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Posted: August 26th, 2008, 12:52 pm
by Doreen Peri
oh wow.. you edited your post

you're going to avoid me?

wow... well... I'm so sorry to hear that

i'm just a human being tapping away on the internet being myself

if you don't like me, there's really nothing i can do about it jack

peace 'n' love

(and yes, I didn't like the Les S. Amore posts to Super Robot Girl. That's one of the reasons why I killed her. ....more evidence that the internet is not real... I certainly didn't mean to lay it on all men that they were pigs...

But I got a lot of private messages sent to Super Robot Girl with men flirting with her like the character was a sex object. I didn't want to play a sex object role. I wanted to write science fiction. The whole thing sorta threw me. Maybe it was the avatar I chose? My bad. I didn't expect to be in a position to have to play a sex object role. Not my thing. )

Posted: August 26th, 2008, 12:55 pm
by stilltrucking
I am just tired

Maybe I have come to the end of this road

what a relief.

Posted: August 26th, 2008, 12:56 pm
by Doreen Peri
stilltrucking wrote:I am just tired

Maybe I have come to the end of this road

what a relief.
Yep. The internet is tiring. I'm exhausted myself.

Talk to you later. I have to work.

Post here if you want. If you don't want to, that's up to you.

Take care, my friend.

Posted: August 26th, 2008, 12:57 pm
by stilltrucking
I like you plenty
not the issue

like I said above maybe I am just done
maybe I have finally burned this compulsion to open these text boxes.

and I am grateful for this artlog, probably better if I at least confine myself to the artlogs.

I am very interested in liberator's cut ups.

And I can't make it through the day with out a mingo or constantinople fix.

Re: Dry Streams and other

Posted: March 14th, 2019, 9:23 pm
by gypsyjoker
by constantine » Mon Aug 25, 2008 10:07 am

"don't do this to me dimi"
racking my brain ransacking my mind trying to remember a poem by dino

because the floor fell away under my feet and I went hurtling down into a black that was darker than black
Dry Streams and other
Post by silent woman » Sat Aug 23, 2008 7:42 am

black holes of the writer's life
I would rather read a poem
that makes me feel as if the floor

beneath my feet has fallen away
and I am hurtling through black darker than black
a blackness that glows against the black

rather do that
than read nothing at all
so it sit's here and prays for writer's block

is it writing
this compulsive scribbling
or hyper graphia?

put me on highway
show me a sign
I'll be willin
to open a text box

tap tap tappy tap typey tap

Re: Dry Streams and other

Posted: March 14th, 2019, 10:16 pm
by gypsyjoker
I have gone through forty pages out of 179 pages of posts by Constantine and I still have not found the poem.
But I did find this one which I love.
alternate universe
Post by Constantine » Wed Dec 22, 2010 8:07 pm

i go nuts in this place
and it helps talking to you
i feel so alone
i sit at the computer
i check out the sites
as if
i was visiting with friends
family, or petting a cat
i saw a neat cat online
once i saw a kiwi
and it changed my life
in some minuscule sense
i felt i could understand
what it goes through, searching
the forest floor, a grub here
an insect that tastes buttery
squabbles and squawks
social life, i crave that
sometimes, i miss it so bad
that i resort to poetry
i'm talking to you now
from an alternate universe
a galaxy of kiwi birds and squirrels
good people, i love them so
but i can't make them understand
i can't make them accept me
as one of their own kind

Re: Dry Streams and other

Posted: December 15th, 2019, 11:04 am
by jackofnightmares
mingo wrote:
plenty time for love
the smell of lentils cooking and cookies baking smells like love
jitterbug wrote:
"If we fill every moment with love will time will see that it's done"
winter solstice a week away
long nights, too long too sleep through so I am awake five hours before sunrise
geezers don't need much sleep
the blessings of longevity I guess.
even so I am dreaming my life/time away

I will always hate you for introducing me to (随筆) 8)
I needed another writing obsession
a fix for my hypergraphia/d herbographia
Some days I am the bear in Pogo that could write but could not read,
I read what I have posted on this thread months later and my jaw drops. :roll:

Re: Intel T2500

Posted: December 19th, 2019, 11:37 am
by jackofnightmares
dino wrote: but i can't make them understand
My little sister is a J.A.P.
as if she was following the brush, tappy tap taping on a jitterbug keyboard
This is a bitch of a laptop I am on, its got an Intel2500, takes a lot of persistence to get a sentence out. Its benched mark at 857.
Like pulling 80 tons up Soldier Summit Utah old with a B-61 Mack

Zuithitsu is when I am walking the dog with the big boys
Rose your boy is here on the porch of his Texican home
23 degrees in the bright sunshine

She sleeps with a pea under her Pillow
my phone is ringing must be baby sister, we talk for 15 or 20 minutes and I come back here
We talk on the phone every day, First thing after hello I always ask her how she slept. Some mornings that pea feels like Mt Everest.

OK what happens now

Posted: December 23rd, 2019, 10:53 pm
by jackofnightmares
This is too much I'm actually dictating this wow I don't have to work my fingers to the bone anymore typing yikes

Re: daughtren (archaic).

Posted: December 29th, 2019, 12:22 am
by jackofnightmares
sisters, one ex-marine with an Italian rifle, a funeral in Baltimore, and I was at her mother's throat, ten years of wandering, a dose of acid, abortion and adultery and here I am.
my Rose of San Antone was on her death bed when I promised to look out for her daughter

mothers and daughters
sons get off easy
daughters catch way more hell from their mothers.
at least my baby sister did
I read that studio eight is a nice place to visit. Maybe so, but I live here. It is my refuge from myself

Re: Studio Eight is a Turing Test

Old crone on her deathbed an ex-marine with an Italian rifle
My Rose of San Antone Johnny I hardly knew ya
Sixty years come and gone since November 22, 1963, I am still alive.
even though Ferlinghetti's train has left the station
I can live without romance but not without Friendship.
I am a rock but not an island
I am Special, not normal.
RE: Phillip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

Is this it?
To leave something behind/after me on studio 8
A last will and testament, a legacy, like an artifact of my consciousness

like leaving footprints in wet cement
a spooky kid could not believe this world was real, as far back as I can remember it seemed transient, ephemeral street scenes of the Gone World