WE 6

Chih-Chung Tsai

LTWR 113 Intercultural writing

Rivera-Garza

2/15/11

Option B.

Week 6: Translation

Version 1.

Dear Alan,

How has Buffalo been treating you? Have you been keeping yourself busy? Manhattan must seem so distant to you now. I've just been writing term papers. What class are you teaching now?

Shelly and I have divorced. Inside, there is little left but numbness.

Do you know a person by the name of Ed Snow? He's an interesting man, quite philisophical and off the point at times. I had a run in with him the other day, and I feel you may know him.

I've been thinking of writing “prose” these days. What would you suggest?

So is there anything new in your life?

Version 2:

Alan.

I never thought you would just up and move away from Manhattan. Having your car broken into isn't exactly the best reason to move to Buffalo. We've all had something like that happen to us. It may be a shitty place here, but it's where we all are. Well, to each his own. I wish you the best of luck out there in Buffalo. What is there even to do there? My term papers have kept me encapsulated in my room. No greater master...

Have you been teaching lately?

Shelly and I broke up. Things weren't going the way we expected them to. And after so long, it's hard to imagine. We all know the same people, everyone has gotten to know us together. Now we'll have to make something of ourselves without each other. It's really not too hard on me anymore. It's just a numbness inside that persists.

Remember Ed Snow? I ran into that bastard last week. He's still the same. Philosophical, spaced out, blabbering on, and never gets to the point. Well I hope you don't have the misfortune of meeting him.

What do you think about writing Prose? I've been giving this some thought lately. The form intrigues me, but I just don't quite know where to start.

What have you been doing all this time? Is there any news that I have not yet heard?

Version 3:

Alan.

It's been a while since you've left Manhattan. I still think about the day you told me you were moving to Buffalo. How you promised you would visit us more often. I sincerely hope our friendship is more than a mere acquaintance. Nonetheless, I am writing you with sad news. Shelly and I have divorced. She quoted irreconcilable differences, and I couldn't stop arguing. I have no feelings left, Alan. She's left me now. It's just numb.

I'm just as listless with my writing. I've no direction anymore. I want to start somewhere new. Perhaps with prose. I've stopped reading lately, haven't been able to muster myself towards literary endeavors. However, prose has interested me.

I talked to Ed Snow the other day. He mentioned you. Do you remember him? He wanders with his thoughts.

Hope to hear from you again, good friend.

Version 4:

Dear Alan

As long as it's been since you've moved away like the surly teenage girl that you are, it's still good to hear from you as frequently as possible. Things aren't the same here in Manhattan! We still find things to do, there's always people to talk to and places to see. But I'm sure you have enough of that in the wild city of Buffalo (ha ha). Don't lose your marbles out there man. It must be a big change of pace. I have this one term paper that's totally kicking my ass. Can't seem to get through it.

To break even more news over your head, Shelly and I have filed for a divorce. There's just no love in it anymore. We didn't really fight much, I don't need to tell you about how we were, you knew both of us so well. It just died. But no matter. I've been trying to move on. I'm numb inside, but what could be better, you know? We're both single again, but that word hardly brings about the connotations it did when we were all younger.

How has teaching been treating you lately? Any difficulties?

That Ed Snow character, remember him? He started ranting to me again the other day, when I ran into him. He told me about his philosophy on life, and how he imagines the future for our field of writing. He's interesting, don't get me wrong, but the shit he talks about is ridiculous. Sigh. What a unfortunate acquaintance.

In all the work we've done, we've tried to be “revolutionary”, and tried to make something new. Well, all we have to show for it now is the mountain of things we've written. I'm tired of trying to find something original. I want to write prose. What do you think?

Hope this letter finds you well, Alan. I wish you well. Visit me, you ass.