posted
If I have the time, I may write an epic with me and most women of Hatrack -- but I've got two hours left, and far too many e-mails to respond to.
Oh Ralphie. Sweet Toni, light and love of my life. Would you write me a story, very dirty, including crucial plot elements like handcuffs and cattle? (And yourself. And Billie. And whichever other Hatracker chicks I'm attracted to. Like Tom!)
Posts: 3293 | Registered: Jul 2002
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posted
Banna, there's a network-wide problem in southern Wisconsin that's affecting access to a large number of specific sites. It's at the backbone level, and we're assured that people are working on it. Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999
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posted
Cool, Tom, thanks for letting me know what is going on. I guess I should have posted my test on some other thread but I didn't want thread killa to kill the thread either!
posted
Actually, the whole thing is a metaphor. A meta-metaphor, in fact, reminiscent of Claude Levi-Strauss' later work. It's complicated. On the surface, you see two people falling in love. But if you step back and squint you see the imprisonment of sound in the contorted loops of modern language. It's both beautiful and terrifying.
Posts: 5957 | Registered: Oct 2001
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posted
you know, jon, the problem with knowing witty and wonderful people in this medium is that i can't tell if posts like that are sarcasm.
Posts: 3956 | Registered: Jun 2001
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posted
I was being sincere then, too. I really would like to read whatever story you wrote about me and Ruth. Honest. I'm not even kidding or anything.
Posts: 9945 | Registered: Sep 2002
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posted
He is being serious, celia. He told me he wanted to see what you'd write. I would like to too, for that matter, but if you don't have time . . .
I assure you, afr, Jon Boy oozes romance, but I can't quite tell if it's his ears that are the problem. I should check.
Posts: 537 | Registered: Jul 2001
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posted
"And anyway the wind blows It's all worth waiting for"
Jon heard the echoes of her footfalls on the sidewalk behind him. A rhythm of perfection and beauty danced through his mind. When he turned, she was already lost in the crowd. Try as he might he could no longer discern the sound of those footsteps from that of the rest of the crowd. He must have imagined it. He thought perhaps the heat was getting to him as he made his way back to the office.
He wandered through the lobby, ignoring the chuckling group of girls that wouldn’t give him the time of day, sharing an elevator with a woman he’d taken out last month who didn’t seem to remember his name. He sat at his desk trying to recapture the moment of magic he’d felt outside, trying to remember if he’d ever felt it before.
His reverie was broken by the giant face of Martin popping over the wall of his cubicle.
“Are you sure you’re ok with that piece of crap? We could set you up with a Mac.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Brought back to reality, he returned to the screen.
“You just looked sort of troubled, and I figured Windows was giving you grief….”
-------------------------------------------------
Wondering exactly when his job description had been rewritten to include errand boy, Jon tried to balance the large box and umbrella in the pouring rain as he locked his car door. A sudden gust of wind tugged the umbrella from his hand and into the sky. With a sigh he started to walk across the parking lot, mentally calculating just how soaked he would be by the time he reached the building.
She was beautiful. She walked with confidence. She was obviously out of his league. He’d readily taken her silent offer to share her large umbrella, and they crossed the parking lot without exchanging a word. Jon thanked her at the door, and, in spite of his cumbersome package, held it for her.
As he signed in with the secretary, he heard, again, the rhythm of her footsteps, no longer overpowered by the sound of rain. He saw them laughing over dinner, planning trips, fighting over bills, putting children to bed. He saw her enchanting eyes looking at him longingly. He saw his opportunity vanishing with a whirl of dark hair as she turned a corner.
By the time he reached the hallway he had seen her enter, she had vanished. He spent almost an hour wandering, lost before remembering job, package, and secretary. She had no kind words for the young man who had practically run from her, leaving a giant, wet mass of cardboard on her counter. She certainly hadn’t noticed any girl and wouldn’t have helped him find her if she did.
Jon decided not to go out. He’d found what he was looking for and he didn’t desire the company of any other woman that night. He wanted her, but he settled for the next best thing, which he always did alone.
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“Don’t tell me you’re too busy for this kind of thing now? I know you don’t need the inspiration or anything,” said Allen, “but I could use the company.”
He was very wrong. Inspiration was just what Ruth desperately needed. She’d always thought her work was good, and sold a poem every so often. Then she’d had that strange, silent walk with that strange, silent man. For a time, her verse was suddenly on fire. She didn’t know why, but her work had attained a new depth and beauty.
This creative burst was followed by commercial success. In a few days her first collection would be released as Under the Umbrella: Infinite Possibilities. Everything in it was written during that same month. Everything she had written since then felt flat by comparison.
“It isn’t that I don’t want to go,” she pushed her floundering career from the forefront of her mind. “Don’t you think Lizzy will be a bit jealous?”
“Let’s just say that Lizzy and I didn’t work out. Anyway, I have to do a piece on this exhibit, don’t make me go alone.”
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The gallery opening wasn’t huge. The crowd was large enough to get lost in without feeling packed in, which was what Ruth did as soon as she could. She and Allen had always been good friends, but sometimes she just couldn’t stand to be near him. Sometimes she thought one of them must be from another planet. She wasn’t sure which planet or even who was the alien.
As soon as they had arrived, he’d declared the paintings to be “just a bunch of silly colors thrown on canvas.” How could he not see the exquisiteness of each stroke? This one full of pain and loss, the next piece full of hope. Each one powerful and beautiful.
She stopped before the main piece in the show. She tried to catch her breathe. She knew that somehow this mass of lines and colors was her. How could anyone capture her so well? The plaque said Kismet Slips.
“So,” she heard Allen’s voice beside her, “all of these are dedicated to an ex-girlfriend?”
“No. A lost love that never was,” said a not quite familiar voice. “I’m sure it sounds crazy, but these were all inspired by a girl that I never knew.”
Ruth turned to see the familiar frame of a man facing away from her.
“I only saw her once, and she didn’t so much as say hello. Somehow she made me feel…” he gestured at the painting. “Well you can see how she made me feel.”
“Do you think she’ll like your work?” asked Allen.
Ruth stepped between them and said, “She loves it. She thinks it’s almost as beautiful as you are.”
Jon started to say something, though he wasn’t at all sure what he wanted to say. She touched a finger lightly to his lips and then ran that same hand through his curls. He bent down to kiss her waiting lips.
posted
heh, i guess that's just the way it was ment to be
now who's going to do zan? every one i start for him ends in tragedy. i don't know why. he just never gets the girl.
Posts: 3956 | Registered: Jun 2001
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posted
Ok, I've got one that doesn't involve Zan's death, or dissappointment. Go me! I don't think it's quite PG, but it's closer than coil's was
--------------------------------------------------- Zan sat moping on the barstool, still in chainmale. The rest of his armor was with his horse and his weapons in the castle. He had wandered away from the flock of pages in the middle of being undressed. He had needed a drink.
When would he learn to pay attention? He’d wandered from one tournament to the next for years now, and this had never happened before. Jousting meant a few days stay at a castle, with ample supply of food and drink and a bit of fun on the field. Sometimes you did well, and you made a bit of money.
Ok, Zan always did well. He took a great deal of pleasure in handling his long sturdy lance and watching the antics of those who couldn’t. He lived for the crowds, the celebration, and the anticipation of the next challenge. He didn’t care what the actual prize was, and now he was in trouble. The prize had been the king’s daughter.
A rather attractive barmaid handed him another ale and asked what was the matter.
“I’m getting married tomorrow.”
“I do hope that whoever I marry is merrier than you the night before.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it,” he said as patted her supple bottom. “Looking like that, any man would be a fool to not be happy as a playful puppy over you.”
She blushed as she sat down beside him, leaning in a bit to give him a better view. “Why are you so sad about your own wedding?”
“Because I’m being forced into it by the king. Did you know he made his own daughter the prize for this tournament at the castle? A woman shouldn’t be a prize!”
He watched her chest heave with a deep, long breathe. He wondered how much more strain the strings on her corset could take. She put a hand on his thigh, and he knew he’d be finding out soon.
“Why did you enter the competition if you didn’t want the prize?” she whispered, nibbling on his ear.
“I didn’t know what the prize was, I just like the challenge,” he sighed as he lifted her from the stool and carried her up to his room.
He awoke in the first light of dawn, alone. He was still a bit exhausted from the nights activities, but he knew he had to go now if ever. He wondered where the woman had gone and if he might be able to find her and bring her along. He wondered what her name was.
A knock at the door and he knew it was too late. A guard came in and handed him a note from the king. I know that some people feel the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the service, but you didn’t need to go to the inn. There’s plenty of room in the castle.
He let himself be led back to the castle. He wouldn’t have gotten far without his horse anyway. He let them dress him up and lead him to the service.
“…I take thee, Kristine in Holy…”
He told himself that at least this way, he could be near that inn and maybe spend another few evenings with that insatiable beauty.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
The moment he’d been dreading was here, he lifted the veil, bracing himself for whatever was beneath it, not at all prepared for the face of the barmaid. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Still in shock, he could only stare at her.
“You didn’t know that the kingdom comes with the king's daughter, did you?” she said. “If you had wanted me for the thrown, I would have slit your throat last night.”
posted
Colorful. Been lurking in this thread for a while, but that's a topper. ::golf clap::
My wife reads the romances in our family, but I've been trying to get her to mix our love of SF with Romance (that she is very good at). There is a big market for that particular marraige right now.... ::$$$$::
Posts: 2506 | Registered: Jul 2003
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posted
i'm not sure if i should be embarrased by the large amount of praise for me on this page or if i should demand that hail smilie be used whenever i am addressed.
I would write one for you, but I'm like the RoboADD writer - once I've done something enough times, I lose interest and then my brain simply won't let me continue.
However, it's been long enough since the last one that I could attempt to write one for you, though it will probably be the epitome of suck.
Name your man-meat, Dragon. Posts: 7600 | Registered: Jan 2001
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I figured with all the love/matchmaker/new couples and such, this thread deserved a good resurrection.
Posts: 9754 | Registered: Jul 2002
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posted
Then why not jumpstart it with our exchange from last night, Sweetcheeks?
quote:T_Smith: man, I need to find something to care about.
Lalo: Why Sweetcheeks, I thought you'd never propose.
T_Smith: Alas Eddie, if but our love were true and not a charade, perhaps things would be different between. But, as is our fate, we are doomed forever to be entangled in this sea of jokes and continuing laughs, never having any...
T_Smith: time to admit to ourselves, and I fear, each other, that there is nothing for us to thrive on
T_Smith: In otherwords, sure thing, Pimp Daddy
Lalo: Hush, darling, speak with the passion in your breast, not the caution in your mind. Our love transcends such mortal trivialities as race and class and creed.
T_Smith: What about car insurances?
Lalo: Our love is meant to surpass the length of time, our hearts meant to pour more passion than the capacity of the great lonely seas -- our eyes, once met, can never again turn from each other and call others by any other title but stranger. Sweet Sweetcheeks, forever I will love you from afar, longing only for the slightest whisper of your name on the wind so my heart's solitude will be reminded of our glorious passion and enrich my sorrow for your absence.
T_Smith: You come from a world of Geico, whereas I am but stuck upon the mortal coil of All State
T_Smith: ::blinks::
T_Smith: ::sigh::
T_Smith: Stop, for my heart can bear no more strain, listening to what once never was. Speak ye the desires taht I can not face? Nay, I say unto thee, for I live in the moment, surpassed by desire for love that shall never be, yet presents itself
Lalo: Your sweet babble is but indicative of the passion that garbles your speech and softens your wits, young Sweetcheeks. Never fear, I shall never leave you, nor shall our passion ever slacken or wither -- such a love as ours was never meant for lesser endings, but only a climax with the strength of toppling Olympus itself, my love.
T_Smith: Speak ye softly, for my good mother strains to stare into your heart, and deny our love.
Lalo: Tell thy mother that our love is pure, indeed, purer than the most virtuous maiden's heart and youngest babe's mind. And yet, also dirtier than a toilet after I've eaten Chinese food. Burp.
posted
Oh, Nathan, sweetie, I can't beleive you're not using those talents to woo and win someone at your school...
Posts: 26077 | Registered: Mar 2000
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posted
Alas, tis but my fate that all the fine young lasses in the sea of hormones that has become my life, have already been claimed, and their treasure chests have been emptied. Fear not, for there is booty on other islands, waiting to be claimed.
Posts: 9754 | Registered: Jul 2002
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Printer-friendly view of this topic
![[Smile]](smile.gif)
![[Angst]](graemlins/angst.gif)
![[Kiss]](graemlins/kiss.gif)
for good measure
![[Hat]](graemlins/hat.gif)
![[Hail]](graemlins/hail.gif)
![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
![[Razz]](tongue.gif)
![[Cry]](graemlins/cry.gif)
![[Frown]](frown.gif)
![[Wink]](wink.gif)
![[ROFL]](graemlins/rofl.gif)
There's a double entendre if I've ever heard one!
