4

Publish it here.
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Rat Bag
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Location: South

4

Post by Rat Bag » March 28th, 2006, 9:34 am

Writing feels so futile right now. What, with the twenty-twelve prophesies and personal premonitions, realisations and insights, could be the point? I mean, I could be cleaning the house or drinking smooth ale at the Never Say Die. I could be marking work and completing half-term reports. I could be in Yorkshire, travelling the ancient route from the Addingham Moor Doubler Stones to the Twelve Apostles rock formation, being bathed in the invisible flow of vivifying earth forces, but instead I’m here, neglecting my routine duties in order to attempt to capture my own psychedelic experiences in this symbolic form known to me only as Times New Roman.

My foremost problem is that I don’t know where to start. I could begin at my thirtieth birthday, when I realised the profundity inherent in the timeless nursery rhyme which espoused that life is but a dream. I could go slightly further back to the first time I met my own personal magus.

Yes, I could start there.

I could go back to my beginnings at university or my first travels abroad. I could start at my first love-longing relationship or my first crush, my very first heartache or my prime angst. I could begin by telling you of my history or heritage, but nay, I will begin with Jane.

She approached me.

“Heya cowboy,” she had a sexy voice.

There are no cowboys here.

“Suppose you could roll me one of those?”

I looked up.

“I suppose I could,” I grinned.

She was stunning.

Tall and slim, flawless face, a bit bouffant betty on top and light on the mammeries but stunning regardless.

Cheeky grin smirking sanguinely,

sun bouncing from her Victorian complexion,

crooning down at me from above, she looked through me,

and saw what she’d found.

I took her out at her request and she enticed me, coming on too slow, she cooled on me and pushed away and I clawed back desperately, pushing her away in turn.

I endeavoured to forget her, while she forgot me.

We went on with life.




To be continued...
This is the centre of the universe.
My tribe is gathered around me.
Behold me.
I AM.

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abcrystcats
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Post by abcrystcats » April 2nd, 2006, 4:55 pm

looking forward to the rest ....

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jimboloco
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Post by jimboloco » May 1st, 2006, 11:48 am

I could go back to my beginnings at university or my first travels abroad. I could start at my first love-longing relationship or my first crush, my very first heartache or my prime angst. I could begin by telling you of my history or heritage, but nay, I will begin with Jane.
this is an agony
like the devil rays in the bottom of the ninth
ahead of the red sox 5 to 2
they hit 2 solo homers
had runners on second and third, one out
camp comes in, strikes out the next batter
gets a groundout to short to seal the deal
only, man,
you ain't sealed the deal, like

play ball!
Last edited by jimboloco on May 24th, 2006, 10:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
[color=darkcyan]i'm on a survival mission
yo ho ho an a bottle of rum om[/color]

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Rat Bag
Posts: 173
Joined: May 17th, 2005, 6:30 pm
Location: South

I changed my mind

Post by Rat Bag » May 23rd, 2006, 12:24 pm

Writing feels so futile right now. What, with the twenty-twelve prophesies and personal premonitions, realisations and insights, could be the point? I mean, I could be cleaning the house or drinking smooth ale at the Never Say Die. I could be marking work and completing half-term reports. I could be in Yorkshire, travelling the ancient route from the Addingham Moor Doubler Stones to the Twelve Apostles rock formation, being bathed in the invisible flow of vivifying earth forces, but instead I’m here, neglecting my routine duties in order to attempt to capture my own psychedelic experiences in this symbolic form known to me only as Times New Roman.

My foremost problem is that I don’t know where to start. I could begin at my thirtieth birthday, when I realised the profundity inherent in the timeless nursery rhyme which espoused that life is but a dream. I could go slightly further back to the first time I met my own personal magus.

Yes, I could start there.

I could go back to my beginnings at university or my first travels abroad. I could start at my first love-longing relationship or my first crush, my very first heartache or my prime angst. I could begin by telling you of my history or heritage, but nay, I will begin with hell.

"Go to hell!" The man lashed out.

The boy didn't know that his father didn't mean it. It hurt a lot. He spat back in kind, "Fuck off!" and stormed out of the house.

He wandered alone, brewing.

Stewing.

Clueless to his father's anguish, he sat a while, plotting his destiny not really knowing what to do.

He didn't look like he'd been crying when those boys from around the streets found him milling along, kicking his shoes as he stepped.

"Hey! Whatcha doin'?" They interogated.

He denied knowledge and stepped with them in stride.

As he got to know them he could sense the corruption, depravity, dishonest loyalty in the band, but they were friends -- the best kind of foe.

To be continued...
This is the centre of the universe.
My tribe is gathered around me.
Behold me.
I AM.

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stilltrucking
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Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas

Post by stilltrucking » May 23rd, 2006, 5:50 pm

I have been an aspiring writer for over thirty years. I try to learn from the writers I admire.

This post has been very helpful as well as a pleasure to read. I am going to study on it.

Thank you

I hope you will continue with it

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jimboloco
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Post by jimboloco » May 24th, 2006, 10:48 am

Wereyou in the band of bad runaway outlaw boys too?
[color=darkcyan]i'm on a survival mission
yo ho ho an a bottle of rum om[/color]

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