By: Magdalena Mihaylova and Jane Kirkpatrick
A typical Thursday night at el Bodegón Tocuyo (minus the journals).
Jane and I are used to getting stares. (Narcissism—we'll get to that later). So when we pulled out our respective journals at one of our favorite bars in La Laguna, el Bodegón Tocuyo, we didn't mind the curious glances at the two girls sipping red wine, intermittently chatting in English and scribbling away on fresh blank paper.
Five minutes. In the middle of our conversations—which tend to revolve around feminism, sex, gender, living abroad, the United States—Jane and I would stop, set a timer, and write based on a one word prompt; an exercise in randomness, in wildness. It frustrated me that the deep, deconstructed conversations we were having turned into half-baked poems and unoriginal, often childish thoughts as I felt the stress of the timer, the hum of the packed bar, and the knowledge that this would be published weigh on my back.
But alas, perhaps that is what it means to be wild—to, for once, not care about being perfect or polished, as Jane and I, results of the American educational system and the context of a prestigious grant, have always strived to be.
Four prompts, five minutes each. A plate of peanuts (to later be scattered on the floor; if you don't, a waiter will do it for you) and a Coca Cola bottle of housemade wine in between us.
What could go wrong?
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Prompt #1: Connection
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Prompt #2: Narcissism
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Prompt #3: Patriotism
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Prompt #4: Wild
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