Welcome to International Fake Journal Month 2013!

What is IFJM?
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Participants who Post Their Journals
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View a Couple of Roz's Past Fake Journals
Roz's 2009 fake journal takes place in an alternate Twin Cites, where disease has killed the human and bird populations. (It ends up being an upbeat tale of friendship.) Watch a video flip through of Roz's 2009 fake journal here.

Read an explanation of Roz's insanely complex 2011 fake journal.

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Remember, "Life's so short, why live only one?"


Sunday, May 8, 2011

Twenty-Seventh Page Spread in Roz's 2011 Fake Journal

Click on the image to view an enlargement.
Above, the twenty-seventh page spread in my 2011 fake journal. I've included a vertical view of the verso page at the end of this post. The text on the recto page reads as follows:

April 27, 2011 New pen—the crispest ever! I can't even write with it!
6:50 p.m.

He came into the room while I was seated, journal in my lap, page open to Sean Connery, smoothing the tape down, over and over, lost in thought. I must have looked unhappy.

B: Are you sad mostly about Connery not being Grim?

T: No, not mostly. Not even perhaps. I'm realistic about that. Today I've been thinking about Jim and how he treated Anne. Cheating her with the business. And we can't say anything.

B: No we can't say anything.

T: If only she'd talked to you or me first.

B: I knew she'd over paid. We could see things were changing.

T: He lived his life on her back.

B: Yep.
long pause

T (smiling): I'm going to write a murder mystery about it. Stealing someone's life that way.

B (chuckling): I thought you would. You have a tell. Whenever you're about to kill someone.

T: I do?

B: Yes, you stroke the page with your fingers—just like that [pointing], as if you're smoothing it down, pressing out wrinkles—left index, right index.

T (absently watching her fingers): Hmmm you're right I do.

Laughter

I don't think I would have noticed. How do you notice something that is so ingrained it's unconsciously performed? And then later I realized I've always had this tell. It started when I was three. I would stroke my stuffed kitty which had real fur (rabbit I suppose?). I would stroke its head one finger at a time. And think, and plot, and ponder—until everything was smoothed out.

Left: Click on the image to view an enlargement of the verso page of this spread, turned so that you can view it in the correct orientation.

1 comment:

Miss T said...

Oooh, what a great tell!