Poem: "The Freedom Machine"
Jun. 8th, 2014 02:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is from the November 2013 ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crowdfunding Creative Jam. It was inspired by a prompt from jeshyr who wanted to address the issue of bystander pity and curiosity, and mobility devices as empowerment. Several poems in P.I.E. have come directly out of requests or comments from people with disabilities, which has really added a lot to the complexity and verisimilitude. It also fills the "curiosity" square in my 8-13-13 card for the origfic_bingo fest. This poem is posted as the free epic for the June 3, 2014 fishbowl reaching the $200 goal, selected in an audience poll, and I'm amused you did that right after "Going Places" was posted. Point and counterpoint at your convenience; tell ALL the stories!
"The Freedom Machine"
Brenda wanted to introduce Darrel
to her favorite Japanese takeout restaurant,
which was sort of a hole-in-the-wall
bizarrely crammed into what had once been
the front of a large fieldstone building,
rimmed with picturesque steps
and not a ramp in sight.
Tangy koto music floated from speakers.
Darrel raised his eyebrows.
"This is your favorite Japanese place?"
"Don't worry, they know me here,"
Brenda reassured him.
"Somebody will see me soon,
and they'll send out one of the boys."
Sure enough, a teenager came
trotting down the stairs,
paper menu flapping in his hand.
It was mostly written in Japanese
with a few English words
collaged onto the ends of lines.
The translations said things like
"roast pig" and "chicken with oranges."
"Do you want beef, pork, chicken, shrimp
or vegetarian?" Brenda asked Darrel.
"Beef," he said, "you pick which."
Darrel was curious and adventurous
and usually up for trying something new,
whether or not he knew exactly what it was.
So Brenda ticked off their choices
and handed the menu back.
"I'm kind of surprise that you
choose to patronize a place where
you can't reach the ordering window,"
Darrel observed. "Freedom is a machine
that requires regular maintenance."
"It's not their fault," Brenda said.
"When I first discovered this place,
I complained about the lack of access.
It turns out they want to fix that
but they can't afford to, and
the bank won't give them a loan.
So they have to save up for it.
I hope nobody reports them before then,
because I'd hate to lose the restaurant.
I think they're putting all of my tips
straight into the renovation fund."
"Well, it's up to you," Darrel said.
"If you say the food is worth it,
I'll take your word for it."
Brenda smiled.
Darrel's easygoing personality
was one of the reasons she liked him.
While they were waiting for their food,
an older woman approached, her face
a blend of Japanese and American features.
She veered away from the restaurant
to fuss over Brenda.
"Oh, you poor thing!" she gushed.
"I'm quite fine," Brenda said
through her teeth.
"How did it happen?"
the woman asked.
She was starting to cry
over something that wasn't
even any of her business,
let alone the kind of catastrophe
that she evidently imagined it to be.
"That's not something
I care to discuss with strangers,"
Brenda replied.
"You must feel just awful
trapped in that thing," the woman said,
rapping her knuckles on the frame
of Brenda's wheelchair.
"Actually I'm very fond of it,"
Brenda said with a pat on the wheel.
This was her everyday chair,
light and graceful.
Darrel was frankly staring,
because he'd seen what
Brenda could do in a wheelchair,
especially the combat models.
Whirlwind was something
of an understatement.
Brenda's wheelchair was
her very own freedom machine.
Brenda bared her teeth
in a barracuda grin.
"May I have this dance?"
she said, holding out her hand.
Darrel obliged her, fumbling a little
to find the beat in the koto music.
They paraded back and forth a few times,
Brenda turning smartly at the ends,
and then popping up on one wheel
to twirl elegantly in place.
Darrel curled an arm
around the back of her wheelchair
and swept her into a dip.
It was a charming dance.
Their food arrived,
trotted out in a big brown bag
by the same teenager,
trailing tendrils of fragrant steam.
An older man,
probably his father,
followed and began to scold
the strange woman in Japanese.
She snapped back at him
in the same language,
one hand wiping tears from her face.
"So sorry!" the teen said, bowing to Brenda
as he handed over the bag of food.
"Bad manners, very bad."
Brenda bowed back,
a practiced tilt of head and shoulders.
"I appreciate your concern," she said
as she paid for their meal.
"You've always been thoughtful;
not everyone is, that's all."
Darrel pulled out his own wallet
and offered a few bills.
"For your renovation fund,"
he said, pointing at the steps.
The boy accepted them,
bobbing his head in thanks,
then disappeared back indoors.
"Well that was embarrassing,"
Darrel said as they strolled away.
Brenda sighed. "It happens.
Some strangers are curious as cats.
People think they have some kind of right
to rain their emotions all over me,
misinterpret my entire life,
and make overly familiar intrusions
into my personal space. You get used to it."
Then she gave him a sidelong glance.
"Or not. Friends have left me over it."
Darrel rolled his eyes. "Oh, please.
It's not your fault that some people are jerks."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Brenda said.
"Thanks for playing along. I've found
that doing something unexpected
is an effective response to such things.
If I can bump them off their script,
they usually give up and leave me alone."
"I can see why," Darrel said with a smirk.
"Small minds rarely do well with surprises."
They found a bench, then,
situated in a little corner park.
They shared the contents
of the cardboard cartons,
and the food proved to be
as delicious as promised.
A few weeks later,
they were heading down the ramp
out of the courthouse building
when a gang member
being taken inside for his hearing
began shouting obscenities at Darrel.
He winced a little,
head pulling down
into the collar of his coat
like a turtle retreating into its shell.
"And there goes one of the reasons
why a lot of people don't like dating cops,"
he muttered, hastening down the ramp.
Brenda let go of her wheels
so that gravity could hurry her downward
to catch up with him. "It happens,"
she said with a philosophical shrug.
"It's not your fault some people are jerks."
Darrel smiled then,
sweet and a little shy,
and let her catch him.
* * *
Notes:
The koto is a Japanese harp. Listen to the classic song "Sakura" on koto.
Accessibility laws have some national and some local aspects. What is a "reasonable" expense for renovations in some people's opinion is not necessarily within the reach of every business that would like to improve their accessibility, and sometimes that results in losing services rather than gaining them.
Pity and curiosity from strangers can make life harder for people with handicaps. Learn about disability etiquette for general and wheelchair-specific contexts.
Wheelchair dancing is a popular sport. This woman has some of Brenda's madskillz on wheels; check out the skirt action in particular. Here's a hot black man dancing in a wheelchair.
There are many reasons why people hate cops and don't want to date or marry them. This is understandable in an era of rising police brutality, but it makes life very difficult for the good cops, who already have enough shit to deal with.
crowdfunding Creative Jam. It was inspired by a prompt from jeshyr who wanted to address the issue of bystander pity and curiosity, and mobility devices as empowerment. Several poems in P.I.E. have come directly out of requests or comments from people with disabilities, which has really added a lot to the complexity and verisimilitude. It also fills the "curiosity" square in my 8-13-13 card for the origfic_bingo fest. This poem is posted as the free epic for the June 3, 2014 fishbowl reaching the $200 goal, selected in an audience poll, and I'm amused you did that right after "Going Places" was posted. Point and counterpoint at your convenience; tell ALL the stories!"The Freedom Machine"
Brenda wanted to introduce Darrel
to her favorite Japanese takeout restaurant,
which was sort of a hole-in-the-wall
bizarrely crammed into what had once been
the front of a large fieldstone building,
rimmed with picturesque steps
and not a ramp in sight.
Tangy koto music floated from speakers.
Darrel raised his eyebrows.
"This is your favorite Japanese place?"
"Don't worry, they know me here,"
Brenda reassured him.
"Somebody will see me soon,
and they'll send out one of the boys."
Sure enough, a teenager came
trotting down the stairs,
paper menu flapping in his hand.
It was mostly written in Japanese
with a few English words
collaged onto the ends of lines.
The translations said things like
"roast pig" and "chicken with oranges."
"Do you want beef, pork, chicken, shrimp
or vegetarian?" Brenda asked Darrel.
"Beef," he said, "you pick which."
Darrel was curious and adventurous
and usually up for trying something new,
whether or not he knew exactly what it was.
So Brenda ticked off their choices
and handed the menu back.
"I'm kind of surprise that you
choose to patronize a place where
you can't reach the ordering window,"
Darrel observed. "Freedom is a machine
that requires regular maintenance."
"It's not their fault," Brenda said.
"When I first discovered this place,
I complained about the lack of access.
It turns out they want to fix that
but they can't afford to, and
the bank won't give them a loan.
So they have to save up for it.
I hope nobody reports them before then,
because I'd hate to lose the restaurant.
I think they're putting all of my tips
straight into the renovation fund."
"Well, it's up to you," Darrel said.
"If you say the food is worth it,
I'll take your word for it."
Brenda smiled.
Darrel's easygoing personality
was one of the reasons she liked him.
While they were waiting for their food,
an older woman approached, her face
a blend of Japanese and American features.
She veered away from the restaurant
to fuss over Brenda.
"Oh, you poor thing!" she gushed.
"I'm quite fine," Brenda said
through her teeth.
"How did it happen?"
the woman asked.
She was starting to cry
over something that wasn't
even any of her business,
let alone the kind of catastrophe
that she evidently imagined it to be.
"That's not something
I care to discuss with strangers,"
Brenda replied.
"You must feel just awful
trapped in that thing," the woman said,
rapping her knuckles on the frame
of Brenda's wheelchair.
"Actually I'm very fond of it,"
Brenda said with a pat on the wheel.
This was her everyday chair,
light and graceful.
Darrel was frankly staring,
because he'd seen what
Brenda could do in a wheelchair,
especially the combat models.
Whirlwind was something
of an understatement.
Brenda's wheelchair was
her very own freedom machine.
Brenda bared her teeth
in a barracuda grin.
"May I have this dance?"
she said, holding out her hand.
Darrel obliged her, fumbling a little
to find the beat in the koto music.
They paraded back and forth a few times,
Brenda turning smartly at the ends,
and then popping up on one wheel
to twirl elegantly in place.
Darrel curled an arm
around the back of her wheelchair
and swept her into a dip.
It was a charming dance.
Their food arrived,
trotted out in a big brown bag
by the same teenager,
trailing tendrils of fragrant steam.
An older man,
probably his father,
followed and began to scold
the strange woman in Japanese.
She snapped back at him
in the same language,
one hand wiping tears from her face.
"So sorry!" the teen said, bowing to Brenda
as he handed over the bag of food.
"Bad manners, very bad."
Brenda bowed back,
a practiced tilt of head and shoulders.
"I appreciate your concern," she said
as she paid for their meal.
"You've always been thoughtful;
not everyone is, that's all."
Darrel pulled out his own wallet
and offered a few bills.
"For your renovation fund,"
he said, pointing at the steps.
The boy accepted them,
bobbing his head in thanks,
then disappeared back indoors.
"Well that was embarrassing,"
Darrel said as they strolled away.
Brenda sighed. "It happens.
Some strangers are curious as cats.
People think they have some kind of right
to rain their emotions all over me,
misinterpret my entire life,
and make overly familiar intrusions
into my personal space. You get used to it."
Then she gave him a sidelong glance.
"Or not. Friends have left me over it."
Darrel rolled his eyes. "Oh, please.
It's not your fault that some people are jerks."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Brenda said.
"Thanks for playing along. I've found
that doing something unexpected
is an effective response to such things.
If I can bump them off their script,
they usually give up and leave me alone."
"I can see why," Darrel said with a smirk.
"Small minds rarely do well with surprises."
They found a bench, then,
situated in a little corner park.
They shared the contents
of the cardboard cartons,
and the food proved to be
as delicious as promised.
A few weeks later,
they were heading down the ramp
out of the courthouse building
when a gang member
being taken inside for his hearing
began shouting obscenities at Darrel.
He winced a little,
head pulling down
into the collar of his coat
like a turtle retreating into its shell.
"And there goes one of the reasons
why a lot of people don't like dating cops,"
he muttered, hastening down the ramp.
Brenda let go of her wheels
so that gravity could hurry her downward
to catch up with him. "It happens,"
she said with a philosophical shrug.
"It's not your fault some people are jerks."
Darrel smiled then,
sweet and a little shy,
and let her catch him.
* * *
Notes:
The koto is a Japanese harp. Listen to the classic song "Sakura" on koto.
Accessibility laws have some national and some local aspects. What is a "reasonable" expense for renovations in some people's opinion is not necessarily within the reach of every business that would like to improve their accessibility, and sometimes that results in losing services rather than gaining them.
Pity and curiosity from strangers can make life harder for people with handicaps. Learn about disability etiquette for general and wheelchair-specific contexts.
Wheelchair dancing is a popular sport. This woman has some of Brenda's madskillz on wheels; check out the skirt action in particular. Here's a hot black man dancing in a wheelchair.
There are many reasons why people hate cops and don't want to date or marry them. This is understandable in an era of rising police brutality, but it makes life very difficult for the good cops, who already have enough shit to deal with.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
GORGEOUS!
Date: 2014-06-08 09:04 pm (UTC)Gah, I'm glad I read quickly or I wouldn't have time to WRITE.
Re: GORGEOUS!
Date: 2014-06-08 09:10 pm (UTC)Yay! I'm glad you liked this so much.
>> and your clockwork universe and and and.
Gah, I'm glad I read quickly or I wouldn't have time to WRITE. <<
Yeah, I know, I'm flypaper for eyeballs.
By the way, I'm currently working on the edits for the story you sent me; looks good so far.
Re: GORGEOUS!
Date: 2014-06-08 09:26 pm (UTC)Hoping, because I've hit the sticky bit of Dave's (EMT) story-- describing the next bit of the emergency in the LEAST descriptive way possible, LOL.
Re: GORGEOUS!
Date: 2014-06-09 03:04 am (UTC)There's a knack to writing messy medical details so as to make it scary without being so gross that people skip it, or worse, quit reading. It takes practice. I highly recommend the book Body Trauma from the Howdunit series and Lights & Sirens.
Most of the time, you want a surface description because few people know more than basic first aid. They are going to take a quick look and think something like "Oh fuck plug the leak and call 9-1-1." You need to describe:
* what part of the body is damaged
* where the blood is coming from and whether it's a little or a lot
* anything that is obviously out of place like a bone sticking through skin
* and usually someone freaking out
You need to know anatomy, at least moderate first aid principles, and how to imply what's going on without giving more detail than your characters know or your readers want to see.
But you're writing a medical expert. Now it's hard because this guy knows a lot more about medical care than you do. You are very likely to make mistakes. I can help you with the description and I can spot obvious to moderate errors. I can't help you with professional-grade proofreading here BUT you can post a call for a factchecker and probably find one. Somebody in your or my audience probably has this level of medical training and may be willing to help.
At this level, you need to include enough details to convince your audience that your character is a medical expert, without writing down any mistakes or going into so much detail that it grosses people out. There are a lot of training materials online now if you have the stomach to read them. There are blogs by EMTs. Check used-book stores for old training or first aid manuals. I've found that using explicit terminology for tools and body parts is a good way to telegraph expertise without overdoing it. You also need to consider the character's mindset because EMTs are interim helpers. They are very focused on taking care of people, but unless the injury is minor, they also expect to hand off the problem to a proper hospital very quickly, so that influence how they think and what they do.
I use this for hazard-zone emergency care:
http://www.armystudyguide.com/content/SMCT_CTT_Tasks/Skill_Level_1/0818311001-evaluate-a-cas.shtml
And this for high-caliber emergency medicine:
http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/008884.html
Notice how many of this guy's rules I follow in my writing, and in fact, followed when I came across a wreck. Some of them I have different stances on. But the author is exactly the kind of person you want on the scene when superpowered (or other) shit is hitting the fan.
For an example of how I write medical experts, in this case at an earlier level of technology, see "A Joy Forever."
"Her Steadfast Voice" shows a policevet handling a fire.
You've seen "Turning Leaves" backchannel; that's a good show of a trained victim (Stalwart Stan, who manages to direct his own care) and an untrained helper (Antimatter, who understandably panics but is at least still capable of following directions).
I hope this helps.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-06-09 04:27 am (UTC)It occurs to me to wonder whether I've remembered to point you at my song, "Wheelin'". It's kind of the opposite of Brenda's case -- the people who inspired it had invisible disabilities arthritis and fibromyalgia) that allowed them to get around, but with difficulty. It sometimes takes a little persuading to get someone like that to take the easy route, but it can make the difference between enjoying the convention, and spending the weekend recovering from the trip.
Thank you!
Date: 2014-06-09 06:20 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it.
>> It occurs to me to wonder whether I've remembered to point you at my song, "Wheelin'". <<
I have read it, although I think it was someone else who recommended it last time. This is the first I realized it's about someone I know! Naomi is one of the folks encouraging me to write more about Danso over in Polychrome Heroics.
If I haven't mentioned it before, you are one of my favorite songwriters. I love that you write about things like this.
>> It's kind of the opposite of Brenda's case -- the people who inspired it had invisible disabilities arthritis and fibromyalgia) that allowed them to get around, but with difficulty. It sometimes takes a little persuading to get someone like that to take the easy route, but it can make the difference between enjoying the convention, and spending the weekend recovering from the trip. <<
Yes, there are all different kinds of handicaps, visible and invisible, and each person has to find her own way through. What's easy for one may be hard for another.
Re: Thank you!
Date: 2014-06-10 02:14 pm (UTC)Um... thank you! *blush* *preen*
"Wheelin'" is one of my best songs, with top honors going to "Quiet Victories". It may well have been Naomi who recommended it.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-06-08 09:42 pm (UTC)Okay...
Date: 2014-06-09 01:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-06-09 04:45 am (UTC)But, yeah, love this... Brenda is who she is, wheelchair and all, and lives life at full throttle... which is faster than some of us vertical types can go. :)
I suppose you've seen the Guiness wheelchair basketball commercial (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-g0sLZIqf8&feature=kp)...
Learning to *ask* about helping with a disability is *hard*...
"Small minds rarely do well with surprises" <3 <3 <3 <3
Thoughts
Date: 2014-06-09 06:15 am (UTC)Huh. It comes up for me. It's a clip from Britain's Got Talent.
>> But, yeah, love this... Brenda is who she is, wheelchair and all, and lives life at full throttle... which is faster than some of us vertical types can go. :) <<
I'm glad this works for you. Yeah, Darrell has a hard time keeping up with her sometimes!
>> I suppose you've seen the Guiness wheelchair basketball commercial... <<
I love that one.
>> Learning to *ask* about helping with a disability is *hard*... <<
Yes, it is. Disabilities are complicated, and it's hard enough to learn your own. Learning someone else's can be really challenging.
>> "Small minds rarely do well with surprises" <3 <3 <3 <3 <<
Hee!
(no subject)
Date: 2014-08-27 09:34 pm (UTC)Yay!
Date: 2014-08-27 10:08 pm (UTC)I'm happy to hear that.
>> I've also been steadily working my way through Monster House the last few days, but I have a little longer to go with them. <<
Yeah, it's one of the big series.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-09-17 04:01 am (UTC)Yay!
Date: 2014-09-17 09:52 am (UTC)