He hadn't written anything in nearly a year. No. That wasn't entirely true. He had written something. Many somethings. Many somethings tantamount to nothing. They were no more than writing exercises. He would start with an idea, a wonderful idea, a brilliant beginning and it would go nowhere after a day. His flirtatious romance with inspiration was just that. His obsession with her kept him in withdrawal when she left and his sense of direction deteriorated. In his languor, he wondered why he kept to such deleterious circumstances. And then, she returned.
ploquie the Pointy Hair is not from plokkey that dude from Armor Games. (and Pointy Hair is not Paper Hat. Two different people just to point that out.)
n00b nodal analysis indicates that a score that is a reversal of the year is not an acceptable n00b score, as on that year a reversal of n00bness occurs. n00bness, not n00b score.
The only other writing I have here is ROaTNO which is flippant and semi-serious (like all of my writings that aren't tricky or sentimental). Other writings are somewhere in the Internet, but I doubt anyone will ever find it because they are in a more-or-less mutually exclusive location taking this site into account.
ubertuna has managed some of the more unpopular topics but I think that's more because they're a tough think and anyone who can seriously hammer out a poem deserves the win for both quick thinking and cobbling. Guess who's projected to win?
Though many things have changed, these streets remain the same. The puddle still stands here for days after it rains, unnoticed by almost everyone save the relatively sane. The little ones make believe and what they believe they make as if the fun will last forever through unending days. Though many people change, these streets remain the same. Every year they come to watch the holiday parades. They walk the streets and crowd the shops for price-down-steeply sales buying things they'll never use though it may have its day. And though I may partake of this I'll always find it strange. Though many things have changed, I remain the same. The same old songs run through my head every time I wake. Everyday I brush my teeth and wash the same old face and head out the door not looking toward another boring day but even though the people change I never seem to act my age.
Okay okay I get it, I should have submitted that poem late in the week, but hey, I was excited! It's like how one gets overexcited to all degrees of ridiculous until you end up starring in that Lonely Island single...
There's nothing to break the quotidien ennui like watching Siamese fighting fish in the puddles. Provided you can find any. Might have to fly across a sea or two to do that.
Either way, it wouldn't matter when you submit. And for this theme, my head is stuck on an ED joke, which might be rather funny, but that's not my style.
Not entirely sure what you're talking about, sense.
Water
A bowl of water sat on the table. And the water fell with a slight twist in the initial spout before it tumbled to the carpet. That was where the boy found it and wondered how it fell. There a conversation started with the boy and his sister. It flowed onward and downward away from its source until it was soaked up by exhaustion. And the boy wondered, "What are we talking about?" He traced his thoughts backwards and smiled where only he could see.
Given the word choice, I don't think so. This isn't the first time this sort of thing has been brought up!
Path Curse Escape Game
The room is bare except for a piece of chalk and a disconnected keyboard. There is a doorway but no knob or handle or anything to open the door. It doesn't seem to move when pushed either. Words written in pencil are barely detectable on the door's surface. It reads, "EH TWR KWAVIJ YFEK, YFIX TWR SXWO OI BLXXWY AIY TWR GW." Do you escape?
First I need to think about just how tricky Gantic gets with his encoding, and whether this is the matter of a simple transposition, random replacement and swap, or something a little more fancy!
If you manage to solve it, you will find a flaw in your reasoning. Either way, the three encoding methods mentioned boil down to the same general solution(s).
Frequently the Restroom
A list for your time, good friend or shall we say?
--You leave me with the bill as you go to other places, frequently the restroom. --You leave me to fend for your seat after you finish the popcorn and take a break, frequently to the restroom. --You leave me to walk back after lunch as you take extended trips elsewhere, frequently the restroom.
What the heck? Friends don't leave friends hanging.
Sometimes I come up with titles without stories. The titles are often metaphors and puns, which automatically makes them somewhat trite, but I find them interesting nonetheless. If only such titles would come automatically when I finish a piece, although something without a title often indicates that it is unknown territory or vertible trash, not trash per se but more slice-of-life, that which does not require planning or outlining. Something more automatic than fiction, though self-deliberation may say otherwise. Returning to the first point, one such title is It Also Rains in the Sunshine State. What exactly does it mean? The metaphor is obvious but is the story? Perhaps it's as straightforward as it sounds and is a fanatics book about the types of rain throughout the three seasons in California; summer, winter, and fog.
That last joke is an in-joke of sorts from an SF Gate article on the fog in Fog City. (The real Fog City.)
All right. I've been having too many "smart" dreams lately and I haven't a clue if this actually happened. "Vertible" doesn't seem to be a word, and I haven't a clue why I used it. I remember looking it up in a thesaurus yesterday and having it come out to mean "normal."