Topic ID: 21694
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Sam
punctuated by philosophy
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 Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2007 6:37 am Post subject: |
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*high fives BBB*
Ooer, I think this is the worst pun I have ever written, although unintentional XD:
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“Let me get this straight-“
“I’m…gay, Dad.” |
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logosgal
Still can't get the hang of Thursdays
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| Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2007 8:14 am Post subject: |
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| “It was so weird. I can’t remember all of it now, though. I was sitting in the woods, and then I heard this roar behind me, like a bear or a lion or something. so I started running. then I came to this cliff, so I turned around, and there was Mrs. Grummel standing there telling me that I had to finish my three hundred and fifty seven paragraph expository essay on the metaphysics of the platitudes of Gregory forsyth, Jr. the Third the Younger, of the Ancient Mayans of the Himalayan Plateau and their use and interpritation in the late neo-Roman Classical era in the early fourteen seventies. So I said, ‘what three hundred and fifty seven paragraph expository essay on the metaphysics of the platitudes of Gregory forsyth, Jr. the Third the Younger, of the Ancient Mayans of the Himalayan Plateau and their use and interpritation in the late neo-Roman Classical era in the early fourteen seventies?’ And she said, ‘the three hundred and fifty seven paragraph expository essay on the metaphysics of the platitudes of Gregory forsyth, Jr. the Third the Younger, of the Ancient Mayans of the Himalayan Plateau and their use and interpritation in the late neo-Roman Classical era in the early fourteen seventies that is due in five minutes and counts for ninety three point five seven six three percent of your grade, on which you must get at least fifteen hundred and forty three percent if you wish to graduate the seventh grade at the same time as all of your friends and peers.’ Then I told her that I had already graduated from the seventh grade at the same time as all of my friends and peers, as well as graduating the eighth grade at eht smae time as all of my friends and peers, and the nineth grade, too, for that matter, so I didn’t really see the urgency, you know? And she said, ‘Right, as if I have niot heard that excuse about fifty seven hundred thousand times before. Get to work.’ then she handed me the stub of an ‘ultra light peach plae flesh’ Crayola crayon and a coloring book page that was already colored. So I took the ‘ultra light peach plae flesh’ Crayola crayon and the coloring book page that was already colored, and I started walking to the Himalayan Plateau to do my research, because I didn’t know anything at all about the metaphysics of the platitudes of Gregory forsyth, Jr. the Third the Younger, of the Ancient Mayans of the Himalayan Plateau and their use and interpritation in the late neo-Roman Classical era in the early fourteen seventies, and I figured that the best way to find out would be to go there and find out myself. So I started walking to the Himalayan Plateau, but before I got there, my mom came out from behind an elderberry bush full of kippers, and I asked her what it was all over that bush, and she said that they were kippers, so I said, ‘oh, well that explains why it says it’s fullj of kippers.’ She agreed. then three giant purple polar bears appeared out of nowhere and started singing ‘we Three Kings’ with teally great harmony, but they got stuck after the first chorus, because no one ever sings that song after that point, and they didn’t know the words. I asked them why they sere singing that song anyway, since it was the middle of summer and they weren’t even three kings anyway, they were three giant purple polar bears. they agreed that I had a good point, so they started singing “Ninety Nine Bottles of Coke,” instead. So I yelled ‘OH MY GOSH, NOOO! NOT NINETY NINE BOTTLES OF COKE! ANYTHING BUT NINETY NINE BOTTLES OF COKE!!!’ at the top of my lungs. so they stopped singing ‘Ninety Nine Bottles of Coke,’ and started singing ‘One Hundred and One Bottles of Sprite,’ which has the same tune. Then I ran to Seattle, Washington, and I wanted to see the Space Needle, so this Indian man from India came up to me and said that he could show me all the sights, so I said ‘sure, that sounds good,’ and he took me to the statue of Liberty, and we could see Norway from the top. and I asked him what the Statue of Liberyt was doing in Seattle, and he said that they had it on temporary loan from the New York City, New York Department of Underhandedness, Chalcedony, Kippers, and Statues, otherwise known as the New York City, New York DUCKS. So I said, ‘well, yes I suppose that makes sense; a City’s Department of Underhandedness, Chalcedony, Kippers, and Statues, would be in charge of the Statue of Liberty if it was in their city, seeing as it is a statue and all.’ Then we went to the St. Louis Arch, and I asked what that was doing in Seattle, and he said, ‘oh, we’re not in Seattle anymore. We’ve traveled through a pan-dimensional wormhole, which has brought us here to St. Louis. I promised to take you to see the sights, and you can’t see the sights without seeing the St. Louis Arch.’ So we went up to the top of the St. Louis Arch, only the elevators were out, so we had to walk up the stairs, and somehow we ended up on the top on the outside of the St. Louis Arch, instead of being on the top on the inside of the St. Louis Arch, only the guy said that that was okya, because you could see everything much better on the outside anyway. Then Christina Aguilera came up in a police uniform and told us we had to come down, so we did, and Christina disapeared, amd then...” Curt hesitated. “I don’t remember what happened next. After a while I ended up in Bangkok with a giant green chicken on my head, and then I woke up.” |
Exactly 1,000 words of utter randomness, complete with all the original typos, right in the middle of my novel. XD
I am so proud.  |
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AWritersFantasy
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| Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 5:43 am Post subject: |
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I'll try to explain this scene the best I can...but it's really hard to do without reading everything I've written so far. o.O
This conversation happens just after Cesarina receives a letter from Queen Kelesana, who's an old friend of Cesarina. Cesarina is basically an outcast who was branded with what's called the Weaver's Burn. Basically it means that as long as that brand is on her skin, she can't use magic without a huge wave of pain (think of electric shocks, only without electricity) going through her body. The parts I'm mainly pointing out are in bold.
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“Why should I help her?” Cesarina asked out loud. “Why, after all this time, is she bothering to contact me?”
“Because you know what she’s saying is true. This new heir cannot possibly attempt to take the throne without your help,” replied the raspy voice of a male.
With a gasp, Cesarina turned toward the door of her cabin where she saw the figure of a wolf sitting on his hind legs there. The wolf had a grey outline around his body, and the color of his fur was an unnatural white.
“Howler,” Cesarina said in surprise. “How . . . how did you know I was here?”
“I followed your scent, of course,” came his reply. “Besides, I saw Kelesana’s messenger bird fly here to deliver that letter. And before you ask how I knew what was in her letter, just know that news travels quickly, and leave it at that.”
Cesarina snorted, “I should have known.”
“Well? What’s your decision?”
“Why do you care so much?” Cesarina replied grouchily.
“Because I’m going to escort you to the palace if you go, that’s why,” Howler replied. “You always were too stubborn for your own good.”
“I think you’re mixing me up with Kelesana.”
“No, it’s no mix up,” he replied with a wolfish smile.
Cesarina frowned at the wolf before turning away and walking to the window. “I don’t know if I’m going,” she said. “I went to this . . . Seer a week ago, in the nearby town. She told my fortune, and . . . she tested me to see if I had any magic abilities, because as far as she knew, I didn’t have any. But because of the test, I felt the magic she was using to do the test. And it felt so good . . . but I was so scared, because . . . because . . .”
“Because of the Burn,” Howler finished understandingly. “It is a difficult burden to bare when one knows the truth behind a misunderstanding that happened so long ago, and you feel like there is nothing you can do to fix it.”
“There isn’t anything I can do to fix it. It’s been too long . . . and I would never be able to prove anything.”
“You don’t think helping this heir would fix it?” asked Howler. “Say you did go to help this heir. You’d protect her; bring her to Osarris, and watch, as she became queen. In return, what would you ask for? What would you want the most? Would you ask Kelesana to free you from the Burn, so that you could go back to living in Castevon and not in seclusion for the rest of your life?”
Cesarina considered the wolf’s questions. Would Kelesana and the Council grant her freedom after all these years, without proof of her innocence? Would they be willing to free her if she were to help the heir?
“You’re right,” she said after a moment. “My protecting their precious heir should be more than enough to set me free.” She turned her head to one side for the moment, looking at him. “Why are you on my side all of a sudden?”
“I do not take sides, Cesarina. I merely just want to see things go back to the way they were supposed to be, and I believe this will help that.”
“For a wolf, your loyalty is rather . . . different,” said Cesarina.
“Yes, well. Being trapped in the Spirit Lands for so long like I was can change things,” Howler replied.
Cesarina narrowed her gaze to the floor. “Things are really that bad?”
“Some days are worse than others . . . but for humans, I expect it to be much worse,” Howler replied. “Vanaitus has grown stronger, more powerful, and has more allies than he did in the beginning years.”
Cesarina looked back up, and after another moment she walked over to a small pile of her belongings, bending over it as she searched for something. After pushing things out of the pile, she stopped searching and pulled a long, wooden box out of it, laying it in both hands. She stood back up and walked back over to Howler.
“Your old sword,” Howler observed. “I’m surprised you kept it.”
“It’s not something that I could give up,” she replied. “They can take my magic away, but they couldn’t have taken this if they’d tried.”
She opened the box, using one hand to hold it while the other picked the heavy sword up. After she placed the box on the ground, she held the handle with two hands, turning it slowly between them, then lowered it and looked at Howler.
“All right. Let’s go back to Castevon.”
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Dreamer
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| Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 10:22 am Post subject: |
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My NaNo somehow morphed into a collection of college homework and scenes for my original story.
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| Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman and Edward Albee's The Sandbox both demonstrate, through the use of nonrealism and absurdity, the idea that steadfastly following the institutionalized conventions as set forth by society leads to a shallow existence where any instances of happiness are merely an illusion. |
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| Misia Landau makes an interesting comparison between the hero's journey of myth and explorations in science. She creates a parallel between the two in describing the process, and she reasons that, since science cannot get away from the narrative, it might consider making use of it. |
And finally, a story excerpt form 3am:
(Spoiled for mild language)
Click here to see the hidden message (It might contain spoilers)
"Our dialogue. What we say. Our poor writer has writer's block and is making us say pointless things that don't matter and it-"
Suddenly something fat and pink swooped down between them and soared over the other side of the hill. In and instant Shran and Lyris were up and armed, cannons at the ready.
"What the hell was that?" Shran demanded, trying to see over the other side and another hill.
Lyris squinted.
"I- I think it was a… a flying pig!"
The pink speck appeared in the distance again and began growing as it came closer.
"It's coming closer!"
"I know that! That's what the writer just said!"
"What?"
"Shran! Duck!"
"It's a pig!" At that moment the fat pink thing crashed into Shran with a squeal, knocking him flat.
*bows* |
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logosgal
Still can't get the hang of Thursdays
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| Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 3:43 am Post subject: |
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Love the flying pig thing, Dreamer!  |
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