Month: January 2015 (page 1 of 2)

The Street Girl

Street GIrl


Time was when I’d gladly have listened,
Before I was tainted with shame,
But it wouldn’t be fair to you honey;
Men laugh when they mention my name.Back there on the farm in Nebraska,
I might have said yes to you then,
But I thought the world was a playground;
Just teeming with Santa Claus men.
So I left the old home for the city,
To play in its mad, dirty whirl,
Never knowing how little of pity,
It holds for a slip of a girl.You think I’m still good-looking honey!
But no I am faded and spent,
Even Helen of Troy would look seedy,
If she followed the pace I went.
But that day I came in from the country,
With my hair down my back in a curl;
Through the length and the breadth of the city,
There was never a prettier girl.I soon got a job in the chorus,
With nothing but looks and a form,
I had a new man every evening,
And my kisses were thrilling and warm.
I might have sold them for a fortune,
To some old sugar daddy with dough,
But youth called to youth for its lover,
There was plenty that I didn’t know.Then I fell for the “line” of a “junker”,
A slim devotee of hop,
And those dreams in the juice of a poppy;
Had got me before I could stop.
But I didn’t care while he loved me,
Just to lie in his arms was a delight,
But his ardour grew cold and he left me;
In a Chinatown “hop-joint” one night.

Well I didn’t care then what happened,
A Chink took me under his wing,
And down there in a hovel of hell —
I laboured for Hop and Ah-Sing
Oh no I’m no longer a “Junker”,
The police came and got me one day,
And I took the one cure that is certain,
That island out there in the bay.

Don’t spring that old gag of reforming,
A girl hardly ever goes back,
Too many are eager and waiting;
To guide her feet off of the track.
A man can break every commandment
And the world will still lend him a hand,
Yet a girl that has loved, but un-wisely
Is an outcast all over the land.

You see how it is don’t you honey,
I’d marry you now if I could,
I’d go with you back to the country,
But I know it won’t do any good,
For I’m only a poor branded woman
And I can’t get away from the past.
Good-bye and God bless you for asking
But I’ll stick out now till the last.

-Bonnie Parker

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And so I guess that’s the end of week two






My posts for the week:

Writing Assignments                                     Daily Creates

Alternate Ending 3 points                                                  Cat and a synthesizer
Poems 3 points                                                                        Eye selfie
Recipe Haiku 3 points                                                           Collage your day

Further Readings in Noir
Cleo Barrow: Notorious Bank Thief
Bonus: Color Scheming for your blog

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The lights are off and the Greek is dead.

“Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? So help you God.”

The cop straightened up. “I do.” It was the same cop that saw the ladder waiting out the window for Cora. The cop that heard the Greek yowl when Cora hit him in the head too hard.

Then the suits started asking him questions. “Where were you on the night of Nick Papadakis’s death?” “Did you see Frank or Cora on that night?” “Could you explain what you saw?”

And that was it; we were sunk. Cora had killed him and I was her accomplice. We’d get time for sure. No matter what Cora and I said up there. The cop saw the ladder, and he saw me outside waiting for her. Then there was the affair, so the jury knew our motive. That crafty lawyer saw the affair once he looked at the case. If she’d have just run away with me, we wouldn’t have any of this.

When they put Cora up, she said as little as could. She knew we were done, but didn’t want to give ’em anything else. She’d barely look at me. I came up with the plan, but now she was in trouble ’cause my dumb plan went wrong.


We both got life in prison. No chance of parole. No chance of seeing each other again.

She was so resigned. She’d accepted it. But I couldn’t.

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Midnight Call: Brother, I Need You

Brother, I need you
the night has fallen
I go to the phone
with sleep in my eyes

Brother, come help me
the world is bigger
than I thought before
I can’t do this alone

Brother, I miss you
just come
give your favorite girl a hug

Told from the point of view of my character, Cleo Barrow, when she calls her brother for help. I’m not really sure what this assignment was; I think this was what it wanted. There was just a poem with no instructions. In their poem it was midnight calling the narrator, but for mine I decided to make it the call my narrator would make at midnight, when she’s most desperate and most vulnerable. Since that was only worth two points, here’s a haiku  from Cleo for one more point:

I keep my love for
only my best girl, the one
with hair like sun

Chocolate Tres Leches: A Tasty Haiku

chocolate cake; milk:

condensed, evaporated,

half-and-half on top


then put some icing,

chocolate is the best kind,

and eat that cake, yum!

It’s gone over well every time I’ve made it! I brought it in for Spanish class before and it was a major hit; everybody liked it better than the plain tres leches. Here’s the full recipe if anybody wants to try it. here’s the assignment

Cleo Barrow: Notorious Bank Thief

You know Bonnie and Clyde? What if it was Bonnie and Cleo instead?

Admittedly inspired by the Avicii music video here. But I’m gonna take it a couple decades later, so that they aren’t in the depression, but instead children of the depression. Here’s what I put for Cleo’s bio when I submitted the character dossier:

“Pretty much a female version of Clyde Barrow of Bonnie and Clyde fame. I’m gonna play around with the character some and try to not change the personality all that much, aside from making her more feminine, maybe more of a city person than Clyde and smoother with flirting and such. Still trying to decide what to do with Bonnie, but I guess I’ll figure her out later. But I do think Cleo’d call her kitten.”

To all who meet her, she’s the mysterious woman, but those who really know her she’s a jerk with a heart of gold. I also drew a picture of what she should look like, but I haven’t decided if I like it enough to put it on the internet yet :). But basically she’s tall, and has feminine curves, and wide hips. Plus dark hair, brown eyes, and a know-it-all smile. If this is going to be a character I’m working with all semester, then I am going to go way deep into her background and personal details. But that will take a whole lot of thought and I usually like to take a few weeks to get to know a character like that, so I will be sure to show how well-rounded a character she turns into in upcoming assignments. I have a whole page of ideas written down for her that could take her story in completely different ways, but I’ll wait until I get to know her better before I tell y’all my plans for this girl.

Also I made her a little soundcloud playlist to get me inspired. It’s not stuff from her era, but if she were kickin it in the present day I think she’d listen to this:

Further Readings in Noir Fiction

In this weeks further readings of noir fiction, I started off with “The Postman Always RIngs Twice.”

Our protagonist and antihero, Frank, stumbles into a restaurant and the desperate owner, Nick (called the Greek by Frank), hires him on the spot. Frank soon dives into an affair with Cora, the Greek’s wife and femme fatale of the story. She came to California expecting to be swept up in a life of glamour, but ended up poor and too embarrassed to go home. She married Nick, not for love, but to live comfortably. But with Frank she had love and passion. The two of them came up with a plan to kill the Greek and run the restaurant themselves, but their initial plan failed due to a blackout. They try again much later by getting Nick drunk and staging a car crash. In the end they avoid punishment and things seem to be working out, until they get in a real car accident and Cora dies. After the deaths of Cora and Nick, it makes Frank look too suspicious, and he’s sentenced to death. They got what was coming to them. I kind of hated both Cora and Frank as much as Leysa did.  I can see how the dark themes, crime, and dialogue style put it in the noir category, but I really don’t think it was good enough that it deserved to be in the modern library top 100 novels list.

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Color Scheming For Your Blog

DS106 is getting off to a great start! Since everybody is customizing their blogs and putting the finishing touches on I thought I would share some stuff about color schemes. So if anybody would like I’ve put together a list of articles and resources for creating a really nice-looking blog.

Also here’s some other resources you might want while designing your blog:




Okay even after three years of graphic design class in high school, I think this might be my highest crowning achievement in photoshop, my favorite overall, my prized creation, I want this printed on my tombstone; what I’m saying is, I legitimately love this. This cat looks like he’s just had a life altering realization, and that realization is that he must play the synthesizer. I got a bit carried away and it took me longer than it should have, and maybe my time would have been better spent working on my character dossier, but come on look how great this turned out!

p.s. – totally kidding, nobody put this on my tombstone. 

Noir 106: Week 1 – What is Noir?






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