Mitch

II how pretty things are when they are true to themselves so, i say, go - write with your flesh and tendon and bone so, i say, go - dream with your wishes and desire and want so, i say, go - drink sweat, eat words consume passion guzzle determination get drunk off love and wear only yourself amid these pieces of cloth you wear amid this face you wear

[i]Chrono Trigger[/i], hands down. I don't think I really need to explain it. . .I think if you pick this game up and play it, it will explain it to you. Another game worth a mention that I think is heavily underrated is [i]Parasite Eve[/i]. . .I love this game to death and I've had this hankering to play it lately. Here's an old review I did for [i]PE[/i]: [quote]This game's just really different, and I like that. It's a horror game, sort of, but it's also an action game, sort of, and it's also an RPG, sort of. It's mix of a lot of great elements from a lot of genres into one completely original, creative, innovative package. In the game you play Aya Brea, a cop in New York city. In the opening of the game, it's Christmas, 1997, and a cinematic scene opens, and we come to Aya standing outside Caranagie Hall, going on a date to the opera. When she gets into the opera, another cinematic starts. It's this beautiful woman singing, in that opera way, but then, suddenly, things start on fire around her. The curtains go aflame--people start aflame--it all starts burning. But Aya is somehow immune to what is going on. Eventually, you approach this opera singer, and then you get into a boss fight with Eve. From there, the game spans 6 days, where Aya must save New York. The game has a very good graphical look for it being just a PS title, the music is good, the battle system is different--you have PE points (magic) and you can use that, and you move around open-endedly during battles, and attack once your AT gauge is full--it has an interesting weapon system, where you can make your own weapons and add special abilities to them, the same with armor. The game takes about 15 hours to beat, but then you can play an EX game, and also there's the Chrysler Building. This thing you can only enter after you've done an EX game, but it's about 100 floors of hell, on each 20 or whatever floor, there's a boss. And of course, there's the last boss, which after beating you get a new cinematic which I've never seen because I've never made it through the whole goddamned thing--it's so hardcore. Plus, it's really hard in the Chrysler Building. You have to play through the game a few more times before you stand a chance. And the Chrysler Building is also really frustrating--the floors are randomly generated, and are full of dead ends. It's a veritable maze, and takes a lot of patience to get through every floor--but it's a nice added feature. From the reviews I read, people seem to think the game is short. Well, then there's the Chrysler Building, plus there's the fact that this game is so great that I don't care about going through it all again--it's that goddamned fun to me. So basically, these reviewers were too harsh on this game. This game has nice production values. A different, interesting splicing of many genres all put together. It has amazing music. It has horror elements. It has hard bosses. It's moderately difficult. The graphics are good for a pre-PS2 game. The characters sparkle with characterization, and you actually care for them. The weapons system--how you can use weapons and customize them--is very fun. It has the Chrysler Building, 100 floors of hell. It has the EX game. It has beautiful cinematics. It has an interesting story. And yet reviewers don't seem to see what I'm seeing. Ah well. If you can find it anywhere, get this game. E-bay whatever. It's worth it, trust me, if you give it the chance. And if you don't like it as much as me, at least you'll somewhat be fond of it. I think this is a game that is heavily underrated, that needs to get into people's hearts like some other games do. . .well, at least that's what it's like for me. Perhaps I just have something for this game, but it's definitely stayed with me for a while. There's also Parasite Eve II for the PS, as well. I'm planning on getting a copy of that if I can eventually, with the money I make from my job. I've wanted to play that for a while, and from what reviews I've read it improves on what people thought was wrong with the original PE.[/quote] Since then I have played [i]PE II[/i] a bit. . .it will never be as good as [i]PE[/i] but it's pretty good nonetheless. Also, I've always wanted to play [i]Fallout[/i]. I should reall nab a copy of it.

[QUOTE=James][color=#B0251E]I don't really think I have a purpose to exist, other than to eat, sleep, have sex and die. [/color][/QUOTE] You forgot work. [quote]We're just dust in the wind, so why not make the best of it.[/quote] Exactly.

I liked the ambiguity throughout the poem. It takes on an obvious sexual meaning, but all at once, it also has its simpler meaning. The last stanza, however, ruins all this: it focuses [i]only[/i] on the simpler meaning and obliterates the sexual meaning in one fell stroke, telling the reader this poem is about cats, and cats only. I think you should keep the ambiguity and the double meaning going. It's already purposefully there, so why destroy it? Other than that, it's written very tightly,your words are chosen well. Great job.

[QUOTE=Siren]Well, I don't know about that, Shin. On the surface, it's different from what he usually writes, because this piece has an actual grammatical structure and an attention to punctuation. From a technical standpoint, it's like night and day compared to his previous work. From a conceptual standpoint, though, it's exactly like his other material. I see the angst...I see the great offense taken to authority...I see the same kind of reaction to instructorial criticism that his writing has always demonstrated. The tone of this piece is identical to the tone of his previous work, albeit [i]slightly[/i] subdued. But I think even with the effort to conceal that tone, in the end, it still sneaks its way into the piece. Technically, the piece is sharp--and this is ironic, actually, because for all that the piece harps on (essay being cruel), the piece ends up being an essay, [i]especially[/i] when it comes to technique. In fact, the piece is more [i]personal essay[/i] than creative fiction. For as much as the piece preaches getting away from writing essays and developing a more personal literary style, ultimately, it is an essay.[/QUOTE] You make a lot of interesting points, Alex. I don't know if I'd agree with your "it's an essay" argument. Other than that, I'd agree with everything else you said: it is a lot like my other work, only more subdued, more in control, of its message. Thanks for your reply, Alex, and Shin too: I appreciate it.

[quote]The guitarist always takes the same path to his cramped apartment. He walks past the small crowds of people along the dirty sidewalks with the trash blowing around on them. He shuffles forward with his hands in his [b]pants pockets[/b], glancing from here to there at the various people littering the streets. Sometimes there will be a fight between rival gangs. Other times, there will be a few random muggings. It?s all the same to the guitarist; he just tries to steer clear of them. [/quote] I believe "pants pockets" here is possessive. So it should be pants' pockets? But that seems wrong. It is only a minor detail, but minor details are about all I'll be able to point out, because this piece is wonderfully written. [quote]The burly man keeps a firm grasp on the guitarist?s collar as he cranes his neck [b]towards to the camera[/b]. He peers at it for a few seconds, squinting his eyes. He grunts softly and pushes the guitarist away, letting go of his collar. [/quote] Just use "to" here - it is shorter than "towards." I enjoyed the use of present tense, it gave the piece a nice feel. I liked how descriptive the piece was - I could easily picture a lot that was happening. The part about the burly man I found quite interesting. Wonderful job, Shin.

Well, you could've said that before you posted this. Then I would've read it in an entirely different way. And yeah, Sara, you're right, they're all adverbs. I don't really have an excuse, but I was writing this quickly before I went to work. Anyway, yes, I definitely appreciate it now that you've explained to me what this piece is. Now it makes sense.

This is pretty different from anything I have read from you. Mainly it's the character that's different. The sentences were short, simple, and snippy, most often using pronouns. [quote]Today fucking sucks. He?s making a mistake by marrying her. She?s not good for him. She can?t treat him right. He doesn?t know it yet. But I know it. She can?t please him. She doesn?t know how. I know what he likes. I know what he needs. She?ll make him miserable. I can?t let that happen.[/quote] That got redundant. A lot of the long strains of "He. . ." and "He. . ." and "He. . ." and "They. . " and "They. . ." and "They. . ." etc. sentences could be changed so they don't start with the same thing for variety. Because it gets quite annoying and dull and drib the way it's written. But then again, as annoying as it might be to me as a reader, perhaps it further helps develop this character. I liked the use of the present tense. Mostly everything I've ever read has been in past tense, so past tense is a little overused. The present tense gives it a new feeling which lends itself well to the piece overall. The coarse language at first seems odd, but it further helps develop the character. But I'd tend to agree that "fucktard" just doesn't seem right. It comes out of the blue and is somewhat shocking (less so to me than it may have some other readers, perhaps). The story itself was interesting, but mainly I like the character you've created. It seems unAlex to me, someone who's more cynical. I like it. Also, [quote] He always robs me of happiness. Always. And always completely intentionally.[/quote] Read this. It just doesn't sound good. What really throws it off is the "And always completely intentionally." The use of an adverb and adjective and another adjective all strung together to make a sentence sounds horrid. Perhaps it's just personal prefence, but loading sentences down with adjectives and adverbs is bothersome. This sentence could definitely be reworked. Even though you're trying to develop an eccentric character, this could be executed better.

I I read of comic book lore, those modern mythologies, and I wanted to be one of those heroes, I wanted an alter-ego. So I began exercising and lifting weights, and I underwent all forms of martial arts training. If you had a bucket, and took every ounce of sweat I perspirated, it is sure it would be filled to the brim, even leaking. It would've took three buckets to hold all the blood from wounds and cuts and scabs. And if you had a bucket to hold all my determination, you would need a bucket which was bottomless. So I toiled for around three years of pain, triumph, let-down, beauty. When I was done, I was exasperated. I felt drained as a human being. Every ounce of me had been beaten and hit, and I was born anew. I looked at myself in the mirror that day. I had emerged. My muscles bulged, my mind was a sharp shard of glass ready to slit, my eyes were an alive, wavering flame. I felt like I could take the world upon my shoulders and carry it for eons. Nothing would get in my way. II The weights I had lifted were words. The blood I had bled was from the piercing, in-your-skin prick of the syllables as they flew off your mind and into your tongue. They made me sweat. I learned how to make words kick at other words, how to block words, how to break them in half with one swipe of my hand. Words became me. They defined me. The dictionary was my holy bible, my religion. I knew all the stories. Writers are the Gods. The Creators. The hero you always wanted to idolize. The answer to your purposeless, mundane life. In those three years, that is what I became. I became more than a man, I became a hero. The words were my costume. I became someone else through them. I rescued those who were being beaten up by this world. Who were black and blue to it. I gave them meaning. I gave them life. I promised them absolution. I delivered. I told them there was something beyond this cyclic circle spinning around, and around, and around. I was their flailing voice. My voice soothed them and brought justice to their enemies. When I looked in the mirror that day, I was morbidly obese. I weighed 400 pounds. I was the perfect picture of the average American. All this weight only covered what dwelled inside. Inside I was sinuous, I could lift the entire universe on my finger. I could give people strength. I was the dark knight, the man of steel. My words could death-grip you. III Each day was a passing bore. I went to my job, sitting in a cubicle all day, doing what amounted to nothing. Then I came home, sat, and brooded. I sat with junk food in hand, satiating my discontentment with life. Everything was empty, but the food filled me artificially. My fat stomach, chubby arms, and flabby face made it seem full. The fat covering my body hid the fact that I was thin and starving from what my life, and so many countless others', was. Then I would sleep. Sleep was my only solace, my only pleasure. In it, I existed without consciousness. In it, I dreamt and the world I wanted felt real. I would only gain this to be reawoken each morning by the blare of my alarm, telling me it was time to work, then come home feeling sorry for myself and bask in pity by engorging myself with food. IV When I was younger, I read and wrote. While we learned which direction North, South, East, and West were, I was writing or reading because that was my direction. It encompassed every direction. There was no need for any other. While we learned the months of the year, while we learned anything, I was more intent on reading and writing. The only thing I cared for was spelling, and whatever else we did with language. I would pass each spelling quiz with flying colors, I would shout out answers asked about a short story we may have read. I went through my schooling. When I was in 10th grade, we began writing essays. I hated it. It killed everything in me to write like they made you. Creative writing was the only writing I agreed with, writing that was from the heart and soul. I would give my 10th grade teacher some of the things I had written, telling him this was writing, unlike our essays. He would always disagree with me. He would have me stand in front of the class, and read what I had handed into him. Then he would proceed to tear apart what I had written as I read, telling me it wasn't writing. That was the turning point. I was reigned from my writing. I felt it was wrong. When I stood in front of the class in tears, and the teacher still giving me his stern eye, the class laughing, that was the end. I went through the rest of my few remaining years of school feeling I was "going through the motions." By 11th grade, I had a menial job and I hated it. By the time I graduated, I had no clue what I wanted to do. I ended up going to college, getting a major, and getting a job I also hated. V Something reawoke in me. It came out of nowhere, in between my usual, routine life of working, engorging, and sleeping. It was as if from 10th grade on I had been sleeping, and I had startled, opened my eyes, and was alive again. More alive than ever before. I had been cleaning up my huge mess of a house one evening. I was putting some things in the attic when I came upon a yellowed age-old paper. I bent down and reached over my bulging belly. I read it. It was written in child's writing. At first it was foreign. I hadn't a clue why it was here. What it was. As I read on, I realized it was mine. I continued reading it until I finished. I stood there for the longest time. Lying in bed that night, sleep didn't come so easily. My eyes peered out in darkness, but in my head there was a flaming lamp lighting everything. When I dozed off to never-never land, and my alarm rang to awake me, I prepared for work and went. All day, in my cubicle, words whispered to me. They talked to me. Words that had long since become dust relics were suddenly glowing trophies. They wouldn't leave my head. That was where I belonged. The day dredged on, and when I went home, instead of consuming food, I consumed words. They filled me, nourished me. It was food. The best food to ever taste. What I wrote was the first step. It was the hardest step of all. It had taken years and years to be taken. Once it had been taken, it could not be held back. From then on, I was obsessed. I lived to leave work and go home and consume words. There was a monster in me, and he was raging. VI At day, I am an ordinary person. At night, I wear my words. I softly write telepathy. Each letter is a tally for everyone living caged. Each sentence is a punch, a kick. The period will break your nose, and make you bleed. The comma will comb your hair right off your head. The words will eat you alive. I'm a superhero. You'll never know my name.

[QUOTE=Siren]We called it Corporate. We didn't say "the corporation." We said "Corporate." It's not so confusing when you think about it. Working at a place like Boston Market, where you only mean something in that store and that's it, you're not going to waste words talking about the executives and higher-ups that have no idea what's really effective on the front line and what's just a waste of everyone's time. "The corporation" doesn't convey that blank, obscured, malicious power like "Corporate" does. Saying "the corporation" is giving the higher-ups more specificity than they really deserve. Trust me on this.[/QUOTE] All right, I trust you. It's just confusing as a reader. Just pointing it out, sir. ;)

[quote]I guess Corporate just feels that even if only twenty people want chicken for Sunday breakfast, we need to be open for those twenty people. [/quote] Who's "Corporate"? Is it the corporation? This sentence, and the other one where you used "Corporate," confused me as a reader. Either clarify it in the piece or just say "the corporation" if that's what you mean. It was a nice story. Very mundane, but that made it interesting. It isn't like that at the Steak Buffet for me. . .if I'm washing, I'm [i]constantly[/i] washing dishes, pushing them through. Doing something. Especially if it gets really busy, you don't have a second to relax. It gets tiring because it's so monotonous.

I thought it was pretty good. But [i]Million Dollar Baby[/i] is [b]far[/b] more worth seeing. Having seen that movie, it does not compare to this one at all. Reeves' acting wasn't as bad as in [i]The Matrix[/i] this time around. . .he seemed to fit the role nicely. I liked the ending, [spoiler]where you thought he was going to stick a cig in his mouth, but it was nicorette gum[/spoiler]. I didn't find the plot to be anything new. . .I've actually had a heaven and hell story idea for quite some time. It's a lot more in-depth than this movie. I've written a few poems like my idea is, but I have yet to fully conceptualize it. It's worth seeing as a rental when it comes out, but I wouldn't run to the theatre to see it. . .instead go see [i]Million Dollar Baby[/i]. What an amazing movie that was. I personally think it's highly underrated, because so many people haven't seen it. . . either that or it just seems that way.

[quote]The house was, as always, a chaotic mess. [b]The twins? [/b]left their sports equipment lying every which way, including the cups, which were dented from their experiments on how much the plastic, white, protective device could handle. There were random shoes kicked under tables, books tossed on top, and jackets thrown over chairs. Alina?s wedding preparations were not a positive addition. Maria was beginning to feel claustrophobic in her own home. There wasn?t a day that went by when she didn?t regret the fact that she had to walk through that door and into this confusion. Columbia would be her ticket out. She was depending on it.[/quote] Rip it apart? It's pretty solid, so there's nothing I have to suggest to make it better. There is, however, this small error: the twins in this sentence shouldn't have the apostrophe, they aren't possessing anything. This is the only grammatical error I found throughout the entire piece. Other than that, I'm quite impressed. You are a very solid writer, and I enjoyed this story a lot. I have basically no suggestions. . .it's all done really well. The dialogue is well done, and it flows well, and draws you in very well. I will say, though, that the first version seemed underdeveloped, so I'm glad you made the second version encompass more of Maria's day as it unfolded, instead of just focusing on the exchange with her mother. It made it have a lot more power, and it made the reader understand why Columbia would make Maria unhappy.

[b]Wacky[/b][PG] The rope started to burn. Mannie held his three-fingered hand on it. "Ready ta burn?" said the rope. "I didn't know ropes could burn!" shouted Mannie. "I thought it happened to your hands!" Fire was snaking up the fibers. Mannie stared down to the hard, damp floor. Good thing it was a cartoon.

[size=1]This is quite an old poem I found of my own when making my index thread.[/size] [b]The Looming[/b] the fist protrudes upward, its fingers balled tightly to one another in a crushing fist the arm looms under the hand the veins of the arm protrude and the fist opens, its fingers loosen, the palm is revealed, and the fingers begin moving back until the fingers strain and bend the ways they shouldn't. they fall in from the palm pointing down. the arm collapses the veins secede and all has stopped and is on the ground. a drop of water is frame-stopped in time as it hits the floor its form is a Y like a corset wearer's. the light shines and the water looks like a balled fist the arm protruding out. then time begins and the drop of water secedes. a mushroom lies in the wild of a forest's growth on the bark of a tree whose age is limitless. the toadstool's top looms out and shadows its stem the sun falls down between the trees and a woodpecker pecks at the bark in a knick-knack of sound. the mushroom is found by a scavenger. eaten it secedes. a ballet dancer swerves in a twirl and does a handstand. her dress, with fringe makes an umbrella as her legs, thin and bone, grace outward. her body is small as a twig, it is overshadowed by the dress's blooming fringe looming out. she loses balance tumbling to the floor she cowers in her hands leaves from the curtain and secedes. an umbrella held in a Frenchman's hand repels rain as its top looms over its holder's head. he twirls it as he walks with his wife through the narrow streets. and through an alley the umbrella is seen waggling along. he secedes. a muscleman's neck shoulders a bobbing head. the veins stick out in strain. he moves a metal dumbbell up with all his force. his hair moves in strands. and his head looms out from his neck's hold. he lies down on the chair and tired he secedes. a looming cumulo-pileus cloud sombers the sky. its dense mass bulges subtle semi-circles of its fluff. its top is smooth, without subtle semi-circles, and looms above its mass. the cloud is long and wide and heaped-up. on the ground the cloud casts shadows that leer in the eye. the cloud is a malicious castle sky. it crowds and spans far away. a president in distress and the cold war is in effect. missles' heads penetrate on the land. glaring up at the United States the heads hold much in their metal hulls. but they are so hollow when hitten on with a hand. and this crisis is averted in the president's hands. and there the bomb falls, like a stork dropping a baby from its jaws. like a fist, slamming a punch to a face. like a meteor to destroy the dinosaurs. and there the bomb falls, like a metal slug from a bullet hitting a soldier's head. and going deep in to his brain's side. there the bomb falls, like Newton's apple falling on his head. like a hurtling heaven falling from the sky. like a scabbed-winged angel ready to die. like a Kamikaze ready to sacrifice it all in a bang. like a ballet dancer handstanding freefalls in the air. there it falls. and a cloud like a mushroom blooming from the sky. colossal, it looms its ruinous eye. rains down fallout from the sky. atoms go off in a chain reaction of time. like fireworks on the fourth of July. Hiroshima and Nagasaki die. the mushroom cloud subsides. buildings stand in shackle ruins. innocent citizens lick their wounds but die from poisoning radioactive blooms. lives are saved, Harry S. Truman glooms. and the devastation hardens and ends going into a cocoon to spin its way to being remade. [size=1]It is also worth it to check out [u][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37730](link)the thread(link)[/url][/u]. Radaghast analyzed this poem and made some very astute observations about what many of the symbols of this poem mean.[/size]

[size=1]Here's an index of everything I've ever posted in Anthology that I could find. I scoured the forum by search, and then made this. Took a while. The main purpose of this is to expose people to some things of mine they've never read, and to get some new responses about them. I will also use this thread to post any new stories or poems I may write from here on out. I'll post a new story at the end of all these links. These links are in no particular order, although they may be chronological order due to my search. I don't have enough time to further organize everything by poetry or story, but I do know that most of what's here is poetry.[/size] [b][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44373]55 fiction[/url] [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=45409]asiamableedingheart[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=45366]i give you a rose[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=45335]the budgers[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=45195] poets delight in prose insane[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=45179] the eye[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44584]there's a first time for everything[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=14915] a few poems. . .[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=43834]dormant dead[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=43794] anach[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=43622]Somewhere Out There (working novel)[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=43751]shit masterpiece[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39883]nova[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=40081]gargoyle[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39763]So Go Ahead[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39680]Meety Your A Pock A Lips[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39493] it'll kill but it'll spil[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39394]wilt[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39424]happy, sad, and the girl's fate[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=39367]the child[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38932]The Tyrant Kings[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38865]How am i to tell you[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38762]Banging Your Heart[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38723]Nu mbed S oRe[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38637]Metal Cold[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38001]where you go is where you know[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38609]The Man Who Sold the World[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38214]more poems[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38184]Melancholy the Dog Blue[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38183]The Pavements They Are a Mess[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38019]You Won't Steal Me Lucky Charms[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=38010]The Fundamental Differain[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37902]The Pleasure and Derision of His Own[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37830]This Note is Legal Tender[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37730]The Looming[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37774]The Dead Astronaut[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37660]a lot of awesome poems[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37447]Monster[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=37130]Random Story Thread[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=36790]Al[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=36789]Of Spiders and Flies[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showpost.php?p=538680&postcount=7]Poetry Contest, for Chales[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showpost.php?p=541238&postcount=23 ]Poetry Contest, for BabyGirl[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=36441]The Boy's Died[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=36134]Ghosts of the Past[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=35840]From Beyond the Dead[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=35805]Even God Doesn't Throw Dice[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=35593]The Creation of a Comic Book Metropolis[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=35514]May Here This Words Ring True and Feel Into You[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=35359]Ten Poems Regurgled Raw[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=35238]The Hole[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=35110]brain feels black coma gonna be a nebula[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=34560]Can Anyone Stall and Give Me the Directions to TP Topia?[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=34749]Pain[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=34970]Angels Thanatos[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=34951]Life Doesn't Like the Society Play[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=34449]The world is such a sad creature, and so many things cry[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=34071]Bit Nails, Torn Hands, and Death[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=33780]Pristine Nazarene[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=33196]In Memorium[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=33475]Spin-off of the Three Bears[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=23889]567[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=33220]Choices of Choice[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=32633]Marson and Walter the Bear[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=32516]Job Column, first draft[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=31886]Poem Critiques[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=31144]DDR Story[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=31166]Job column, a further along draft?[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=28178&page=3&pp=15]Haiku Thread[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=30383]Job Column, rough draft[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=29321]A Story[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=13980]Mitch's Poetry Thread[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=25428]Trying to Write Humorously[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=24893]Cigs[/url][url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=24276]The Phone Call[/url][/b] [quote][center][b]"The Insomniac, Pt. 1" [PG][/b][/center] "Goddamnit, I can't sleep," screamed the insomniac in his house. He drew the curtains down. "They'll get me if I sleep, won't they? Won't they? I know they will!" He went and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It had little bumps on it. He reached up and wanted to feel them. He got up and stood up on his bed and did just that. "Feels like pimples," he whispered to himself. "The ceiling's got pimples! It's infected!" He started to laugh. It was uncontrollable, and he fell down, out of breath, back onto his bed. Everything was so funny this late at night. He turned on his lamp beside his desk. He put his hands in front of him, and made dog ears with his fingers. It made a large, looming shadow on the wall. "Woof! Woof!" he barked, imitating a dog. "I'mma watch dog!" After a while, even that got boring. He went upstairs and stared out the window of his living room. Whenever he looked out here late at night, he always got the shivers. Before he got to the window, he expected a bug-eyed alien to be there, waiting to take him to who knows where. But maybe it was better than here? Maybe there he'd actually be able to sleep. No bug-eyed alien here this time. All he saw was the world frozen in darkness. Not a damn thing was moving out there, save the moths attracted to the streetlamp, or the stars' twinkle. If only the world bathed in day was like this. Then it would be serene. "I guess I'll go for a walk," he said to himself. He was getting quite bored with staring out the window, not a thing going on. He walked, and ended up walking beside a field. Its plant-life gently swayed in the breeze. Then suddenly, he heard the rustling of someone running through the fields. "They're coming!" he yelled, and began sprinting away. That was when he heard a bang, only it wasn't as loud as gun. Sudden pain hit him at the leg. He'd been shot! It was them! Trying to put him to sleep! He knew it! He could feel the downer entering his bloodstream now, feel it woozing him. Making him drowsy. Then he looked at it and realized it was just a paintball from a paintball gun. "Goddamn kids!" he screamed. He could see a shadowy form somewhere off in the field. "If I hear another of you fire, I'm calling the cops! People are trying to sleep!" And he certainly wasn't one of them. The shadowy form ran off. The irony of him helping others sleep made him have a belated laugh, as he stood there with the pain in his leg stinging like a bee sting. That would bruise in the morning, it was sure. [/quote]

This is a very neat thread. The story you posted is great. I remember posting in that video game-inspired poetry thread. . .too bad it never even got off the ground, it was a good idea. You have such great ideas, Shy. Project Gamer. . .wow, that seems like forever ago, and it was. Three years of forever ago, to be exact. Has my writing ever improved since then. . .and even back then it wasn't too bad. PG was such a good time, and I'm sad because I didn't get as involved in it as I could've. I think my parents took away my net, and I was busy with other things. It's been so long since I've been in an RPG. . .perhaps I'll start joining them again. They can be great fun. I actually should've joined your Vignette thread, but never did. . .I'm sure you'll have another RPG idea some time or other. Be sure to tell me, and this time I'll join, hopefully, and we can have a lot of fun. Also, Angry Student. I had almost forgotten about that, too. . .I really enjoyed your Angry Student. I feel pretty nostalgic now. I feel like I'm older than I ever thought I was. It seems pretty crazy when I think that I've been at OB for about 3 years now. That's a long time. . .well not really but really at the same time. I still need to read Ice Cream World sometime, that story was awesome from the first part of it you posted and I read. I also need to read the second part of Coma and any other parts you write. I think I'll steal your idea and do the same thing. Hopefully I'm not too bad of a copycat. You keep up the awesome work, Shy.

[b]Jesus Christ, superstar[/b] [M] Jesus Christ, superstar, does shows round the world. In them, as a choir sings, he climbs upon the cross, nails himself to it, and hangs there. Blood oozes, and oozes. Maybe it's just ketchup, but who cares? Eventually his pupils fall into his head, and he goes unconscious. By the end of it, blood's bathed everyone.

I'm reading Oryx and Crake. I have very little of it left. I plan to read Brave New World afterward. I also have a whole bunch of books I've started reading and haven't finished. Among these are Diary, by Chuck Palahniuk, The Hobbit (I'm reading it for about the third time), Clan of the Cave Bear (reading it for the second time), Frankenstein, The Sound and the Fury, and War of the Worlds. I'm really spontaneous with my reading, and I usually end up putting down a lot of books and just leaving them aside, somewhat read to read another day. Reading has been sparse as of late. I hope to jumpstart it up again, though. I spend too much time online when I could be reading instead. As for reading recommendations? Choke by Chuck Palahniuk is one of my favorite books I've ever read. It's similiar to Catcher in the Rye (which I'd also recommend), but a lot different at the same time. Choke really has no solid story. . it's about a sex addict who chokes in restaurants so people can save him, and then these people send him money and cards. With this money he pays for his mother's care at a hospital. It is about a lot more than just that, but you'll have to read it to find out. Such a great book. Also by Palahniuk is Invisible Monsters. . .it starts off very rough to get into, but about halfway through and to the end it is amazing. It is about a woman who got into a car crash, and how she uses plastic surgery to get better. Again, it is about a lot more than this (my mind is actually pretty vague on it right now), and it's very enjoyable. Great book, as well. 1984, by Orwell, is one of the bleakest, most beautiful novels I have ever read. It pulls you in from the first words to the last three words, and is a dystopian masterpiece. Everyone should read this book. It's about a man who lives in a heavily oppressed word, basically an oligarchy (it's run by The Party, a few people, whose figurehead is Big Brother), and how he tries to change it. . .I don't want to give too much away, but this book gets so good towards the end, it just blew me away. Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston, is also a masterpiece. It is basically a coming-of-age novel, told about a black woman. It seems ordinary enough, but Hurston writes poetic prose, and the main meat of the novel is just straight-up colloquial dialogue. When we had to read this book for school, I didn't think I would like it. I read the first paragraph and thought it was another I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings all over again. . .but it wasn't. It pulled me in and was so much more. The Great Gatsby is also very enjoyable. It is written so well is its main draw. It also makes some great points about the American Dream. It is told from the point of view of Nick, our narrator, and basically follows a man called Great Gatsby and how he has a dream to have the woman of his dreams. Through Nick he gets this, but of course his dream doesn't quite work out as expected. Clan of the Cave Bear is the first book in a series of books written by Jean M. Auel. This book follows Aya as a little girl, who gets lost from her tribe and ends up in the Clan of the Cave Bear. She looks different than them. She acts different than them, but she is accepted by them. It's about a lot more than I can just sum up. It is a very interesting read, and makes you understand cavemen better, as well as the story is just totally engrossing. It's been a while since I've read this book, but Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is a nice futuristic novel. It follows Guy Montag, a firefighter, only in this world fire fighters burn books. One day, Montag meets a girl on the street, and she serves as a catalyst to make Montag realize what's in books. I read this book about three years ago, and it is also a very good book. Night, by Ellie Wiesel (pronounced "Wheezel") is about Wiesel's experience at the holocaust. It's a haunting, depressing novel, but beautiful. You get to get inside Wiesel's skin and get a taste of the hell someone during the holocaust had to go through. Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt, is an autobiography. Again, you get to get inside McCourt's skin, and go through the triumpths and let-downs of his life. It was also made into a movie, of the same name, which is also worth seeing. Although the movie's not as good as the book, the movie was still damn good nonetheless. The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair, was a novel written during the pulley for worker's rights. It shows the grotesqueness of the meat industry. It's written in a mostly objective, journalistic style. The latter part of the book is a call for socialism, and is very intellectually stimulating. A masterpiece that packs one hell of a wallop. A must-read. Of Mice and Men was one of the easiest-to-read books I've ever read. It was written so simply, and had such a great flow, and was so short yet so long even if it was short. I'm sure many have read this, as well. If not, it is worth a read. It's about odd friendship, and how unlikely people are friends and need each other, and how "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry."

[QUOTE=Siren]?Bruuce Willis, the Aussie? So I walks on up to the driver and get a look at ?im, and think to moiself, ?Crikey! That?s the wallabee from those Die Haad flicks! But oi quickly compose moi thoughts and request the bloke?s ID.? [/QUOTE] I believe you messed up on the qutation marks here. Should it read: [quote]So I walks on up to the driver and get a look at ?im, and think to moiself, ?Crikey! That?s the wallabee from those Die Haad flicks!" But oi quickly compose moi thoughts and request the bloke?s ID.[/quote] I'm pretty sure it should be like that. A minor mistake, but worth mention. It was pretty well done, you pulled off the Aussie accent throughout the whole piece, and it seemed real, and that certainly isn't easy. I found the dialogue from the Willis impersonator here: [quote]G?day, mate!? he exclaims as he ?ands me ?is passport. ?Oi?m Bruuce Willis, famous stah of the silvah screen and the man who put the Die Haad series on the map! I made three of them, too. I started it with the fresh, cheeky, exoiting and action-packed Die Haad won, then followed that with the tired and formulaic but still smash-hit sequel, Die Haad 2: Die Haadah! Then Die Haad 3: Die Haad with a Vengeance, a furiously high-octane and trite car-chase buddy pictah with the Frenchman Samuel L. Jackson as the loveable Negro sidekick, and dialogue so poorly written that you can see me and Sam cringe as we 'act!' The dialogue was so cheesy that my mug on the cover of the film isn't a publicity still at all! It's an actual snapshot of me during filming when oi realized just how much moi cahreah's plunked in the crappah, mate!?[/quote] to be a little too long. You could definitely condense this more, or get rid of some of it. You don't need it all. You are also obviously using this character to make fun of Willis, and it feels a lot like you as the writer are speaking here. Another thing I noticed, you'd been using the apostrophe to indicate missing parts of the spoken words, but some of the time you don't use them. e.g.: [quote]He staated to whine and complain at that point, but I shut?im up roight quick by tellin [b]im[/b] that if he resisted arrest, oi could punish im even furthah. And it just goes to show you...never try ta fool the border patrols, mate! We know film cahreahs![/quote] as opposed to this: [quote]I can?t[b] ?ave[/b] that, so I flip on me blinkers and siren, and the car pulls over right quick. I pull my cruisah up behind ?im, to the reah. I start the recordah, so if there?s any toipe of skirmish, I?ve got it on video, roight![/quote] It is a minor detail, but it's the picky things that show you took the time and effort in a piece. When you decide to take a format in a piece - such as putting apostrophes to indicate shortening of words via colloquial use - you should stick to it. Other than that, it was very enjoyable. Good job, Alex.

[quote][b]As Betty started the ignition and drive out onto the road[/b], loud rap music began to come out from the speakers. Annoyed, she quickly removed the CD and tossed it out of the window. She merged onto the main road, and out to the highway.[/quote] I only read the first part, I'll read the rest later. Siren said everything I would have said, and this is the only error I found he missed.

I'm against legalizing it. I find the use of drugs purely for enjoyment pointless and trying to escape from life. . .There are many ways to enjoy what life has to offer and have a good time, drugs are one of the many, and one of the more useless. While drugs give their users a high, there is payback for it. The hangover, the feeling of little energy after caffeine's effect wear off. Drugs have a price, because our brain is not built to have chemical imbalances such as drugs produce. I could ramble on about drugs. . .but I see no point. People shall, always, do what they want to. To me, drugs are pointless. They are something which shouldn't exist for recreational use. I will never drink alcohol, smoke pot, or anything. I've even given up caffeine, and will never drink it again in pop, or wherever else it can be found. Instead, I split my time into working out, writing, and playing video games. From these a derive my main satisfaction from life, a satisfaction which is greater than drugs could ever give me. If you advocate drugs and like recreational use, that is fine. You are your own person and can do as you wish. But when and if you become heavily addicted to a drug, I hope there is someone to pull you out. But then again, perhaps with many it will never go that far, and using drugs will be an every-so-often thing. All the better.

[b]Fastidious[/b][PG] Monotiny beat and hit and crushed down. Unlocked the door. Stepped inside. Another time slaving past, millions to go. Grabbed Life cereal. Took out a drinking glass, started to pour cereal, stopped. "That's not going to work," he said. He should've smacked himself upside the head. Stupid. Moronic. Imbecilic. Was the mind gone?

[b]The Giant[/b][E] The towering skyscraper of a thing waddled his way into the lake. Sat down, bathed. His pet bear, held in his oafish hand, slept cozily. He lets out sounds of pleasure. The water feels good. He lies back, gazes into the grayishly blue sky. His eyes shut, sleep comes. That was when the poachers came.

[b]Pure as Ever[/b][M] Homosexuals, America's oppressed, stood outside the White House. Signs yelled: "BUSH GET HIS HEAD OUT OF THE BUSH!" "MARRIAGE ISN'T SACRED!" "WE'RE PEOPLE TOO!" "WE DESERVE OUR RIGHTS!" Suddenly vans arrived. Doors shut. Metal clicked. Shouting. Trying to scatter, too late. The guns rang. Blood. Red. Bold. The White House stood pure as ever.