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  #271  
Old 08-29-2012, 01:49 PM
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She had a face that looked like it knew time was money and I knew what time it was, it was a quarter to three and my five o'clock shadow was already at half past six.

I sidle over to her and say nice legs what time do they open?
She gives me the type of look a blind beggar gives a wall street suit when he can smell the change in his pockets that he says he hasn't got and says they are closed for refurbishment.

Her Beau walks in and looks me up and down, I think he likes what he sees but I don't catch that bus, I'd rather walk if you know what I mean.

You must be Mallone he says, I say I might be and say he must be Budgie. They call him Budgie because of they way he sings when the gets taken downtown and not because of his pigeon toes

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  #272  
Old 09-02-2012, 04:42 PM
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I didn't know a movie could suck so much and still be so funny. I thought I was watching a parody. It was the real deal, not a knock-off film. It was trauma. The lightning was alien. The framework was surreal in a very off way. The characters were all gay men except for Edward Norton. "Pay attention". Well, pay attention! Puh-lease stop the madness. Oh no. We can't leave yet.

Oh god. I was just being polite. Please, let's go. Oh jesus christ. There really is more to a movie than conspiring eyes. Where is the gun pointing? I am tired of getting fooled. Here's a good scene. Men in cars. Oh no. Who dropped the balls.

And now, more eye contact. They are all in on it. WTH are we looking at? Where is the object in question? And just how wide up is that staircase???? Oh, your bangs are ugly. Cut them. Grow them. Nope. Wrong.
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  #273  
Old 10-25-2012, 11:32 PM
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Words are always stuck inside me. I write to let them out. But work and every other 'must do thing' are shoulder to shoulder at the door preventing escape. At night, I wander to the table and pent up finally gets its pen. But so often, the words are scared and tired and worn down from trying to get out. I don't even know how to lay them down when they've been so long wandering in the dark with everything else in life that broods and waits to become on the other side of that door. A good way for words is to get out often and fluid flow to the page without the angst of too long locked up with the other prisoners of never will have time. There are more things in the can't do room than all the rest of life put together. I see so many people talking about their writing, but for me, it's just open the door and watch the lot of them splatter on the page random and full of pent up frustration. So, here they are. They don't say much except that they don't say much. I would speak more often, but my throat is so full of no chance to say it, I just stammer and choke and only after some time vomit out the words near the very top. I wish it were otherwise, but otherwise means that my son never sees me or my wife is alone or my house falls apart or grass isn't cut. My choking words are last on the list. So, they are ever doomed to come splattering out, and I must leave it up to readers to imagine what they might have been if given the chance.
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  #274  
Old 11-21-2012, 05:18 PM
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I think I never wrote about a couple before. ANYWAYS, here's something I wrote in about 10 minutes. Read it, if you want, I can't guarantee it's good =)


"Liz glanced at Malcolm, surprised. Her brown hair was looking gorgeous that starry night.
- Malcolm, this is…
- Yes, I know – said Malcolm, smiling.
Liz leaned over his shoulder, and both of them stared at the sky, amid a beautiful silence.
At those moments, the Milky Way was being crossed by a Galaxy Train. It was travelling through all the corners of every solar system – passing in front of stars dressed in blue, a blue as cold as a cold blue sapphire; in front of yellow stars, with a fiery blazing fire like that of a passionate love; nor did it ignore the elders, red and with almost extinct flames.
Through its path it created magnificent auroras and icy asteroids, massive black holes and hypnotizing white dwarfs. The spectacle was astonishing, like watching a fireworks show. A little, brave shooting star slipped away from the train.
Vigorous, it started crossing the skies full of childlike innocence, while people pointed at her and asked her wishes.
- Look, a shooting star – said Malcolm, excited, while admiring the jewel he gave to his amorous couple.
- Yes – said Liz, shivering, while shedding a gentle tear.
And the happy couple kissed, with a kiss that seemed to last for all times."
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  #275  
Old 12-24-2012, 02:20 PM
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A bunches of circles and a rectangle is all I see.
My brain seems to take the most complicated entanglements of the mundane dilemmas of the day and de-rope the chaotic mess into its quintessential parts. Reminds me of splitting an atom.
Take for example the field of purple poppies that sway in the wind in front of me. With its bright accented violet; stalky, natural green; and crisp sky it stands in silent profundity. Yet my eyes look over the dazzling array of color, the millions of indescribably minuscule variations between each green stalk of plant life in front of me, the entanglement...
and instead all I see is a bunch of circles moving against a rectangle. Pencil outlines on a notepad. And I like it.

idk WHAT that was...but yeah it took me 10 minutes.
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  #276  
Old 12-24-2012, 07:10 PM
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The strings echo in my left ear, one after the other.
*Pluck pluck*.
The vibes roll along, like a lone raindrop down a stingy cold window. A warm feeling erupts in the man's stomach, bubbling and erupting into his chest, buzzing and vibrating with energy along his shoulders, finally outstretching to the tips of his fingers and boiling into his neck and head, filling the areas with golden warmth.
Puffs of his breathe condense into silky gray view in the air front of his eyes, lingering in balls of cloudy dust, each dust particle bouncing against the other, in its own whizzing path of chaos, along with millions of others like it, bouncing and colliding against each other in a frenzy so haphazard and meaningless they could only take the form of such simplicity once together, because that's how the world works, in these opposites.
*RRRRRRRRrrrRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr NNNNNNNNNNNNNN RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRR *
That was the record player that the guy was listening to scratching.
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  #277  
Old 01-07-2013, 12:58 AM
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Icon9 What's the verdict, guilty or not?

Hands plough through the few hair he has left. His whole body shakes as tears stream down his face. He knows the verdict, he knows what's coming.
He has tried, he knew what he was doing is what he wanted to do. He drove the nail into every single statement, into every single try. Smiling faces with another light in it looked at him. But what is it, what could it be? He hates this world, so unnatural, showing only shadows and lies.
Once again he picked up the charcoal nail. He wonders away from this life of lies, everything becomes different. Pictures of towns, valleys, people with pencil mark faces. Trees planted into the image of a thinker. Beautiful colors and clouds drifting into a makers vision.
What could be more beautiful, what could be more precise. The sculpture chisel an angel from his mind. Why is it then that his mind cannot be?
Why is he scared of the verdict, what makes him so breakable?
Sweat runs down his back as he watches the grim faces, unnatural smiles turned upward, make believe smiles. Vipers slide across the courtroom floor, looking for a spot to strike.
With the eyes of a crow, they look down on his dying body. The dark eyes of a parasite waiting for the right time.
"Guilty!"
No..No.. Why? He believed, he was so sure, the first day he picked up the pencil. He copied down his love, his world of make believe. He wanted to show the courtroom-faces another world where others live. A world manipulated by the pencil of his maker.
Why would the world not see it? Al he wanted was to draw the lines of another world, the world he creeps into when it's quiet. The place where he carves his own.
The face of his first tome carved. The book he laid naked in front of eager faces.
A fire with a volume of flames. His first but also his last. The verdict killed a world, a world so beautiful, a world where all can be changed, a world where the guilty can be unguilty, where trees can be shrubs.
His world, the world that became only his own!
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  #278  
Old 04-07-2013, 11:03 AM
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For once it’s the other way around. The little looks. Fuck. Those are the ones that get me. Fuck. And for once I can sit, and admire the potential of them. Not be the origin of these moments. It’s hard not to give the full looks. The looks that say: I want you and I know you want me and we could just have, what we want. But there is protocol. There is respect. There are feelings, feelings I am privy to. Maybe it’s harder being a friend than I realize. It’s sure is hard right now. Boundaries and such. Either way, there’s something special about unrequited love. The unfulfilled. It’s ground yet to be sewn. Age of thought and youth of moment. Maybe I’m drunk. Maybe I’m imaging the tensions and the wires. And so I wait. I wait for the ball drop, and the flames to collide, and our stars to align, and our resolves to ignite and solve our inhibitions. And I look at my phone and she hasn’t text back. And it’s probably nothing, or it could be everything. Probably nothing.

Last edited by Odonne; 04-07-2013 at 11:18 AM..
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  #279  
Old 04-07-2013, 11:04 AM
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Kal I really like your wrinting style. Less convoluted and relateable for sure.
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  #280  
Old 04-09-2013, 02:48 PM
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2:28n ARcadia time. That's where I live. .




We fall head first, like jets and skyscrapers. You kiss my nose and I'm struck by lightning.

So I'll leave the lights on. It's no secret what's between the sheets. We know how taller skies lead to tales. I know better than to be friends with boys with girlfriends.

I take these pills. They make me slender. I cut my hair and I cut my skin. All is quiet in the yard.

I am frequently in love. If you fill my lust with all you have you feel from something else. It's the longest drive to nowhere.

Christ. I'm only bleeding; that's not dying. My brother slits her teenage wrists. She's fucking him. He's fucking sane.

If they take my hands, will it be to burn or to save Amen. In the disorder, will you be the sound mind? In the disorder, are you still my Cross Sign. When the riots break, will you be the safe plus signs? In the crux I trek, will you be the byline?

I can't tell if they're laughing with or at me. All those hits. Let's join forces. Guns and horse titter. Every fire is those hints learned.

I left my house. left my clothes. Door wide, shutters down. Who knows what will become of you and I.

Inside a street car or on a mountain trail, details details. You breathe when I exhale. From the rusty parks to the icy winds, wwho know s what will become of high tide and trade winds and cries.

You move so fast. Makes me feel lazy.

I write and scramble to connect the dots, but it's a love note to no one but me. I wish I could be it all for you. Come clean to makes sense of everythin. g I'm standing here to see your name in every face. I s ee your face here in the dark.

In the dark, with a downturned facel the car will get us there so you don't linger in the night.

I'm a-wreckin the day. Perched on a citadel with CHrist as companions. I'm quietly quiet out of my head. Desperate and dead to the citadel. I'll hold you close, dear. Rest your burdens. I
ll take care of little boy in manger. I'll take care of the man burning a-bright. I'll care for the broken holes in every palm we all seem to hold. I don't think you know me much at all.



In the cords of crowds, you are the peavce sign.

I'm'm breakingg the balcony. I'm breaking mybones. Who are we to turn each other's heads and find ourselfs in other fpeople's heads.

Who are you to make me feel good? I guess that's hwy I call you God. 2:48.


OH IT JUST TURNED 2:49!!! GREAT FINISH LINE> RAY OF TIME. PERFECT> TOUCH DOWN> TRIUMPH
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  #281  
Old 06-18-2013, 04:36 PM
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She says she'll help me, but first she needs to buy some shoes, and tank tops and a few things. Now when you're shopping every little detail seems important. I'm not sure if I want the blue Chuck Taylors or the green, the Lacost are on sale for less but the Chuck Taylorsmake me look thrifty. When you''re shopping with someone else though it's like "They're shoes, they're all the same just pic one. This is taking forever, I cauld be back home flipping through reality shows looking for Seinfeld.
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  #282  
Old 06-26-2013, 12:52 AM
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The fog burns off early and we know it's going to be a hot day so we make the phone calls round up the crew who's got the inner tubes? You get the beer? How about a keg, nah, we lost it last year.

At the river we blow up the tubes, check 'em for leaks, tie the coolers full of beer to the tubes and away we go, splashing away until the first good rapids then it starts to get serious, I chug what's left of my beer and let the can go need to hold on to the tube OHBOY here we go it's a water ride today spinning around bouncing off the rocks off other tubes there goes somebody hope they can swim here grab them oh shit now there I go.

Underwater which way is up hold on to that motherfucker i hope we make it to the top there we are a breath and then down again which way is up all white no air hit my head on a rock grab that branch look around damn that hurts where's my tube?

There it is way way down the river jump in swim carried along find the line push off from rocks wet and wild what the fuck there's my tube wow it's already ten minutes
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  #283  
Old 08-07-2013, 04:34 PM
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---starting at 7:23 pm local time (personal point of reference)---

Drawing his sword, the aging warrior watches his opponent at the opposite end of the bridge. The other a young man full of the pride and reckless self-confidence that only the inexperienced can claim; has a smile on his face as he holds a pair of daggers in hands spread wide. The older warrior approaches with caution while his adversary charges with that manic grin plastered to his face.

As they clash steel the girl behind the elder of the pair begins screaming at them to stop. The pair ignore her pleas in their furor to determine just who the best really is. What feels like hours is over in just minutes. The younger man staggers back with shock and horror as the older man collapses not from his wounds received in the fight, but from a quarrel lodged between his shoulder blades.

The girl drops the crossbow she had been holding as the deranged look bleeds away from her face as her former lover is running with his daggers thrown to the ground in fear. Before the older man's body could completely fall to the bridge the girl sprouts wings from her back as she takes to the air to pounce on the fleeing young man's shoulders, driving him into the ground.

"We shall eat well tonight, Mistress." The girl whispers to the shadowy figure now crouched over the older gentleman who's armor and weapons are all that now remain to show proof that anything had happened. The young man to soon falls to dust as the younger woman feeds...
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  #284  
Old 11-10-2013, 04:27 PM
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The rear door of the C-130 opened with a hiss. With the wind at 30 knots the metallic hatch sounded like quick pops of aging metal. Bouza felt the cold hit his face without mercy. With his right hand he did a quick check on the four buckles securing his rucksack then took two steps back. A second later he jumped and disappeared into the cold night sky.

This mission was different. At McDill AFB, home of the US Special Operations Command the mission profile had made it all the way to the desk of the admiral. The SpecOps commanders did not want it but some hard-nosed jerks in Washington had called in all favors and pushed and plotted the significance until all the brass on the chain of command had sniffed at it.

It did not stay at the admirals desk for long. High Admiral Jeff Gordorn was at his five year stay at McDill and got a 10 second phone call to green light the mission. The OpOrder made it down to the "COG", and he had put together a team.

The wind whizzed through his earlobes as he thought to himself. "this mission smells like poor intelligence from the tail to the head" but the f#$king CIA Case Officer swore on his mothers grave that the intel was viable.

The first beep chimed on his water-resistant wrist-worn altimeter. A quick look at the LED. The digits read 20,000 feet. He thought of Lisa, his pregnant wife. They had talked about the mission for a whole day but she wanted him to go because he knew his sense of duty would tear him apart if she had discouraged him. He struggled to get memories of his family out of his mind because it would distract him when he hit the LZ. "A distracted grunt is a dead grunt" his jumpmaster used to say at his first year out of jump school. The mind flush was easy now for him. He thought of the smells from his M60 machine gun, then the five times he got shot at a black ops mission in Bosnia. The adrenaline overwhelmed him as all thoughts of family where flushed from his memory. Another chime from his wrist

12,000 feet. At this height the pressure had changed. Bouza felt for the first depressurizer at his left shoulder and pushed the button. He felt as the blood pumping through his limbs eased up. A flushing sound on his visor was the tell that the first depressurization had completed. He had been jumping into high value missions for over 10 years and remembered tales of paratroopers who had been killed by pressure shock for not depressurizing completely. "poor souls" he thought to himself. They f#$%king fell to their deaths.

10,000 feet. He had reached terminal velocity and was no longer accelerating. Bouza could see the tiny lines which where borders of the Chechen village. It was this little detail that caused a big ruckus back at McDill. They where going right into the hornets nest. Dastnya, the small village of mostly farmers was also the backyard of the russian Spetsnaz, an elite unit that paralleled the Delta Force. They conducted off-the books missions just like his outfit. Both units had a rule, you never pissed in the playing ground of your enemy. But the CIA had another idea.

8,000 feet. Bouza saw the small bushes that dotted the farms of the LZ get larger and larger. It was remarkable how they resembled the training grounds at Aberdeen where they practiced runs for cover and concealment. As he got his body ready to pull his shoot he thought he saw the bushes moving. "Could it be?...no" He shook off the possibility but the reality stuck to him like white on rice. The moving bushes where really concealed troops covered heavy in ghilly suits. He thought of the five men jumping with him. 7,000 feet, 6000 feet....800 feet, then his boots hit the ground with a thud.

Two bullets pierced his right foot and he fell to the ground. A shadowy figure towered over him and drove the muzzle of an MP-5 covered in hanging brown grass into his face. "Dauchnya! Dauchnya!" boomed from the mouth of the figure whose face was completely blackened except for the two blinking spots that made up his eyes.

"Dauchnya!". The russian troop shoved the MP-5 directly into his temple. The other members of the hidden company had started to quickly surround his men. Bouza did not need a translator to tell him what the word meant. They all spoke fluent russian. He put up both arms in a cold surrender.
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  #285  
Old 12-12-2013, 08:07 AM
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Free form writing exercise 10 minutes here goes nothing:

When I was in second grade when we took a trip to the Museum of Natural Science. I was very much in love with Indiana Jones at the time and was convinced that I would be a great damsel in distress if given the opportunity. The smell of the museum struck me first when we walked through those large glass doors. What is that smell that all museums seem to have? It defies description so I won't even try I'll just say that I had a nose like a bloodhound so much of my earlier childhood memories revolve around smells. I was fascinated by the displays of early man and as I gazed upon their wax faces my mind spun stories about how they lived, where they lived, and in my mind they fell in love and conquered fear to spread across the land bridge. I wasn't ready to move on to another display but the tour guide was urging us on in her bored "please kill me now" voice. The next display we came to featured dinosaur fossils and there in the middle of tallest ceiling I'd ever seen was a full size replica of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was huge and I felt tiny standing next to it. I heard the tour guide droning on about the era this mammoth came from but my mind rejected this explanation. I asked questions, Lots of questions and she didn't appreciate a one of them. I left that day with a burning in my mind and my heart and soul to KNOW. From that day through the my first college dig I wanted to be an archaeologist only to find one day that what I actually wanted to be was a story teller of the past.
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  #286  
Old 12-15-2013, 08:14 AM
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My friend Michelle literally went insane because of meth. She thinks she's a prophet. She went to the hospital and they sent her home because she didn't "feel like going to an insane asylum".

I don't know how to deal. Fucked up shit. Meanwhile, I'm in love.
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  #287  
Old 12-19-2013, 02:20 AM
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I can get over excited about a ten minutes task especially when knowing one has to do it without being held by any other exterior thoughts.
it is a bit like trying to stop the light to enter the room nearing five am to try and wake you up. summer time early morning are really light and I wish my writing was as light. I would imagine it would make for a warmer smile just like the sun peering above the seas urging bather splash some water to keep them cool.
what a feeling simply beautiful.
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  #288  
Old 12-23-2013, 08:46 AM
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I partly drove my lesbian friend home last night. I say "partly" for a reason.

She tried to reach for my chest while I was making a u-turn... and I freaked out. She said sorry, I just wanted you to know I am attracted to you. How does that make you feel? she asked me.

I'm fucking straight, I said, and get out of my car. She tried to act cute but before I drove the fck away, she started crying. I think I overreacted, but the whole thing was sureal. We were only about 5 minutes from her house, but still... I feel like a jerk just thinking about it now.
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  #289  
Old 01-02-2014, 12:24 PM
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Torn Banners in Compassion’s Field
9/23/13

Synaptic prolapse of human element,
Un-developed mindsets stewing in
Hypocritical hotbeds.

Deaf to the far off cries
Uttered by their own souls

Seeking sedentary solutions
To moral and physical challenge.

Polluted mindsets,
il-regret of burnt bridges,

Fetid myco’s,
The carriers of tribulated dream,
And nightmarish chaos.

Collective numbness,
Collective blindness,

Selective extinction of
Societies…

Passions of the heart
On life support,

Compassion, fashioned on a torn banner,
Ragged and bloody,

Yet on some fields,
it still waves
gloriously.

Let this Breeze renew itself,
And spread once again
Throughout the vestiges of all men.

Let there be a glorious breeze to tatter and sway
The hearts and minds of a violent race.
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  #290  
Old 04-26-2014, 05:48 PM
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10 Minutes, huh? Here goes...

I feel empty inside. It's not an exaggeration to say that Birdie gave me purpose. She was always chipper, so ready for anything. Sure, she wasn't the smartest girl on the planet, but she was an optimist through and through.


She was also lonely in a way that broke my heart. She never wanted for anything - she ate well, had a stable, safe home environment, and any material comfort she desired was provided for her. Money was never a concern for Birdie. But no one ever really got her.


People doted on her, constantly telling her she was pretty, which may well have gone to someone else's head, but not hers. Birdie suffered from low self-esteem. I used to listen as she gave herself pep-talks in the mirror. Telling herself she was worth it -- she really was pretty. She would sit there, preening and primping, batting her eyes at her reflection, spending hours practicing her "come hither" look, working it from every angle until she was satisfied in its flawlessness. The poor thing. All she ever wanted was a man.


No one really understood her - not the real her anyway. I would watch as she tried to talk to people, as she strained to make them understand. She spoke in muted warbles, cocking her head to the side; and she tried squawking and shouting, flinging her arms to the side, but to no avail. They only heard what they wanted to. They just smiled and said, "Pretty Birdie."
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  #291  
Old 07-24-2014, 11:11 AM
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Default Haha. I like this idea. 10 Minutes is around my concentration limit anyway

Hello there, children There must be some way for you to grow into big children, without picking up all the stored vices of our society. Maybe we can put you in an igloo. With nothing but a bunch of Latin books, and let you figure yourself out for yourself, sans the toxic influence of our environment. I for one favor such an approach. Christians say we are born into sin. I agree, the only thing I'd add is that we are born into sin; that is to say the sin comes from outside us, not within us. Lock a child up with positive thoughts until he/she is an adult. I would love for a program like this to be introduced. I would vote for it. If I could be the Kaiser, then this would be my will. People never agree with me when I opine this at parties. "You're fucking crazy!", they say. Or "what are you, an idiot?". These protestations roll right off my back. Because I know in my heart than I exist on a higher plane of thought than the benighted rabble that I suffer among. I have always known this. It is the tragedy of all great spirits that they must live around humans. And the even larger tragedy is that there is no heaven. A god in a godless cosmology. I suffer on, noble.
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Old 07-24-2014, 01:22 PM
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If I could to go on a holiday, to anywhere I wanted, with all expenses paid, and a bankroll so big I'd need a suitcase to carry it all in, I have no idea where I would go. Perhaps I would go to Jerusalem and visit the place where Jesus was born. Try to learn some Aramaic, and hopefully glean some hermeneutical insights from these people whose history still casts its light from 2000 years ago. Or perhaps I would go to Japan. See what they think of all us atomic bomb droppers. Or perhaps I would go to South America. Or Madrid. There are so many places to go. Perhaps I would go to Africa and give out large wads of cash to the starving people and wait for it to be stolen off them by the ruling tribes. Maybe I could go to Berlin and go on a massive whore binge. I could have sex with a different high-end prostitute every night of the week for 3 months straight. I wonder what kind of damage that would do to me; not just in terms of STD's, but spiritually as well. I don't think it would make me feel better. Maybe I could go to Nevada and gamble until I was either filthy rich or dirt poor. I wonder if whatever I did would make me any different than what I am now.
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Old 10-09-2014, 05:29 AM
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“My Life after 20 years”

Today life is made comfortable and easy because of the modern technology. Modern lifestyle is being practiced or the people are adapting on the era now. My life would be cool after 20 years maybe because of the technology. Well my course that I’m trying finish is Computer Engineering, I picked this particular course because I actually based it of what our world will be after years and years of research and updating the knowledge we have about technology. What would the world be after 20 years? It could be possible that computers, robots and other modern technologies might take over how human life runs.
I think schools will only teach topics about computers and technology and how they work. It could be possible that “robots” will actually be a useful machine. They could replace the nurses and doctors for more accurate operations like organ transplant. Humans will no longer work on farms. Humans will only work in researching about how to upgrade machines every gadget. Technology would have been extraordinary nowadays if every human were just studying about machines, computers. Many Satellites would have been launched to outer space. We could have found planets that have the same characteristics of our planet. Diseases could have been spotted quickly with just scanners and treat them using machines and robots. Cars will not be travelling on roads but will be flying. Two decades from now if I graduate with the course of computer engineering, I would love to work in NASA. I love researching. Even thou I’m weak in science and all those elements and whatsoever, but you can’t invent something without science. What I know about computer engineers is that they invent or make something that would help our economy. I want to invent something that no one has believed that it can be made or done. I would just be sitting and researching or just trying to invent something. I will no longer travel and just work at home. Robots will be used as maids and serve humans. Life will be easy and great. Well that would be my vision of my life after 20 years.
Well now technology is the word that we will often encounter throughout our lives. This would be the sign that we are on the modern type of lifestyle. So sad that people born on the 90’s won’t experience the life that we will have after 20 year from now.
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Old 10-10-2014, 02:41 AM
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Are there guidelines on how to do this somewhere on this site? Is it just write anything in ten minutes and then edit it?
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Old 10-17-2014, 06:49 AM
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Use my thing, it's easy! http://l0n4r.site88.net/10-min-challenge/
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Old 10-17-2014, 07:06 AM
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And there you were with blond hair, somewhere, looking happy. I wish I was with you but we made that decision long ago. Still I wonder who you sleep with and how you sleep, and if maybe sometimes, with a thought to spare, you think to think of me. Because I think of you. When I'm alone I wonder where you are sleeping and who you are loving. And is that river still there? Where we used to go sit and smoke and talk about my brother that I never met. And you would tell me about how you are "fat", a ridiculous notion but I could't dissuade you. Whoever could dissuade you, what a hero that god was. Maybe I'll see you again. That river still runs I'm sure.
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Old 01-03-2015, 07:10 AM
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(Is it cheating if it's a scene from my book that I haven't actually written yet, but still know a sort of one-line plot synopsis of the scene? Eh, I'll do it anyway but change the names to avoid spoilers.)

Start: 1:00 am

Jennifer had no clue what was going on as she walked into the meeting room. She had never seen Cory looking so nervous, but Sammy seemed so happy that it couldn't be bad news. The whole thing had her very confused.
"Hey Cory, you wanted to see me?" she asked, and he nodded, going pale.
This is so... weird.
"J-Jenny," Cory chocked out, getting down on his knees. "I wanted to ask- no, I mean, could you... Uh would you do me the honour of... maybe... marrying me?"
Jennifer rushed over to him, giving him the biggest hug she had ever given anyone. "Took you long enough." She whispered in his ear, taking the ring. They both stood, dazed and wondering what to do, when suddenly a strange sense of breathlessness hit her. Was it a delayed reaction to the proposal? No, Cory looked shocked, angry, sad. Not the proposal then. But what? Jennifer glanced down to see the stained metal of a familiar sword poking through her torso.
Oh. That's what's wrong.

End: 1:08 am
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  #298  
Old 07-23-2015, 07:13 PM
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Default 10 minute writing exercise

I like this idea, but am wondering...did you write these shorts off line and then edited them before you put them up? Or, did you write them straight to a new post online, edit them online all in 10 minutes and then post them?

I think I'm a bit nervous to do it all online, but just wonder how it's being done. I don't mean to be a stickler for details, but also don't want to feel like I'm cheating if I do this off line and cut/paste unless this is how everyone does it.

Last edited by gerrielynn; 07-23-2015 at 07:15 PM.. Reason: hoping to make my questions make more sense!
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Old 07-23-2015, 07:33 PM
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Okay, I'm trying this straight onto the thread...

Getting old is the pits! I find myself looking at the weather daily, checking the weather report for my home town and writing to my sister about her weather verses my weather. It seems that all my friends are going through such terrible hardships.

I visited with my Life Group leader this evening in the hospital. He has MS and and is getting worse. Such a fine, intelligent man. I hate this for him. I hate this for all of us in his class.

My "forever friend" has spent the last week with her sister, Pat, who is in Intensive Care in a nearby hospital. Pat had a massive stroke last Sunday while sitting at the table eating at a friend's house, and she has been on life support ever since. It was sudden and she was not even 60 yet. Today my friend and her sisters discussed when to take her off the life support. Earlier in the week, the hospital priest told my friend that God is working in ways we may never know and that even though God knows and cares about what Pat is going through, it all this that is going on with Pat is, "not only about Pat," and that God is working things out in many directions and for many people. This makes sense to me.

I think that when it is my time to go, or when something major happens to me, I will hold onto that thought. Instead of blaming God, I will remember that, "it's not only about me!" Perhaps there is someone else who will benefit from my illness or death, from Pat's illness or death or from my Life Group leader's illness.
I think I can go through anything if I believe it is going to help another human being along the way. But, we never know, do we? I suppose it is not for us to know, and even if we did know...would we be happy about it? Or, would we busy ourselves trying to change situations that only God can change?
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