• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
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."
Here’s what I don’t get about the unadjudicated internet photo meme offers that seem to come thick and fast to the unwary blogger’s in-basket: why aren’t people more concerned that the photos they submit may be stolen for use in, oh I don’t know, some Korean breakfast drink ad?
Watching the sky turn pink, starless, in my city where you slept once while I cried beside you silent.
My blog doesn’t understand me.
Posting a scrine sentence at 10:10, I exercise my formidable multi-blogging abilities.
If you could add a category to the BoB Awards that your blog would be sure to win, what would it be?
I’ve played out this conversation so many times; breaking the news of my harmless little habit to oldman, but never without it ending in some emotional grenade thorwing showdown that I just don’t have the stomache for—forgive me, friends, for not wanting to share you with him.
it’s the process that gets me high and the product that makes me cringe: like the pie that turned watery, the bread that went flat, the mashed potatoes that stayed lumpy; i prefer to walk in the present, free and easy, without dragging the little red wagon of the past behind me- which is why i’m done blogging, (i know, i’ve said it before, but this time it aches so much that even i know it’s true) though, until Keith stops serving me drinks and tells me I have to go home- I’ll never finish scrining.
The office jest of calling Bob’s journal an “analog blog” was mercifully short-lived, but served to warn him that the others might be sneaking peeks.
Typepad sucks toejam—my comments failed three times this morning so fuck it, I quit!
I actually got a high today off of starting a brand-new blog.
I have two blogs, but neither knows the other exists; it’s a little like being a bigamist but you spend a lot less time on the road.
Scrine.com is not a group blog where members post single sentences; members are not snarky lit-minded geeks of questionable repute; and no mention of ducks of any variety is ever made.
Though Step Four clearly stated that she’d have to make a list of all persons she had harmed, Muriel was disappointed to learn she would not be allowed to blog it.
“My blog is world-famous,” boasted Muriel, “if you count the woman in Britain, the guy in Holland, the guy in Tokyo, the two folks in Australia ...”
“If you can stand being openly mocked on a website owned by somebody in Tennessee,” he said, “and see your essay subsequently read and laughed at by people all over the world, have the whole thing remarked upon by your own friends over lunch, and yet find within yourself the strength to post another essay the next day, you may have what it takes to be a blogger.”
Blogs are to literacy what (fill in the blank) is to (fill in the blank)
It was a thought too long to post on Twitter, too short to post on his blog, not public enough for Facebook, not pedantic enough for the listserv and not artsy enough for Plurk, which is why Ken finally just picked up the phone.
The metallic bird, it mocks me… because really, how long does it take to write a sentence?!
Anything that motivates you to blog is a good influence, except for Jar-Jar Binks and the Gosselin family.
“Farting In My Cubicle:” all the embarrassing moments from work people send in in 250 words or less.
Every time I check Pam’s or Bakerina’s or Bunni’s or even JB’s blog and there’s nothing new, my hate for Facebook grows.
Stretch me out, I’m malleable, and attached to the implements of change.
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