Scrine ~ one part truth, two parts made up truth

What is Scrine?

• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.

What are the rules?

• Play nice. Be kind. Post only single sentences.

• Scrine gives everyone plenty of rope to play with, but reminds everyone that even the longest rope is capable of hanging a person.

• Censorship is ugly, but still not the ugliest bird in the sky. Happily, this has never been necessary.

• The appropriateness of all sentences will remain the sole discretion of Scrine's tender.

Who can play?

• Anyone. Reading along costs nothing but time.

• Membership is required to post your own sentences. Joining is quick and painless.

• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.

What about privacy?

• Your information will never be sold, given away, shared, or even traded for an unimaginably delicious slice of pie.

• The above sentence may be the only sentence on this site that is 100% true.

's notes

Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.

This is a private space. Only you will see your notes.

Expiration date is not required, only if you want the note to magically disappear.

A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."

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Enjoy the Benefits!

  • Words, glorious words.

  • Many fine examples of semicolon abuse.

  • Every sentence backed by solid science.

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Another 500 because I said so :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0
    TAGS: 500 words, perfection

I sometimes stop what I’m doing and try to make sense of what it is I’m putting off in exchange for the stuff I’m doing and it reminds me of how ridiculous it is to not do one thing in order to do something else, I mean, seriously, unless you’re delivering a baby or playing racketball, anyone can multitask the living shit out of life, a person’s brain being spongy for a reason, malleable to a specific end, because, for instance, and I’m speaking from experience here (at least to a certain degree), even flying a plane barely requires the firing a whole lot of synapses anymore, what with the level of automation these days, hell it’s possible to punch in coordinates and let the computer and the GPS arm-wrestle their way to Albequerque and to be honest, I worked harder flying little single-engine puddle jumpers in Alaska, always worried about the combination of mountain turbulence, weather, and those motherfuckin’ flying monkeys unleashed by that wicked witch that lives somewhere in the ass crack of that one mountain (you know the one; it has the snow on it) at random intervals during the seemingly unending winter darkness that falls upon the entire state over the course of roughly eight months and what the hell is with all these people that move to Alaska and then have such a hard time dealing with the long cold winters and dark days and nights, give me a break, is it a surprise that ALSASKA gets cold and dark for long stretches of time, is it some kind of Old Testament miracle that in the depth of winter, the sun may show itself just long enough to flip you the bird as it skirts the horizon, because the earth, you see, it sits upon this AXIS that TILTS and wait, before I delve into the murky depths of astronomy and physics and the complicated workings of EARTH AXIS DYNAMICS 101 allow me to get back to why I’m writing this long and convoluted effort in futility, which is because it has been too long (TOO LONG, I SAY) since I’ve spent any significant amount of time here and it pains me to think that I lack the motivation required for a sentence, one measley sentence, especially when I think back to those times not long ago when I pooped them out somewhat regularly and rejoiced in the outlet of words and punctuation long pent up in a brain that so desperately needed relief from itself, so why then, have I ceased recently, surely it has nothing to do with my current vocation, please, a sentence is a sentence and happens regardless of what else goes on during the course of memorizing how someone metabolizes glucose or the genetic machinery involved in making sure a person can throw a dart, so in the end there is no excuse and all that’s left is to regurgitate all the drivel that’s built up for far too long.

October 29, 2008 at 9:39 AM



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