraph sounds like you’re now just coming face to face with him, but weren’t you just outside being shown cables?

   
Quote
My friend ordered the internet earlier and sits on the couch, reading text messages from some where. I introduce them and watch them walk outside. My friend watches the part between the carpets and the tile. I feel strange knowing this technician is high, it is at once feeling like we are high too, a sort of gut wrencing feeling where the bottom drops out from underneath you, and the stereo is really, very loud. Your stomach crunches, desperate to release gas, the stomach muscles holding everything together suddenly relent and you fart.
Its comical after, but the frustration leading there reminds you of the intruder near the house, but you relax remembering he is high on extacy and you wait. The album plays, some dark industrail disc you found at the party on garfield st. the other evening.

“Ordered the internet”- maybe ordered internet service. Text messages are from someone not somewhere.

Where outside is there a “part” between carpet and the tile- and why is your friend watching that spot? Unclear.

Few mistakes in the sentence about the technician being high, but its overall a nice sentence (mistakes= “really, very” is unnecessary and ugly. Wrencing= wrenching. “it is at once” is awkward.)

Its= It’s. You’re dropping the vowel so you need the apostrophe. How do you know he’s on ecstasy*? 

“You found”—suddenly you’re talking to me? I don’t know what an ‘industrial’ disc is either.

Quote
My friend comes back in and we discuss him being high.
“Where is he?”
“He's outside.” I'm curious whether we can figure out if he's high, so I go outside and it's a dark drissling afternoon in portland, over on the north east side. I think I am at the beach and look around the yard. I don't see him, and my friend comes out behind me. We search the yard and see his companies van. He's around the side yard. When we see him come back he skips ahead of conversation, looking frightened a moment, he has put on more shoes, a cloth over coat the company releases, standard kind. He speaks normally but his eyes, they look worried.  Later on I am online looking at stories about technicians, and I find a video with a technician for comcast fallen asleep on the clients couch, laptop wide open on his lap, circuit board open next to him, then I watch a video of a comcast technician breaking into someones electrical box with a screwdriver, explaining how to jack electricity.

Drizzling*
Why on earth would you think you were at the beach when it’s dark and drizzling?
Company’s*
He put on MORE shoes? As in, he’s wearing 2 pairs of shoes now? Huh?
Overcoat*
Releases or gives away?
When you said “skips ahead of conversation” I believed that to mean they didn’t talk. But “He speaks normally” proves otherwise…
Comcast should be capitalized. Proper noun.
Client’s* couch
Someone’s*

Quote
At this point I began to study less, his movements or his collection of electronics tools stuffed here and there around his belt line. The sky grows dark above us, and looking at the wires, above the neighborhood, I started to dread this day. Hooking us to the Matrix, come on I mean I like the reference, but not in connection to my home where in which I live. I don't want to feel more invaded upon   (within my surrounding walls) than I have already become used to being. I mean... I want to listen to music, watch videos, and write poems just as much as the next guy, but not be connected to that guy with the full scale package- tv, wireless, internet, telphone, cell phone.... the whole damn package. At least I am hopeing that is not where my years of anti tv, phone, and car has led me, back into the wireless belly of the beast?
Study him less?

The sentence read that ‘his movements’ were stuffed around his belt, along with his collection of electronics…which doesn’t make sense.  Here and there—maybe use sporadically?

“Grows”—you keep switching tenses. Is this past or present tense? I mean, I would think it’s past tense since you’re also talking about what you did later (looking up Comcast technician videos) but when you say the sky grows dark, it’s happening NOW.

Yours fears of being “connected” (I don’t know why you say ‘wireless’ belly of the beast later :/) should be more fully explained.

   
Quote
Hello, maybe I am high now too. I thought to myself, poring over the technicians words. Sure, he was nice and really, really awefully high on: methamphetime, speed mushrooms, ecstacy, laced we didn't know what. And then he is coming into my house with his razor blade intelligence, searching through our minds for a lock he can get unlocked. I felt revealed, my insanity had finally come into being with this moment, he had shown us the way out, by mentioning the world addiction, he was still offering us a way out, but my friend had already singed up for the internet, and we were getting it now, whether we liked it or not. It seemed to be a last chance, should we take it? Is there time? All of these things kept rummaging for answers through my brain. I guess the moment had come. Soon I had to leave the house, get to school and turn in my late paperwork. I left my friend with the high technician and walked a half hour over to the school. What did he mean we were being hooked up to the matrix. I kept thinking. We are like everyone else, stupid, unaware, and this technician was the mecca, the morpheus, taking his day off to get high and say crazy shit to scare kids.
I like it.

You did say it was ecstasy earlier…And do you or do you not know he is high? Make up your mind.

Hello? Who are you talking to? Ah, to yourself. Do you normally say hello when talking to yourself? Put the thoughts in quotes or italics or something also. Like this
‘Maybe I am high now too,’ I thought to myself.

“Razor blade intelligence”—sounds cool, no idea what it means.

Offline squebble

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Re: Technician
« Reply #3 on: February 21, 2012, 05:21:04 PM »
I'm super duper confused by the Poll attached to this.  ???

Offline wanderer

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Re: Technician
« Reply #4 on: February 21, 2012, 06:31:35 PM »
Quote
I'm super duper confused by the Poll attached to this.

Yes, and I just ignored it....maybe someone can clarify it for us ??

Offline 510bhan

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Re: Technician
« Reply #5 on: February 21, 2012, 06:39:36 PM »
Could be that as a newbie, Z has clicked on post new poll instead of just new topic . . . with the word 'post' being first in that title, it's an easy mistake to make.  ;)

I know I've done it before, but then I just clicked back on my browser to take me away from it -- not having hit post, obviously -- and tried again. Too late if you've hit 'post' though. :-[ :-[ :-[

zachary.hamilton15

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Re: Technician
« Reply #6 on: February 21, 2012, 08:11:29 PM »
I'm super duper confused by the Poll attached to this.  ???
You and me both.
=zach

zachary.hamilton15

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Re: Technician
« Reply #7 on: February 21, 2012, 08:13:10 PM »
Thanks everybody for your really in depth help. I will go through and rework my piece the next time I have a minute.
+zach

Offline wanderer

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Re: Technician
« Reply #8 on: February 21, 2012, 09:04:42 PM »
Quote
Could be that as a newbie, Z has clicked on post new poll instead of just new topic . . . with the word 'post' being first in that title, it's an easy mistake to make.

Thanks and now I have a heads up when I try a poll  ;)