Posted by: Michael J on 04-30-08:
You're Welcome
Posted by: Frog on 03-30-08:
k revel everyone is not arol, only arol is arol, you win. the point is that the truth stands for itself, so i do too, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it, which puts your tiny power trip right in its place doesnt it. doesnt matter anyway. cheers.
Posted by: . on 03-28-08:
right, well i guess expecting that drastic of a process acceleration isn't rational is it. *shrug* well if it makes any difference,I myself as Steve,am NOT a wound up nature show host or school shooter or some random person who cant manage to get off their ass without external encouragement or anyone else I killed who's name was Steve.THAT Steve is DEAD in the final context of the word and no one in their RIGHT MIND cares, to continue identifying with him as a living being.This is ludicrous.
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TASM Lab - Information and specialties
MY FIRST SCOUT
A secret story by Jared Bryant
As I approached Boston's "blue line" transit system heading into the cities Government Center, I seized my first moment as the elusively defined position "model scout". I quickly positioned myself in the seat next to this gorgeous young lady hoping she would notice my DKNY suit and wonder what I did to afford such trendy garb. As the stops came and went, the anticipation of actually speaking to this beautiful person made my heart race. "She is just a person" I would tell myself. "She doesn't care who you are or where your from", after all, what's the worst thing that can happen? Rejectionƒ.boohoo. If I am to be an idiotƒ the sting would only last the amount of time it takes for me to climb up the stairs and blanket myself in the protective numbers of the populous. Had I any amount of insight as to the events that would soon unfold, I would have just stood up and punched the passenger next to me out of trying to enact a quick and decisive way of changing fate.
I felt the time was right to pounceƒ. (Have Andy do the "Meow, pounce" for this part) I waited until just before we arrived at our destination, figuring if she was not deterred by the sheen of my glossy sweat covered forehead; she may just be receptive to my faltering diatribe. In this scenario, not waiting until the train comes to a stop and opens its doors could prove most costly. I was not aligned to field any questions concerning my newfound career (of which I was growing suspect of on a minutely basis).
Here goes nothingƒI meanƒ"nothing".
The next portion of the story unveils the single most frightening, uncomfortable and just plain embarrassing moment in my illustrious, but tangled life of social interaction. "Excuse me, are you a model?" As the heads turned to see who was cool enough to pronounce "I'm a model scout" the face of this gorgeous women opened to reveal a twisted, back woods Cajun bayou set of chompers that had this well traveled man groping for verbs. Terrified to be so close to such a lack of dentistry, I shied away from handing her one of my cards out of fear that the motion of the train would undoubtedly force her to lunge forward and jab one of those tusks into my precious little paw.
The blood rushed into my head in an effort to keep me from passing out on the floor of freshly chewed gum. The stares from my fellow commuters seemed awkwardly sympathetic to my situation, as one would be towards a person coming face to face with the crushing death of a bear trap. If not for this next act of mercy (of which I can only attribute to the existence of a god), I would have surely began looking for a way to throw myself from this fine display of public transportation. No more than two seconds had elapsed since the discovery of the toothy graveyard, but it was an eternity. I lived and died in those fleeting moments, and now I was going to be resurrected from the abyss of tortured rejection.
"Holiman-ga-if-amabode", (I hoped this meant, "I don't speak English" in Swahili). The faces from the surrounding railway zombies had had changed abruptly from sympathetic to pathetic. My only motivation became proving myself to the spectators of this proverbial (almost literal) "train wreck" and try to seem worthy of the apparel I donned. "You are beautiful" (trust me Andy, it didn't flow quite as well as the compliment I gave to that gal in Minneapolis). I spoke like most people speak to non-English speaking foreigners...with a slow and elevated tone.
I hoped that if she knew any English, this might be one of the words. Of course, whoever may have given her this compliment in the past must have done so as an unsuspecting dope (much like yours truly) prior to the exposing of her ivory leather shredders. Lucky me, she understood. Had I greater abilities of clairvoyance I would have foreseen the inevitable reflex induced by the acknowledgement of a compliment, which turns the corners of the mouth upward and widens a smile. I am narrowly escaping the horrific uncontrollable "incident" which has been standing over my shoulder waiting for the ripened situation to become too much for this curdled body to contain. My worst fears of erupting violently in the face of this poor women/tyrannosaurus were building to the point of no return. I have had out of body experiences, and I was getting that familiar sensation of lofty spirit, as if my only defense against this monster named "incident" was to have my soul leave my shell. All hope is now running for cover. The first wave hits with the subtlety of a sneeze that may have blown out a sinus. Hiding as far in the haunch of my shoulders I must have been a site. I Sheepishly glance back at my now captive audience, as if to communicate telepathically what was about to happen but the price for their admission to this rare phenomenon was not letting them in on the joke. I thought things like "I wonder how far I will get trying to explain my situation to this peanut gallery?" Then the second waveƒI had this idea, and of coarse by now my brain is pumping like the piston of a monster truck, I pictured trying to let someone in on the joke, only to have them retort with another foreign language. This sent the snot shooting out of my nose at a speed so explosively it could only be measured in Feet Per Second. Precluding this was a build up of lung steam leading to the compression of air trying to be absorbed back into the body slowly so as not to alarm anyone as to just how close they were to witnessing something that would affect them long past the ride into town. My eyes became bloodshot. Just when I thought I would have to give in, or suffer the injury of a jettisoned eyeball, this wonderful sound which I had heard a thousand times prior in different hotels while getting onto an elevator, or when forgetting to shut the lights off in my carƒ"DING!" Like a 3rd grade recess bell or an angel's trumpet signaling the end of purgatory. The silky voice, this voice of God exclaiming in a deep Martha's Vineyard accent as if Ted Kennedy himself was freeing me from this near mummification, "Guvament Centah!". Like swimming too deep, and trying to surface as fast as possible but not knowing how much further you have to reach air. I erupted out of the doors of the train laughing, snorting, and making noises that make other folks down right upset. I tried convincing myself that the next attempt at this scouting thing would yield an English-speaking citizen, and not look like they had been chewing on a lug-nut, but all I could think was "I will never be able to approach a stranger again".
For other fun reading, see 53 Stories by D. Austin Nash
Comments from the world
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Posted by: Michael J on 04-30-08
You're Welcome
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Posted by: Frog on 03-30-08
k revel everyone is not arol, only arol is arol, you win. the point is that the truth stands for itself, so i do too, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it, which puts your tiny power trip right in its place doesnt it. doesnt matter anyway. cheers.
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Posted by: . on 03-28-08
right, well i guess expecting that drastic of a process acceleration isn't rational is it. *shrug* well if it makes any difference,I myself as Steve,am NOT a wound up nature show host or school shooter or some random person who cant manage to get off their ass without external encouragement or anyone else I killed who's name was Steve.THAT Steve is DEAD in the final context of the word and no one in their RIGHT MIND cares, to continue identifying with him as a living being.This is ludicrous.
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Posted by: seventh cloners cloners clone's clone of a seventh cloners cloners clone's clone's clone on 03-19-08
everything is enchanted. enchantment is the more melodic synonym of entropic gravity touching closer to its etheric nature as you see it takes the cemetary out of the song in essence linguistically. take, for example, my radio. it's an inexpensive cd player and am/fm model with no tape player and no clock- i had the option to let my mom get me a pricier model because it was a birthday gift but the other model was unaesthetic. the brand name printed on it demanded attention. this little guy doesn't ask me to look at it. after my mom bought it for me i gave it back then bought it off her, which sounds like nonsense maybe but thats what i had to do for it to be mine. now its in my aparment sitting on the microwave, plugged into the wall (the radio is, not the microwave), but i never use it, nor do i intend to. i never turn it on. i don't own any cds and i'm not interested in the radio stations. it's just important, for some reason, that that thing is there. it's existence and presence in my apartment in and of itself is the manifested expression of the radio station i'm listening to, the radio, at least that part of it that is there merely to act as a mental reference point to the radio, to itself, to the essence of the here and now that is the true raw nature of time as it would otherwise be forgotten in the false context of memory. there is no music that is richer than this. there is no signal stronger than silence as all sound is contained within it. everything is enchanted by silence. the strength of an existences enchantment is measured by the strength of its silence. this is true for all of existence including within the context of music as expressed in the wake of silence.
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Posted by: i agree on 03-17-08
revel is a coward on an ego trip. no argument there at all. i am you as you are he and you are me and we are all NOT -that- guy revel.
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Posted by: . on 03-17-08
there's obviously a direct connection between time travel and the dimensions. when a person time travels the first thing that happens is that they effectively erase their original timeline, so there has to be somewhere for te traveller to be wen their originating timeline is gone, and that is the dimensions/dimensional existance, which is the same as the place refered to as the other side, which is accessable by degree of indisposal to physicality, of course. it i by order of the cessation of interest in the expression of the local timeline that the traveller is imparted visibility within this field, and this process may be expressed in varying degrees of speed. the traveller for example may wish to sift bulk from their observed expression or to purge it, perhaps in haste, which would lengthen the process, as more bulk would then be created while attempting to escape entropic gravity which no one can do on the other side or on this one.
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Posted by: Emmanuel Teijeiro. Original creator of homestarrunner.com on 02-11-08
so i was like "i sure am the original creator of homestarrunner.com and i don't give a fuck who your two brothers think they are". and that was that.
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Posted by: frog on 02-08-08
in response to "black lentil"'s prattle about sporky:
dude, how are you going to say that it's SAD that a kid named after a plastic fork and spoon combination i ate parfaits from kentucky fried chicken with when i was the same age he was when we were both on the farm does better growing up in the mainstream, using a username that's just a ripoff of kira's, and an incoherent one at that, and expect to be taken seriously? i mean, by anyone intelligent, obviously you succeeded in shutting down the thread and making a spectacle of hipforums moderatorship, but that's beside the point. or is it. heh. nevermind. good job genius.
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Posted by: post regarding revel's ego trip in zendik forums on 01-28-08
Revel: (clears throat) Everyone (in the context of this dicussion) IS Arol, and everyone else here for that matter. You ARE a weak masochistic conceited bitch, and a failure at life. I AM intelligent and confident enough not to bother wasting my time either advising or commanding you to "get some class" as I DO recognize the boundary between my responsibility and yours, and that IS the reality you have to face every day of your life, waking or sleeping. I AM the winner of that and any other existing argument for that matter, and I AM at this moment as these words are spoken, a better zendik than you, a better man than you, and a better person than you, BECAUSE my response to life is YES, to knowing that the one bearing the devils advocate excuse is the fool, the martyr, the retard, and the loser, being yourself, in that matter, of course. Cheers (to me). Blan.
Frog
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Posted by: whats wrong with my name on 01-25-08
god IS us, and wether or not i care about you doesn't need to be ADVERTISED. this dilema is the foundation of the zendik cult, which is founded and led psychically by me simply because i bear that name, and am conscious of it's fallacy, and THAT's what's behind zendik. That's the whole thing.
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