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Comments

hot.

cold.

a night in the winter.
warm sheets; cold air.
i see the frost, i see the snow,
i see the snowflakes come and go.
i look outside without a care.
because to tell you the truth,
i like summer better.

warm?

chilly?
a cold breeze against my back.
where did it come from;
where did it go?
is the world so chilly?
does anyone care;
does anyone know
why does the wind decides to blow?

my eyes!

"My eyes!" He staggered backwards, clutching at his face. But it wasn't a face anymore; it was a mass of melting flesh. The intense heat from the flames removed his features one by one. First his eyes, then his nose, and then his cheeks. The small of burnt skin filled his nostrils. He couldn't fight the flames; they swallowed him whole.

It was then that Henry woke up. He was sweating.
"What the fuck..." Henry thought to himself. He slowly peeled himself up from bed.
"Fuck that." Henry flopped back down on his mattress, and turned his head to look at his digital clock. 9:30 AM. "Shit."

Henry continued to spout his usual vocabulary of vulgarities as he jumped into his work clothes and stuffed his face with a handful of Corn Flakes. He had just gotten a job at the Eat N' Go near his house. He was running an hour late.

"Damn, damn, damn!"

Say wha? (i ment to say "say wha" not say what)

"Say wha?" I wasn't really in shock, though. I was grinning.
"I've told you already. It's say what. What! There's a "T" at the end, do you hear me?" Ah, the reaction I was waiting for.
"Say wha? You wan' 'oo say some-in'?"
"Ugh, I hate you." Victory was mine; I successfully annoyed my sister again.

We continued to walk together; it was something we always did. My sister is two years older than me, so she's going to community college. She's smart enough to go to any college in the country, but we're not exactly rich, or anywhere close to it. My dad says college is only for rich elitist folk anyway, so it was hard enough to go anywhere. Don't make me talk about those arguments she had with him.

"So, are you excited...??" I teased. My sister was always the serious straight-laced kid. She wants to be a layer. My dad hates her.
"No, not really. It's only the first day; there's nothing to be scared of."
"Oh."
"What's wrong?" My terse reply concerned her. She thinks I'm still a little kid.
"Nothing, nothing. I was just hoping you'd be worried, that's all. It'd be more fun."
"Sorry, I'm not very fun this early in the morning." She was never fun at any time of the day, but I didn't say anything.

greasy throbbing

jazz

"Hmm."
A furrowed brow for a reading's initiation,
belabored with the oddity of this dissertation,
resurrected by the storyline's culmination,
dissected the author's writing for motivation.

Could these shorts be writing improvement's tool?
Would the author agree they were written at school?
Should I share which I thought were and weren't cool?
... I hated the first and really enjoyed the last.

(_(_)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!D ~ (oYo)

Holy! There is WAAAAAY!!!!! to much info there

You should write a play.

Call it 'Waiting For Bodot'.

i didnt read all of them only the first one and......IT MADE MY BRAIN HURT!!!=[

In that case... I suggest you not read The Sound and the Fury any time soon. I'm reading it for English right now and woahhhh.

May I be the first to state TL:DR!

DEEP

I'm too stupid to comprehend this. I give up.

funny stuff & nice banner btw :DDD

My favorites were the second and the third.

Keep going, these are wonderful.

MAH GATLING GUN IZ ILLIN

Ohh my, your a very unique person why must I ask?

TL;DR

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Latest News

A Conflagration of Inspiration!
Posted by absent
Sep. 25, 2008 @ 7:32 PM EDT

[Edit 2/2/09: I am alive!]

Are you sure?
Yes, I'm sure!
I'm not sure if you're sure.
Well, that's to be expected.
And WHY is that?
Because YOU'RE not sure.
What does that have to do with it?
If you're not sure, then you assume I'm not sure.
I don't believe you.
You should.
I don't.
Start.
No.
Now.
I don't want to.
You should want to.
You're repeating what I say.
On the contrary, you are.
No, I am most certainly not.
Yes, you most certainly are.
See! Just there, you did it again.
Excuse me? I see no place like that.
Feigning ignorance are we? How lame.
Lame? What kind of a response is that?
What's wrong with 'lame'?
It's not a good word.
Yes it is.
No, it's not.
YES, it is.
NO, it's not.
I suppose we just disagree, then.
I'll agree with that.
Don't try to be smart here.
I'm not.
Yes you are.
I can't.
You can't?
No, I'm over there.
You're not funny.
Yes I am.
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
Who's there?
Who is entering this conversation?
It is I!
Who are you?
The person you have been waiting for.
We've been waiting for you?
We have?
Yes! Hello, my friends!
Who ARE you?
Yes, who?
Why, I am everyone and no one. A walking paradox. A representation of our fondest ideologies.
You don't make much sense.
No, you really don't. Go away, please.
I shall not leave! Not until I receive my answer!
Your answer?
What are you talking about?
I request an answer to a question.
I don't want to hear it.
I'll hear it.
Why do you want to hear his question?
Why not?
Ok, fine. What's the question?
I'm glad you asked! Your question shall yield a question.
Go on.
Yes, go on already!
The question is, what does it mean to exist?
That's it?
That's the question?
Yes, my friends! That is the question.
You mean, "To be or not to be"? Wasn't THAT the question?
No, little one! My question does not ask whether existence is important, but rather what creates it!
I don't like the question.
Me neither.
Can you give us a different question?
One that is more simple?
Don't be silly! My question shall not change. Now, answer it!
Well, I suppose...
Hey, don't answer him!
Why not?
Because, his question is lame.
There's that word again.
But it is! I don't want to answer.
Are you prepared to answer my question yet?
No, not yet, sir!
Not yet!
Take your time! Exist, so that you may realize what existence is.
This guy is lame, see? Him AND his question.
I see what you mean. So, what do we do?
Let's say something random.
Random?
Yes, something random. He'll accept it anyway.
And then he'll go away!
Yes, exactly!
What a smart idea, brother. What are you going to say?
Just wait and see.
Certainly.
Excuse me sir, but we are now prepared to answer your question!
Ah, excellent! Existence is but the fleeting passage of time after all.
Right...
So, what are you prepared to say? How will you answer my question, 'what does it mean to exist?'
Simple. To exist is to have physical property. There, I am finished.
That is your full answer?
Yes.
And his as well?
Oh, yes, it is mine as well. We answered together.
We are brothers, after all.
How sweet, this brotherly love. Since you have given an answer, I will now evaluate it!
Hey, wait a minute!
You're supposed to leave! We have no more time for you.
But what is time? How can you measure it? How can you even prove time exists?
What are you talking about? Of course there is time.
Time runs our society! Everything is based on time.
But, my friends, time is not physical! Time can not be felt in your hand. How, then, does it exist according to your very definition?
Brother, what do we say? I'm not interested in him or his babbling.
I know, I know--I'll think of something.
Good, please hurry.
Sir, you're going to have to leave. I do not want to resort to violence.
Violence? Does violence exist? Violence is merely a general term! It is not physical; it doesn't exist!
You're annoying.
Very annoying.
Stupendously annoying.
Please, stop being so annoying.
Annoying? But how can I be annoying? What is 'annoying'? How can annoying exist? How--
Is he gone, brother?
Yes, he's gone.
You got rid of him?
Yes.
Good.
I know.
He was rather annoying.
Yes, he was rather annoying.
I don't like thinking.
No one likes thinking.
No one?
Yes.
But he did.
No, he was nothing but a charlatan.
And he's gone?
He's gone.
Let us be sure.
I am sure.
It is good to be sure.
It is indeed.
I do not want to be unsure, brother.
Do not worry. I am sure.

-------------------
9/27
-------------------

Bob is an average man. No, he is the average man. He's 48, balding, has a dead end job at some kind of faceless technology-based corporation, and lives with his wife and two children in a small cramped apartment on the other side of town. Does bob have any dreams and ambitions? Sure he does. He wants a raise, first and foremost, and he wants to move into a nice white picket fence house before he retires. He wants to live out the cliché called the "American dream."

"Bob," I said, "Tell me about yourself. Why do you want a raise? What makes you so deserving?"
"You know, I've been working as a computer programmer here for the last 23 years. I think I deserve a little kick back. Every day I come in at 8:52. Every day! Every day I see people move up, get raises, and become managers and directors! Why can't I get a piece of the action?" Bob replied, fidgeting in his chair.
"You tell me, Bob. Do you have low self-esteem? How was your childhood? Are you bad with office politics?"
"Oh, don't get me started on those office politics. I can't stand it. It's all rumors and chatter, and people stealing ideas left and right. I try to be honest around everyone, but then it all backfires! My parents raised me to be an upstanding person. I follow my Christian values; I go to church every Sunday. My kids go to church every Sunday and get a good Christian education. And yet, what does it amount to? I feel like I'm falling apart here!"
"Good, good. This is good. Tell me more. I want to get into your head Bob. I want all the details you can tell me."
"You're sick, you know that? Just like Charlie Woodworth. The damn weasel. He slaps me on the back like he's my friend. I know his type. He's some young atheist slicker who does everything for himself. I bet he gets promoted before me. I just see it happening."
"Alright, Bob. Let's get back to you. What makes you special? What makes you unique? I'm hearing a whole lot about how you've got a cliché life with cliché problems that everyone else runs into. Why should I care?"
"Why should you care? Listen, my story might not SOUND too special, but that's just the point. I'm not some adventure hero out in the jungle; I'm just somebody trying to make ends meat! My wife doesn't have a job so I need to provide for my family. How am I not important? How am I not interesting?"
"Don't get mad, Bob. I'm only here to understand. So, what part of your life do you want me to

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