Post | Login    

Comments

Top Scriners

  1. Keith :: 2437
  2. 'mouse :: 1874
  3. boot :: 1297
  4. Jo :: 1040
  5. Br. Ezra :: 979
  6. pam :: 681
  7. bakerina :: 555
  8. e :: 451
  9. littledevilworks :: 340
  10. steve :: 261
  11. You can call me, 'Sir' :: 226
  12. grudknows :: 213
  13. goliard :: 178
  14. hysterium :: 177
  15. carrot :: 144
  16. Centerfold :: 126
  17. JadedBeauty :: 124
  18. darksteve :: 118
  19. Bunni :: 112
  20. Snow :: 64
  21. other keith :: 63
  22. scott :: 62
  23. heather :: 61
  24. Skyte :: 51
  25. baltimore :: 51
  26. OhNo789 :: 50
  27. mercuryfern :: 37
  28. hameno :: 37
  29. Elisson :: 37
  30. cetacean :: 35
  31. skif :: 30
  32. Coyote :: 28
  33. Mr. Fitz :: 26
  34. VanEck :: 25
  35. The Girl :: 22
  36. microkat :: 21
  37. viki :: 19
  38. admiral dewy wilkins :: 18
  39. Imaginary Keith :: 17
  40. tajtonic :: 16
  41. Nyuu nyuu :: 16
  42. aerosolspray :: 16
  43. OralGrist :: 15
  44. Joan of Argghh! :: 15
  45. Ontario Emperor :: 13
  46. limine :: 11
  47. toaster :: 9
  48. Randy :: 9
  49. Tiff :: 8
  50. Mike Schwartz :: 8
  51. shady180 :: 7
  52. Glee Riot :: 7
  53. SarahsGreenEyes :: 6
  54. pat :: 6
  55. kimberly :: 6
  56. johnsheirer :: 6
  57. Dr. Stevenson :: 6
  58. Chug :: 6
  59. Chade :: 5
  60. the boy :: 4
  61. Henry :: 4
  62. halfadeckshort :: 4
  63. Christopher Cocca :: 4
  64. Scrine :: 3
  65. Schofeild :: 3
  66. kel :: 3
  67. emsie :: 2
  68. steepest_slope :: 1
  69. Spilane :: 1
  70. princesstoughguy :: 1
  71. pickles :: 1
  72. Coryashire :: 1
  73. Cate :: 1
  74. 7AM :: 1
  75. *cough* :: 1

Archives

Scrine Games

Using the links in the Scrine Games area will hopefully make posting to certain game threads easier than ever.  Using the Alphabetti Spaghetti link, for instance, will not only show you the last several Alphabetti Spaghetti sentences, but gives you a special quick post box that automatically adds the FSM picture to your post.

Look for some other games/threads to be added.  Next on the gaming agenda:  The Spice Cops!

Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Paradelle for Delilah (a Camry) :: OhNo789 :: 0

When air rises from my mouth in the cold.
“Warm air rises from my mouth in the cold.”
Autumn leaves protest my passage.
“Autumn leaves protest my passage,
cold passage from warm in the autumn,”
my protest air rises, leaves my mouth.

The windows are covered in a frost.
“The windows are covered in a frost!”
Glove compartment promises, broken,
“Glove compartment promises broken,
promises [a glove] are covered in the
compartment,” broken frost, windows.

“The car failing to start on this of all morning(!)?”
(The car, failing to start on this of all mornings)
“A compact disk skips in its player!”
(A compact disk skips in its player,
A compact car on all its failing mornings)
“Start!” skips in this player of the disk.

“Promises of warm mornings from the car
start covered in leaves, falling passage?”
My protest on this glove, “A Frost! The Cold!”
Air skips, rises in my mouth.
A disk, compact, in its player, broken:
“Autumn, The windows are, compartment, to, all.”


Thursday, November 13, 2008
A Pantoum for the Children from their Appliances :: OhNo789 :: 3

Slowly losing ourselves,
we sit here on the couch
and we watch the flicker of the TV screen,
though the channels offer little.

We sit here on the couch,
a refrigerator humming in the background,
though the channels offer little
more than static and white noise.

A refrigerator humming in the background,
a siren that lures but doesn’t give. He wants
more than static and white noise
while the microwave sings a happy tune,

a siren that lures but doesn’t give. He wants.
He never finds what he wants
while the microwave sings a happy tune
of half cooked TV dinners and plans.

He never finds what he wants,
save for sounds and songs
of half cooked TV dinners and plans,
the stove warming up.

Save for sounds and songs,
like the air conditioner,
the stove warming up,
there is little else.

Like the air conditioner,
the rain thrums at the windowsill.
There is little else,
but the TV blares on.

The rain thrums at the windowsill.
We never knew of the growing storm,
but the TV blares on.
We are getting nothing.

We never knew of the growing storm,
though we knew to start the stove while
we are getting nothing.
10, 9, 8 the gas has been running.

Though we knew to start the stove while
slowly losing ourselves,
10, 9, 8, the gas has been running,
and we watch the flicker of the TV screen.


Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Evolving into something new :: OralGrist :: 1

I have been wondering lately if this sense of unease I’ve been feeling lately has been the usual change-of-season funk, or if it’s something more. In the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about my activities online. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the blogging I’ve been doing online. I’m starting to feel as though this activity that was begun as a hobby is turning into a vocation. Am I a writer? I don’t think of myself that way, and I’ve never considered writing as a career path. So this feels...new. It doesn’t fit, not yet. But it might, and perhaps soon.

On another note, I dreamt about ants last night. Big ants, little ants, poisonous ants, hard-to-kill ants. I triumphed in the end, but it was a hard-won victory, and there was little joy in it, even in the dream. I do remember it took place in Georgia. I don’t know if that’s significant. Or if any of it is; or if I just need to stop taking my meds so close to bedtime.


how frustrating… :: baltimore :: 0

Why is it that every time I have a great idea for a story, I can never write it down? And by the time I can, I’ve completely lost it. No recollection what-so-ever, except that it was amazing.

(sigh) Damn....

On the plus side, I recently received an art commission from a friend, and managed to finish it in a day. I am both proud of, and surprised with myself.

It felt nice to have a purpose to what I was doing, and it really got me motivated.

Now if only I could find more people to pay me to do what I love (though am not necessarily good at)…


Ideas & Plot :: Keith :: 1

A third of the way into this year’s NaNo and I’m yet to actually nail down more than a handful of words, but I was able, just this morning, to finally pound out a workable idea and plot that has very little to do with reality, giving me a slight bit of hope that I can actually write the thing.

Every year I keep coming up with these ideas that I hoard away in the back of my brain, thinking they’re such good ideas that I’m afraid to talk about them.  Writer’s paranoia that the idea they struggled so hard to come up with will be whisked off by someone with prolific fingertips and publishing connections.  But I want to break that cycle this year and will give away the plot, or at least some of it as I understand it, with the hope that this will help fuel my need to get it written.  Will it work?  We’ll see.

So here’s a very condensed synopsis of what I’ll be working on:

A semi-reclusive billionaire uses his large, wooded estate located on the outskirts of a seemingly insignificant small, Northwest town to conduct a social experiment on a group of hermits he gathers from all parts of the world.  More of a hobby than a true experiment, the billionaire dabbles with the hermits lives as he explores the nature of their truly reclusive lifestyles, which he sees as having been chosen out of desire, rather than need.

The billionaire also exploits the hermits’ anonymity hide huge sums of money in their names, or rather, in dummy corporations he’s set up in their names. 

The billionaires experiment is inadvertedly “discovered” when a regional morning news show jokingly refers to the town as the Hermit Capital of the World, a title that catches the attention of the local channels’ network, which arranges for “Good Morning, America” to schedule a broadcast from the town square, leading to a series of events that the billionaire and everyone involved soon find they can’t control.  A festival, named Hermits, Unite! is planned around the media event, which town leaders hope will bring in tourism and put their town on the map.

The hermits, having no desire for any of the growing madness, inadvertently catch wind of the great fortunes Callister Hodge has hidden in their names, and decide to come together as the most unlikely of gangs, turning the tables not only on the billionaire by stealing the money, but on the entire town for wanting to exploit them.


Sunday, November 09, 2008
I Make Another Feeble Attempt :: Keith :: 4

The Novembers roll right around, seemingly right on top of one another, meaning that another NaNoWriMo is here.  I made such a feeble attempt last year that it barely qualified as an attempt at all, but of course, I had an excellent excuse.  Anyone who thinks they are a writer, dreams of being a writer, or even barely imagines that they are a writer, should, at the very least, be able to come up with an excellent excuse for everything.

I wasn’t going to try this year, and just throw in the towel on the 50,000 word in 30 days idea, but what’s the point in giving up.  Sure I haven’t written more than a small handful of sentences in months, but what better way to try and jump start myself than forced writing?  My first idea, that I tried for a day or two, was to work up a collection of expanded Schuster stories, but for some reason, as much as I want to tell that story, I just found that I wasn’t into it right now.  The story of Schuster needs to be told right, if it’s going to be told at all, and I could see right away that I wasn’t telling it right.  So this morning, nine days into NaNo and with only a handful of words to my credit, I canned the idea.

So last night I went to bed very early so I’d pop awake fresh and ready to come up with something new, yet something old enough in my head that there’d be enough there to get started.  The plan, I think, paid off, because by 3:30 I was stirring, and by 4:00 I was up and about, looking to catch that sideways glance at what was about to be the next idea.  I always think best in the morning.  It’s quiet and dark and the world is still.  I like it that way.  I always have.

And I did come up with an idea that I’ve started pounding out sentences on, so now it’s just a question of whether or not I can make up those 1,670 words per day that I’ve missed out on for the last week and a half.  If I do great, if I don’t, oh well.

If the current idea sticks and I hit some sort of stride, I’ll share some excerpts.  All I’ll say at this time is that it involves hermits and was Scrine-inspired.  Now, to the keyboard!


Saturday, November 08, 2008
(sigh) christians… :: baltimore :: 0

I have honestly never understood religious zealots, and it always makes me uncomfortable when they try to “save” me. They seem to feel it’s their duty, and yet, I don’t need to be saved.

I have this friend who has always tried to convert me, though he’ll never admit to it. He tries to persuade me in the most poetic ways. And I do find his talk of religion fascinating, but when he gets preachy, I tend to stop listening.

He thinks it’s for the best, but really, all he ever does is alienate our friendship.

Lately, he’s been acting like an ass, and I think he’s finally come to realize it. Or at least I hope he’s come to realize it. Maybe he’ll learn and start to fix things himself, instead of relying on God to do it for him....

...we can only hope.


dreams :: baltimore :: 2

Man, I was having some strange, strange dreams last night… The first one involved a baby polar bear that I was supposed to take care of, and I had to show her how to use a toilet. There was this male with her, who was disguised as a human, to watch over her, and kind of help me out. It was a very good disguise, until it flickered and revealed his fuzzy white face.

In the next one, I was trapped in a community college with a bunch of other people, and there were something like war simulations going on. We kept getting smoke bombed, and eventually we were trapped in a courtyard. After the last smoke bomb, we finally managed to get out of there.

Then - and I have to say this is probably the strangest - this morning, for just a few seconds, I dozed off, and dreamt I was a stick figure…

Weird.... I wonder what they could mean.


Friday, November 07, 2008
Some Poetry :: OhNo789 :: 2

The PennySaver (Structured Free Verse, Scrine Inspired)

In the bottom left hand corner of the Sunday classifieds,
besides “Red Bicycle!”
(Slightly bent rim)
and just below “New TV!”
(Parts)
there was a somewhat unique proposal.

The ad read, simply,
“Optimist!”

Intrigued, I read on,
reading the small,
smudged bits that I , the drowsy buyer, never check.

“Optimist!”
(Will clean out the basement of your mind;
Will get rid of the built up funk of one too many lonely days;
Requires room and board.)

Having finished,
My eyes just slid down to the next item,
“Explosives!”
(Only used once)
and I ended up buying the latter.

After all,
Explosives are somewhat cheaper than optimism.

Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua (Normal Free Verse)

By my Mom’s house there is a church,
and the stone walls are graffitied with foreign beliefs
and the stained glass with spider webbed cracks,
doesn’t look like it once did.

It has been a long time since Mom first sent me there
with a dime in my pocket,
and it has been a long time
since I first walked through the large, wooden doors,
but I’d hazard a guess
that it hasn’t changed all that much since my time there.

I’m sure that Reverend Jack
still can be heard preaching the same sermon every Sunday
with the slight hint of hesitation of a man who doesn’t completely believe his words,
and I’ve seen the second pew back from the alter,
the wood still bears the crafty marks of my pocket knife.

Yes, yes I’d say that it hasn’t changed in most respects
save for one:
now Mom can be seen there every Sunday and Wednesday beside the churchyard,
in fact, she can be seen there most any day, service or not,
rain or snow.

Long Exposure (Meter Poem)

Yes,
Oftentimes I used to stare at those time-lapse photographs,
The ones of red, disembodied break lights,
And I would always start to wonder what it would feel like
To be free of car and driver.

With
The city street wet and slick in the small hours of night,
And the flickering, neon open signs
Inviting me to come and revel in the dark corners
To come cast away all dark thoughts,

The
Storefronts seem to call my name, beaconing me to their side
To have me peer into their glass windows,
to tempt me with their advertisements and bargain prices,
but I am not one for such things,

so
I move along down the street as if I had never seen
a thing or offer, and search the blacktop
for a turn in my path, a sudden left, perhaps, but no
there isn’t one to be found here,

But
I wish that I hadn’t seen what other places had held
for me, the storefronts can only offer
a happy dream which can never be lest I become like
those photos with lights and no cars.

I
Turn from the road that I’ve run on since nineteen sixty-two
And to the sidewalk I would haply go.
There would be no reason to follow for I am set loose
From car and driver. 


huh… :: baltimore :: 4

It’s interesting.. I’ve barely checked out this site aside from the main pages, and (aside from now) have not posted anything except sentences and confessions. Perhaps I should really get on that....


Page 1 of 18 pages  1 2 3 >  Last »