Duck and Cover

i wrote a story about a nervous man named ronald who lives with a bunch of other nervous people in a box in outer space, would anyone like to read it

Yes

Dreadnaught I liked your poem I think. How are you at bullshitting literary critique, can we say it's really about socialism or something?

weee Susie is back!

Blargh wrote:I write for both amusement and filthy, filthy lucre.

Blargh is an esteemed Australian author of romantic suspense novels who frequents DAC to unburden his lyrical 'other side'. FACT.

How you uh, how you comin' on that novel you're working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice litte story you're working on there? Your big novel you've been working on for 3 years? Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there? Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? Yea, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends? At the end your main character is richer from the experience? Yeah? Yeah? No, no, you deserve some time off.

Oh I know it hurts now Brian, but look at the bright side: you have some new material for that novel you've been writing. You know...the novel you've been workin' on? You know the the one, uh, you've been workin on for three years? You know the novel. Got somethin' new to write about now. You know? Maybe a, maybe a main character gets into a relationship and suffers a little heartbreak? Somethin' like what... what you've just been through? Draw from real life experience? Little, little heartbreak? You know? Work it into the story? Make the characters a little more three dimensional? Little, uh, richer experience for the reader? Make those second hundred pages really keep the reader guessing what's going to happen? Some twists and turns? A little epilogue? Everybody learns that the hero's journey isn't always a happy one? Oh, I look forward to reading it.

I like writing short stories, just never get around to doing it. I will have to though in my creative writing class and you guys will be the first to read them. Aren't you lucky?

We are born, and we suffer untill we go;
We live till we die, and that's all we know,
Neither what the purpose nor whose the game
To makes us break us with the pain and shame.
We are brought to a board where there's all we
wish-
But the cook's gone mad and has fouled each
dish:
We can plan and make; we can think and do-
But the prize is a husk, worm-eaten too;
Our minds are a marvel, as all agree,
And our bodies as well , but the two don't gee
So they live in a permanent tug of war,
To each the other a scab and a bore;
And we have two sexes, fashioned to mate
In the flesh so well, but spirits hate,
So the joy of a body is no part
Of a gangrenous blight. yet we plant the seed
For the force of our lust and callously breed
A brood to inherit our rotten lot
And to scorn and hate us, as why should they
not
When we act the lunatic Judas goat
For the miserable get on whom we dote;
Though they are as silly and warped as we,
As doomed to despair and futility,
As bound to be robbed of whatever they crave,
As lucky in finally finding a grave.
But we blather to them what was blithered to us
And babble our praise of the barbarous,
So that in turn can swindle their kith
With a pitiful, sniveling , coward's myth
Of the wisdom and plan behind it all.
"Sing praise and let the hosannas fall!"
Is the constant bellow of dupe to dupe,
The idiot maundering of the group,
All bleating their fables in coined belief-
But leave an adult to his knowledge and grief.

I CAN, HERE YOU SAY NOTHING wrote:Australian

Place of unexistence only. The rest ?

vASIKKa is a 40ft Parkinson's Disease afflicted teapot, formed predominantly of kiln hardened Chou pastry with a mucus heavy spittle glaze, who employs a menagerie of mute, masked, fanatically loyal, lurid spandex clad midget proxies for duties made difficult and/or inconvenient by an uncaring world built for a different scale. FACT.

Blargh wrote:

I CAN, HERE YOU SAY NOTHING wrote:Australian

Place of unexistence only. The rest ?

vASIKKa is a 40ft Parkinson's Disease afflicted teapot, formed predominantly of kiln hardened Chou pastry with a mucus heavy spittle glaze, who employs a menagerie of mute, masked, fanatically loyal, lurid spandex clad midget proxies for duties made difficult and/or inconvenient by an uncaring world built for a different scale. FACT.

Blargh wrote:vASIKKa is a 40ft Parkinson's Disease afflicted teapot, formed predominantly of kiln hardened Chou pastry with a mucus heavy spittle glaze, who employs a menagerie of mute, masked, fanatically loyal, lurid spandex clad midget proxies for duties made difficult and/or inconvenient by an uncaring world built for a different scale. FACT.

I'm also a promising mexican wrestler.

Remiss of me to not mention that vASIKKa indulges an on-again, off-again career as a luchador, whose penchant for forming masks from the facial tissue of vanquished and humiliated foes has contributed to a measure of infamy. Central issue that it is, scale necessitates each mask be made from between seventeen and twenty lesser instances of edible crockery, as vASIKKa has a remarkably (some might say freakishly, if the term were not redundant) small face. FACT.

Blargh wrote:vASIKKa is a 40ft Parkinson's Disease afflicted teapot, formed predominantly of kiln hardened Chou pastry with a mucus heavy spittle glaze, who employs a menagerie of mute, masked, fanatically loyal, lurid spandex clad midget proxies for duties made difficult and/or inconvenient by an uncaring world built for a different scale. FACT.

Best quote ever...

Nah, the same pseudo-abstract confabulated psychosis... as usually.

prais my writings you peons!