The following is an experimental exquisite corpse writing. To produce it, I searched on the Internet to find "famous opening lines of novels." I chose the second most famous: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife" (Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, 1813). Then I searched to find what resulted from entering that line into a search. I clicked on each result and read until I felt I had found a sentence (or phrase, section, title, whatever) that was non-essay-like; an impotent phrase (something that could be read as a signifier to fit with any or all-such, so to say). If I felt this did not exist on the page, I moved on to the next. The sentences/phrases that were found to apply are stitched together in the following story.

The Margins of Engagement
(sources follow)

The news that a wealthy young gentleman named Charles Bingley has rented the manor known as Netherfield Park causes a great stir in the neighboring village of Longbourn, especially in the Bennet household. "Today was a very cold and bitter day, as cold and bitter as a cup of hot chocolate, if the cup of hot chocolate had vinegar added to it and were placed in a refrigerator for several hours." Da Da Da Dum.... It's time to choose a BA. Mrs. Bennet, a foolish woman who talks too much and is obsessed with getting her daughters married. This should be smaller than the outer text; the right margin should be wider, but the left margin should be the same. This angers Elizabeth even more, as she feels that it is solely because of her family that he would want to prohibit any sort of engagement between Bingley and Jane or Elizabeth and himself. No, you've not lost your way. Mrs. Bennet sees Mr. Bingley as a potential suitor for her daughters, and attempts to persuade Mr. Bingley to visit him. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces."

sources, in order, searched on 04/06/2011:
http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/pride/section1.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irony (quote: The Unauthorized Autobiography of Lemony Snicket)
http://www.online-literature.com/austen/prideprejudice/
http://tlonuqbar.typepad.com/phfn/docs/sample.html
http://www.novelguide.com/prideandprejudice/toptenquotes.html
http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/ppv1n01.html
http://www.gradesaver.com/pride-and-prejudice/study-guide/section1/
http://www.myprideandprejudice.com/2009/08/it-is-a-truth-universally-acknowledged-homages-and-parodies/ (quote: Bridget Jones's Diary)

The following is an experimental exquisite corpse writing. To produce it, I searched on the Internet to find the "most famous opening line of a novel." I found "Call me Ishmael" (Moby-Dick, Herman Melville, 1851). Then I searched to find what resulted from entering that line into a search. I clicked on each result and read until I felt I had found a sentence (or phrase, section, title, whatever) that was non-essay-like—an impotent phrase (something that could be read as a signifier to fit with any or all-such, so to say). If I felt this did not exist on the page, I moved on to the next. The sentences/phrases that were found to apply are stitched together in the following story.


Interior Design and Bookshelves
(sources follow)


Mocha Dick had dozens of harpoons from attacks by other whalers, and appeared to attack ships with premeditated ferocity. Some years ago I read an article about interior design and bookshelves. And it will upon you as well. In my mind’s eye the vision is clear: It is a warm summer weekend, late in the afternoon or maybe dusk. At the risk of offending my sister, I’m going to write about her cat, Jack. I Am Stop, You Are Go. His financial situation was poor and he was desperately in need of a publishing success. One minute it's the stubbly, hysterical laymen of Lebanon, shooting their rifles in the air, like children, that's the story we all wanna hear, beardy blokes, shouting at the camera, waving placards and then, the next, all Hell breaks loose on the Pacific Rim, Mother Nature clears her throat and the works of man - and his Holy StockMarkets - come tumbling down, washed away in a roaring tide of shit and corpses. All this bobbing and bouncing… it’s enough to make you sea-sick.

sources, in order, searched on 03/15/2011:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moby-Dick
http://jeffsharlet.blogspot.com/
http://www.amazon.com/Call-Me-Ishmael-Charles-Olson/dp/0801857317
http://www.uniwatchblog.com/2010/07/03/call-me-ishmael/
http://callmeishmael.org/
http://www.myspace.com/cmi
http://www.melville.org/hmmoby.htm
http://mrishmael.blogspot.com/
http://horsesass.org/?p=27177

Exquisite Corpse Story: “I’m the Boss That’s Why,” by Sarah, David, Christopher, John, and Anna

On some mornings the coffee had a distinct iron-like taste to it - too much like blood, a little like tinfoil. Maybe it was just her imagination because she knows the reason for its taste, but has anyone else in the office noticed? She smiled while she filled her bosses ‘I’m the Boss, That’s Why’ coffee cup then placed it on his desk in front of him. She smiled again, a warm June Clever morning smile as he grabbed the cup and slurped the black liquid down. She has been smiling a lot lately. She hoped that the ferrous swill would throttle back his apathy circuits. Perhaps today he would fix the damned water softener she thought to herself. [She] checked the filter and, sure enough, [she] found a bloody finger wrapped in foil. Nausea and shock - but Stan had said he was going to wait - she thought. Was this his doing? Had he seemed nervous in the elevator? Yes, he had, she realized. Did Stan know what was going on? What was he hiding? There seem to be two plots happening at once. Where did that finger come from? She became nervous knowing that this would only bring attention to her unrelated deviant office scheme, which she was excited to finally implement. Her mind raced as she shook the rain off her scarlet Prada raincoat and climbed the wet stairs to her third floor walkup. As she reached the top step she froze. There was a package resting in front of her apartment door. She hesitated as she leaned over the package to see who had sent the brown paper box. Nothing was written.

Participants:
(via Facebook)

Exquisite Corpse: "I Hate to Cook Book," a story by Sarah, Erin, Meredith, Allison, and David

When she was in the supermarket, it was always the same thing—two bags of chips, two frozen boxes of fish fingers, and a quart of raspberry iced tea. But today, instead of going straight home from the store, she had to stop by the dry cleaners to pick up her Wonder Woman costume. And then she saw him. He was standing at the corner, looking down at the tattered paperback copy of the "I Hate to Cook Book" in his left hand. He carried an umbrella with a handle carved to look like a duck. She knew she had seen him somewhere before. But where... where...where...? When the answer came to her, she almost dropped her purse. They had met ten minutes before she committed the murder, outside the hospital. He has asked for a light and she had given him one. He had complimented her hair. She appreciated the compliment regarding her tasseled mess because the humidity was high that day. It reminded her of the emotional melt down she had earlier that morning about accepting the fact that she could not control all things in her life, including her hair.

Participants:

(via Facebook)