Demerits

by Karyn Huntting Peters


"Bullshit." He switched off his monitor. "Pure and utter bullshit."

"What do you mean?" She was upset and she knew it showed. "I didn't think it was all that bad."

"That's not stream of consciousness. Stream? You know, stream? Like flowing? That does not flow."

"Flow?"

"Flow. Like a river. Like ink from a pen. Like thoughts through your mind, uncontrolled. Can't you let them flow? Let them flow, and let the flow of the ink be their manifestation in the physical world, their mark."

"Just from the pen? How?"

"Don't think! Jeez. Try closing your eyes. Put a sheet of paper in front of you. Like this. Hold it like this. Feel the pen. Then just write. Easy. Move the pen to the rhythm of your thoughts. Make them one."

"But my lines will be all crooked. What if I go off the edge of the paper? And what about my handwriting? It won't even be readable. I know it will be a huge mess."

"For God's sake. I swear you're a walking block to the flow of everything natural. Just try it, would you?"

"That's not the way I learned. It'd take so much unlearning."

"Then--"

"Unlearn?"

"You're finally learning."

She sighed. "I feel like I'm going to get demerits for not using a straight-edge to make my lines come out even. Does that make sense? I mean lots of demerits. Serious demerits."

He shook his head, stifling a smile.

"What? What is it?" She searched his eyes for an answer.

"About those demerits you're so worried about for not following the rules?"

"Yeah?"

"Let me tell you something. This school is different than the kind you're thinking of. It's called life."

"Okay, life. And?"

"Whoever dies with the most demerits wins."