[spaceghost22]

Originally Posted by Smoking Moose

Why don't you aspiring writers test your skills here?
https://www.icmag.com/ic/showthread.php?t=106978

Sure, that could be fun. I was hoping for something with more of a dynamic. That post is cool but it's too focused on something a some of us may or may not want to write about. Here we will expand into whatever so fetches our fancy. Here we can write about ANYTHING in any style, so long as that style is like the story in that link, creative. All within some constraints of course, to grant structure and assure quality reading/writing.

Originally Posted by guineapig

I wrote a play for ICmag......but perhaps a more focused and deliberate literary effort is what you are envisioning?

Anyway, my play is called "George W Bush Meets George Washington:"

https://www.icmag.com/ic/showthread.php?t=16547

Enjoy!!!

kind regards from guineapig

Oh my, we've earned the attentions of a GURU! What a rather rare instance... At least for me. Thank you much for stopping by guineapig. My mother used to have two of you. Fritz and Natalia. Rather sweet animals they were.

No, by no means whatsoever, your play is fine! I like it's title, it does captures the attention for sure. Perhaps in a moment or some hours I'll check it out. (EDIT: I checked it out and it was an entertaining read. I liked the focus!)

Thank you all for stopping in! So far I'm beginning to enjoy the turnout! Everyone seems to have open enough minds for this to work. We'll soon be taxiing down the runway!

...just need some more of that input... Gnome-sayin'?

[kmk420kali]

Here is my deleted story...I know it ain't much...just thought it was humorous at least--lol

Mr President, it is time for your speech to the UN, his top aide said.
As they walk into the room you can feel the expectation in the air... as all were called to this emergency UN Council in the middle of the night at the request of the President of the United States of America...not a request to be taken lightly.
As all are seated, The President asked that all Representatives of the Nations of the World please direct their attention to their Translators...to close their eyes for a moment, and cleanse their mind of all outside influence...all distractions.....to open your mind in this moment of crisis...to let your bodies relax...and start to feel mellow....mellow...mellll-loooo........and as all attending are in a completely relaxed state.... the President twists the volume knob on his mic to max..."AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!" he screamed into the mic--
"President Chong!!! That was...was...well, actually Mr President...it got me... HOT!!", said Secretary of State Linda Lovelace.
"Oh don't worry, that was just the sub-woofer vibrating your throat..." The President quipped.
So after the ambulances left with the multiple heart attack/stroke victims from the scare....
"Mr President, The uprising in Colombia has reached the point that something has to be done-- You have successfully put the Druglords out of business by the Drug Legalization Act last year. But they are now using their vast fortunes to mount a world-wide movement against you, for putting so many 3rd world countries into Economical Turmoil." said a voice from the 3rd row.
President Chong bristled at this comment, "Mr Bush, I will thank you to NOT make a public statement from facts you have had the opportunity to learn while waiting tables!! Now please get out of that chair, and get back to work! And one more thing! Tell your dad to get my car ready for me in 15 minutes!"
The President had pardoned Ex-President Bush for Crimes against Humanity, after his brutal invasion of the terrorist ridden States of Wisconsin, Connecticut, and Oregon in late 2008. After which he was caught running brothels for the people he enslaved in the "Purification". So he is now required to do 10 years of Community Service at The White House...and his dad backs him all the way.
Tommy Chong sits behind the Presidential Seal, although sometimes he ducks behind it, out of sight...to sit up coughing....
"Ok", said the Prez, as he preferred to be called, "Now, to the matter at hand... The uprising in Colombia has reached the point that something has to be done-- I have successfully put the Druglords out of business by the Drug Legalization Act last year. But they are now using their vast fortunes to mount a world-wide movement against me, for putting so many 3rd world countries into Economical Turmoil."
Mr Bush silently rolls his eyes, as he pushes his squeeky cart of empty Tequila bottles from the meeting.
"But Tommy," The Attorney General started "Those punk-ass biotches have no power to play us like dat!! Shizznit... we be poopin' caps in they asses...and if they wannna get up close and personal, I'll bust em upside the melon with my 2 footer...7 mils thick, lethal shit mang..."
The Prez chuckles at the Attorney General. "Yeah man, I hear that...I know you got my back, Snoop...but what I plan to do is to bring them all together FOR me."
The place erupts in a thunder of voices as shocked members of the UN start shouting at him, all in different languages...which made the Prez giggle.

[spaceghost22]

kmk420kali, President Bush seems to be the focus of a few works posted here on the site. Not surprising if you ask me, he makes for countless jokes, plays, videos, spoofs and now short-stories! Thanks for posting this

hunt4genetics, our first member, asked a question of ICMag for input for his own Sci-Fi material. If I remember correctly he wanted to do short stories. Whatever. I think it would be cool if we all recommend two books and vote for one which we all will read (within two weeks I say, to keep it moving)

There are so many books that I've read and loved that have slipped from my memory. There were so many underrated, brilliant stories it's ridiculous. It really goes to show you how literature is often overlooked these days.

Ok, so I have a few basic suggestions for the group. Lets get a standard going. What do you all think of this?...

1) We link this thread in our sig (This will enrich our member pool).

1) Click the 'User Menu' selection from the green bar at almost the topmost part of the page.

2) A drop-down box will appear, right-click the 'Edit Signature' and select 'Open in New Tab'. A new window will open with the signature editing box open for you.

3) Highlight everything below and then hit 'Ctrl+C' then select the window with the sig. editing box. Click the box to make sure it's selected (you should see a blinking cursor). Now hit 'Ctrl+V' to paste it into your editing box. MAKE SURE TO ADD A [ TO THE BEGINNING OF THE SELECTION AND A ] TO THE END. BEFORE THE URL=, AND AFTER THE /URL.


URL=https://www.icmag.com/ic/showthread.php?p=2053511#post2 053511]The ICMag Writers Group/Circle[/URL

4) Click the 'Save Signature' button and we're all done!

2) We compile a list of everyone's favorite Sci-Fi books (2 books per member to keep the list relatively short. Otherwise this could eventually turn out to be a lot of reading itself. We have to review them all first!)

3) We all review the titles on the net and vote for one book to read and then hold a discussion afterword, perhaps in the chat room?

4) We then dive into a short story writing segment!


Here is a smalll selection of my favorites that I can remember. Both of these books came HIGHLY RECOMMENDED by some highly adept readers. 500+ pages per day, or alternatively PPD.

ORYX AND CRAKE by Margaret Atwood- Oryx and Crake is a novel with dystopian elements by Canadian author Margaret Atwood. Like The Handmaid's Tale, the book is often categorized as science fiction novel, but Atwood herself prefers to label it speculative fiction and "adventure romance" because it does not deal with 'things that have not been invented yet'[1] and goes beyond the realism she associates with the novel form[2]. Oryx and Crake was first published by McClelland and Stewart in 2003 and was also shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for Fiction that same year.. MY FAVORITE 9.1 out of 10

YEARS BEST SCI-FI - Compilations of GREAT Sci-Fi short stories covering every angle of humanity and technology/Science. Simply breath taking... all 9.5 out of 10

So what do you all say? I say post your books, I'll set up a vote and then we'll have to worry about book availability. It may well be that we might have to do a little scanning (debatable, I don't mind reading ebooks or scanning new ones in, I rather like taking the time to do this. It becomes a meditation in patience for me. Rather profound!) so everyone has a temporary copy. Lets get organized and get this boat flying! Come on, let's get serious!

LETS GET THIS DISCUSSION GOING!

[kmk420kali]

How is this for a Theme..."Your deepest Depths of Disparity--"
This is a window into mine, I was a Heroin Addict for 18 years...I have been off it now for 13, come Feb--

"Fuck!!", was all Jim could think, as the police car pulled up on him walking out of the back door of the Irvine warehouse at 3 in the AM....
Is it ever going to be better than this?? I think not, as I am once again going through the humiliating experience of being processed into Chino State Prison...standing naked, with the other 150 lost souls, ranging from drug addicts to murderers.
After a mere 2 weeks before, sitting on a bus bench on Christmas Day, strung-out, cold...watching the families driving by in their clean, new cars...all smiling and acting as if life was a joy. Wishing I had someplace to go, people that would want to see me...I could only look on with a mixture of sadness and a need for heroin...always THAT...the "Black Hole" of my Universe...sucking in everything in its path.
But now, getting ready to be printed, and anxious for a shower...since it was at that time that we got our Jumpsuit, and I was very DONE with standing cold and naked with a bunch of guys!
Finally get through that...and traded my shoes for 3 "Rollies", then smoked one with a guy that had a lighter.
We get through Intake, and they put me in Madrone Hall, in the middle of all the cells, they have "Temporary" bunks for overcrowding (I have been in these same "Temporary" bunks 3 times in the last 7 years...*Sigh*)
I am still kicking, and spending most of my time in the bathroom dry-heaving. Guys are trying to be nice to me, giving me coffee, and ciggs...but I think they just thought I was gonna die.
Chow time...I haven't been able to eat in over a week...Maybe I can get something down this time...
I come back from chow, hungry...but I got 2 rollies for my dinner!
A week later, I can eat, my hands have stopped shaking, and I start drawing again...Suddenly I am "The Man"...I draw portraits, write poems for guys to claim as their own...I am a champion Pinochole player...I find myself suddenly (and repetedly) at the Higharchy of Prison Politics... I have a job in there, I am the Lieutenant's Clerk, responsible for an incredible amount of paperwork, keeping schedules-- I think in the back of my mind..."Why is it when I am in here, I seem to get my shit together so well, be so responsible... but out there, I always seem to fail...."
Finally...Parole day-- I am in R&R, got my Dress-Outs...have my $200 gate money in my pocket, and they drop us off at the Greyhound station. I pull into Anaheim about 4 in the afternoon, call the Connect...tell him I am out-- Well, they know I am good for a couple hundred a day, so they take care of me the first week.
The second week I start stealing again...fucking bastards stopped kicking me down...don't they know who I think I am??

[spaceghost22]

kmk420kali, thank you for putting our link in your sig, this will help enrich the environment. I like the theme, as the only other voter I say let's do it. That is a very nice portrait of the incarceration scene. Unfortunately I've been there myself, albeit not to prison but county jail. I spent 6 months for possession of marijuana, paraphernalia and abscounding court for a charge I do not agree with. I remember it well. If I came out changed or anything it was because I walked out with a little less fear, a lot more knowledge and lot less to lose with only time on my hands. Anyway, I did enjoy the read for sure. Is this a work in progress? Would you like more feedback or are you fine?

And how would you feed about reading a book to examine some aspects of writing? Perhaps you know of a rare jewel which society has overlooked? I love when someone recommends a forgotten or lost masterpiece.

hunt4genetics, are you still following along with us? This may not be Sci-Fi, but perhaps there is something to be learned from kmk420kali on the subject of perspective. He really does have that. This is a rather good description of what most here would call "the system". This is as mechanized as it gets, blending machina with humanity in a way perhaps you could model off of?

Would you like for me to share my experiences within walls and a little before? Well I will anyway! :smile:

Before I post this I would like to ask another question of the members. Do you think it would be better to integrate book-club like aspects into the circle to exemplify proper writing habits etc? If not I'll open another thread for that, in fact I think I may anyway. It's late, I'm tired and I just spent the last hour or so typing. I need a break and some sleep.

So I hope you all enjoy reliving my old life with me. This is not who I am but a large part of what has forged me.... Without further ado, I present to you, ME!

[spaceghost22]

THEME; "Your deepest Depths of Disparity"


To avoid as much confusion as possible, as I myself am often confused, I will state preemptively that I was born in Michigan, moved to Wisconsin, moved to Minnesota, moved back to Wisconsin and now am living once again on the Northern shores of Michigan.

This post is a considerably long but nice read. Make a pot of coffee and smoke a joint to this then think quietly to yourself after the reading. Please be thankful for what you have and know that there is always a chance in our lives where things could potentially be much worse...

Input and constructive criticism are requested...

Again, without further ado... I give you, in part, the shaping of spaceghost22.



At some point I had decided not to risk staying with friends anymore seeing as most of mine had been and were going to prison at the time. It really hadn't occurred to me until respectively much later in life that we really, really are who we 'hang with'. If anyone's case would be THE case in point here, it very well could be mine. At the point in my life where the meat of the following takes place I am 22 or 23, poor, 5' 11”, 150lbs, recovering from a crack addiction and the veteran of the Drug War and the new series of wars on the Middle East, both in Afghanistan and Iraq. Perhaps this could be another story for another time. Once I was a soldier. Does this sound familiar to you?

I mostly grew up in a modest, blue collar beer drinking town I shall furthermore refer to as Brookings. My childhood home belonged to my grandparents. It was a small place nestled on the blustery shores of North America's largest lake known to the Anishinaabe natives as Gitchigumi. My early life in the North was, and always will be starkly defined by the killer winters. All else is relative to the harsh, freezing, cold fusion-like wintery Hell. These days I can recall a few instances where I nearly lost my life to exposure, which is also regarded by the natives as 'freezing to death'. This can further be fit into many finer classifications if you'll wish, but for now I'll spare you the drudgeries of the Northern finite. Also for right now I can only wonder how many of the futures children shall inwardly ask of themselves, “Why would my parents want to live in a place like this?”

I recall falling through the ice once as a child. I can only describe the incident as I know it. It may not be how it really is and perhaps it's all left for the beholder. You must understand that it is very intense and things of this nature tend to warp in ones mind. In my mind it's more a case of either you know what I mean when I say “fall through the ice”, or not. For everyone else I'll report on it as accurately as I can. It's a massive sensory explosion. It's an icy blitz forcing all warmth up through the body starting at the feet. Cold crushes you when at these extremes. In slow motion you will watch as the world grows taller around you and the realization of the thing sets in when the ice comes up and you go down. It is very cold. A ice victim looses breath to the waters. It's a very scary, highly lethal ordeal which none should ever have to attend. The ice doesn't loose it's grip until well after you're out of it. The wind will shred heat from you as though you don't own it, like it isn't yours to have. In short I'll say that I escaped with ONLY moderate hypothermia and had I not been with the one human being, a sparse 80lb boy, this reality I know would have had a much different, much less of an impact on everyone who I've collided with throughout the years. I was rescued for the second or third time in my life.

I'll touch on only the necessary to hasten the correspondence. My family was shredded by the drug war and I was nearly abandoned. My biological father was a veteran of the Vietnam war and grew medicinal marijuana while I was still in the womb. This, of course, was not acceptable to my mother. She was the daughter and sister to two teachers. She was taught to do right by her parents and God so adopted most of what attitudes my grand-parents and our clergy held in this regard. In most every case it was extremely 'anti'. I've asked her out of concern for myself as to whether or not she ever tried any drugs and much to my surprise her answer to me was this;

“Yes. I didn't like it like the other people; My friends. I could never be OK with the feeling of being 'out of control'. I wanted to take charge of my life and that sort of thing didn't seem like it was going to take me there.”

I could and can still understand what she had said to me on that day. It really is a shame that for the next 4 years of my life she could not grant me one shred of the same understanding I gave to her. As could have easily been foreseen this line between us caused all sorts of abuse I shall not name here. Just know that in more that one war I can claim alumni. From this hideous crack in humanity sprouted great mistrust and anguish. I stole from my mother a time or two while feeding minor addictions to Riddlin and marijuana, but understandably it became much more to her than to I. Many a time I can remember my mother bursting into my room at 3AM on a school night yelling, “Where's my mother-FUCKING money you THIEF!?” I wasn't stealing the money at first (I eventually DID start stealing money from her as I was always being blamed and punished anyway). Later she usually would find the money in whatever place she last left it. I'm sure this added a bit of a twist to who I am, wouldn't you agree? Again, to make a long story short, this gap, crack or chasm between us was largely drug related in most all forms and fashion. In killing a paragraph let me also say that it was not marijuana which led me to crack-cocaine as much as it was marijuana which had led me from it.

Fast forwarding 6 years has me returning “home” to Wisconsin for the last time from Afghanistan, a cast on my arm mending a severely crushed wrist. It is raining when I land. I have tears of relief in my eyes as my mother comes to hug me, my fairly new step-father of 5 years watching, waiting to shake my hand. The other people beneath the airports awning are beginning to gather around us, listening and watching, waiting to shake my hand for my “service to my country”. I can only think that they are mislead like most Americans now. They really have no idea that I did no service to them at all, in fact it is to my personal belief that if anything I did a great DIS-service to them, but this is for another time. Getting back now, my shattered wrist never fully heals and because of this I am later fired from one career job building trusses.

To ensure the bills are paid I take a job where ever I can. I was hired in short order to take care of the disabled at a summer camp in Southern Minnesota. It was here that I meet my current or last ex girlfriend, whichever, time shall eventually tell this tale. Whatever, it was here, in my early 20's that I first felt the feathery touch of true love.

Time went on as it tends to do and my future began to cloud over with the unnamed. I slowly became the enemy of my own mind, no longer in control of it's throws or my own body at times. Untreated clinical depression turned bi-polar then paired with post traumatic stress disorder to beset me as both(I later found out that I had suffered PTSD since I was very young) took their toll. My life certainly became unmanageable. The job at the camp was, as I mentioned, seasonal and terminated later that fall. I then took a job working at a bagel shop which was just enough to pay for a room in a boarding house for a winter. I was really poor at this point and often ate at the Salvation Army. It was here that I met my promising new future in the Drug War. Crack was introduced to me here while I was in a very weak state. I began to use as it was provided mostly free to me. The high was like heaven while I was living in hell. The worst was yet at hand. I lost my job at the bagel shop due to myself and other employees taking liberty of the safe safe. I lost my room after a long, messy spat with my landlord(s). I could no longer take care of myself but I was all I had. My mother thought I dug my own hole and was not assuming a helping posture whatsoever. I was slipping and was very unlikely to get up.

I found my way into a loose organization of the young trying to make it in an unfair, brutal capitalist nation. We watched out for one another the best we felt like watching. We slept at friends houses and the Salvation Army. Sometimes we slept on the grass under bushes in the park. As was destined, we came into contact with the underbelly of America. The gangs sold us crack, ecstasy, Oxy-Contin and most everything we wanted so long as it had a hook. For whatever sins I committed the gangsters felt that they 'liked' me and let me into their hustle. I sat at round glass tables and watched as pounds of cocaine were mixed with water, ice and baking soda (not in order), given a stir and watched it “pond up”. While this went on I would pull watch duty at the drop house. While the cooking and biding to see who took and sold what I would watch the windows. They would pay me each time, twice a week with an '8 ball', or eighth of crack. Roughly $600 in product a week. I used every little bit of it.

Fast forwarding just a little bit finds me sitting at a table as the money is being counted. I'm hitting my pipe while $75,000 is being shuffled and stacked in piles all around. I've never seen this much money in person before and truth be told it was a scary situation. People kill for everything that I found myself surrounded by. I never thought for a minute about taking the money. I'm sure they would've shot me dead right there. From what I heard, I wouldn't have been the first to die in that house.

Not too long after the dealers moved locations to stay ahead of the man were they busted. In fact it was only the night before the raid that I was walking over to get a “bump” when I saw a man in a car with a listening device on his head pointing a dish directly at the house. My gut spoke to me then. I decided to walk past the house as though I had no involvement. It was in the process of doing so that I met with another who was inbound for crack. I stated my case in a very hurried voice and was largely ignored and cast aside as a crack-head always is, only needed for money. I'm sure those who served us would prefer us shot dead. In any case the house was raided the next day and I was now camping in a tent in the woods down by a river.

I had stayed at this camp site for close to a year with a few others who would come and go. One man stayed in a one man tent next to mine throughout the whole. He was a kind man of slender build in his mid 40's. He had an ex wife and three children who are still living in Milwaukee. Like most other people on this planet, he had his own routine. He had this routine nailed down as sure as a castle guard walks the walls every hour. It was like this; Early in the morning he would rise, always before me. He would take the last swill of vodka left from the night prior and head off into the morning sun on his bicycle to go and collect cans. You would find him collecting cans all throughout the day, rummaging through dumpsters and combing the allys, except for lunch and diner time where he could then be found sitting at my table in the Salvation Army. I used to love helping him find his cans. I would jump into the dumpsters and find all sorts of things, but this is neither here nor there. Shortly after dinner he would end his can run and would then be the proud new owner of a BRAND NEW FIFTH! Always 5 O' Clock Vodka. The stuff could kill the barnacles on the sides of ships, ick! But it was just another day in paradise, every day. The same thing everyday. This period brings to mind the movie Caddy Shack. And you know, as I'm sitting here reliving this in my mind I'm beginning to miss it all.

A summer gave in to fall which gave in to winter which gave in to a deceptive spring. Now as the dust settles and the nightmare wanes I can assemble the key instances which led to the death of my friend in this tent next to mine. There was at the time a junky who stayed in his own tent down the trail from where we were. He was at the time taking methadone to cull an addiction to junk. Somewhere along the line he ended up contacting my friend and gave him bunches of Xanax and methadone. I know this because the junky eventually told me everything. The law said it was exposure and burned his body before contacting the family. No autopsy. Doing some reading will bring one to the realization that barbiturates and opiates act on the same receptors in the brain, both acting to depress the central nervous system. One night my friend crossed the pills with the methadone and took both down with that fifth of Vodka. At the time this happened I had no idea about the details, I thought he froze. The temperatures that fateful night plunged unseasonably low and found my friend asleep on top of his covers with the tent flaps open, hands over chest, mouth agape and his heart rate and breathing highly depressed. At least this is how I imagined it happening when I found his bloated body there a few days later, rigor-mortis in full bloom. He was dead.

Time went on, my friend not forgotten and now it is my birthday. Much misfortune had beset me in prior years so I was having a good time no matter what anyone said. I can't recall the details, but I remember we were all drunk and my friends becoming too loud while we sat toking up beneath an old persons home. There was a pavillion decorated with tables and chairs. It was here that we decided to loiter. From the sidewalks we couldn't be seen. Too bad the same thing couldn't be said about being heard. As fate would have it one thing led to the next, my friends were too loud, the police descended upon us after an elderly called the man and I was in jail for the night.

I came to the next morning wearing Bob Barker orange. I asked the guard on duty, "What was the case?", and he said to me,

“Possession of marijuana and paraphernalia. Someone from the complex called you in on a noise ordnance violation. You will likely be released today.”, handing my tray of food he then walked on down the hall, hard 'clicking' noises reporting from his footsteps as they fell upon cold concrete. I took note of many things while I was there. I saw that one of my other friends was there with me. He was in another block but I could see him through the one-way windows into the hallway. I never spoke to him until both of us were free again.

So I'll be released, eh? What news was this? Oh joy! I shall yet remain free, this is good. The court kept good on the guards word. I was so glad. I didn't imagine that possession of less than an eighth was worth jail time, but whatever. I could give a rats ass anyway. So far as I was concerned I had already served all the time I thought this hell-hole country deserved. I WILL smoke my pot!

As it has an unmistakable knack of doing, time rolled incessantly on, so did the court system. It was once again my birthday and the law would again catch up to me after a two year hiatus. Come later I found out one of my "friends" had robbed the house I was sleeping at that night, the hosts roommates returned home to find computers, cameras, money and boots, BOOTS missing. They called the police while I was asleep and it was the Man who woke me. And so I was subsequently jailed. This time they maxed me out for my deliberate insult to the system and I caught a nine month sentence of which I served 6 for good behavior. I did my best to work the doctors and I made them sincerely believe that I was turning rapidly homicidal under the conditions. They prescribed to me one of the harshest tranquilizers available; Thorazine. I was put on thousands of mills a day. For a few months I only woke to eat and move to bed from the concrete floor. This was a sobering time for me. Being incarcerated was no fun, but now I know what I'm up against and I do not fear them. I know how they operate and I know they cannot break me. I still say they can get screwed.




The rest of the story from here will read very similarly to what kmk420kali has written. I'll stop now as my hands are getting cramps and the night is drawing to a close. I tried in part to bring to life a certain contrast. Not in the sense that I provide for you something which you can compare this work to, but I want to give you something which you can lay as an unfitting template over your own lives. As you sleep tonight think of all the victims of all the fucking wars we fight here in the self proclaimed “land of the brave”.

I tried to keep this work as professional as I can but now I am tired and the last half of the piece should in some sense show this. I do know I have a problem with punctuation and syntax some of the time. If you know of any tips or trick please let me know. I am open to criticism on this but please know that although the names are fictional and dates may be mixed a little, all of this is true. I'm doing this in response to kmk420kali's literary illustration of the incarceration experience. He told more of a tale from the inside whereas I traveled with you the road leading in.

May you all have a great day

Authors note: I was busted again before I left with a pipe but I decided they could go to HELL with my pipe. I left that state and returned home where no one can bother me. I live with family and am in the process of selecting a college to attend over the net.



(EDIT: This post will keep me busy for quite some time. Editing is a job never completed, always ongoing. This is my largest post and you can expect to see editing changes for a while to come! If you're reading this after reading all which was posted above, I wish to thankyou. I hope you enjoyed it as I put a bit of my time into this.)

Here's a pic of one of my friends. I took the shot.

i will read through this when i get the chance. you guys just might have convinced me to give it a go

-the burned po(e)t society hehe

i just want to wish you all a creative newyears eve

[spaceghost22]

Hey, thanks acticsun. I hope your New Year pans out as well.

I think if you like stories, you like to read and you like to write a little, you should post with us. Please, join us, become a member. We could use you. Also it wouldn't be bad having you advertise for us with your 300 posts! Join up, put our link in your sig and post away!

We'll be doing theme type writing I guess. One person starts and the rest respond. If no one objects I'll start the next round. I'll give everyone a chance to post under "Your deepest Depths of Disparity" for a while before I mix it up.

Have fun writing all!

[basscadet]

Great idea spaceghost22,

I'm a screenwriter from Australia... actually I found this site through procrastination during a tough writing session.

Your story is so well written i didn't notice any mistakes, always the sign of good writing when the story surpasses the words.

This thread idea helped me alot too, i found it and started writing something about depths of disparity, the first decent thing I'd written during a holiday writers block. After a few rewrites I'll have it up for all to read.

Sign me up!

Basscadet.

[barletta]

Space - That is an intense read, and props to you for every day that you don't use. LOL, I think that you were referencing the movie, 'Groundhog Day', not Caddyshack As far as syntax goes, just pay 2 or 3 friends to edit a finished copy. Looks pretty good. The writing is intense. I started reading, then stopped, thinking, ""I don't have the energy to put into this", but then I plowed through 2 paragraphs, next thing I know MY hands hurt a lil...

Yo, I'm in! Weed makes you do crazy things, so why not? LOL, in school I always hated writing (thank the nuns for CRUSHING my handwriting, and desire to write at all), but since I started growing, I have written an essay, a song and a haiku about weed. I'll leave the bio out, but here are the poem and song (verse, lol)

(both orig posted at the MrNice website)

Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the buildin'
All the mammals were chilly, but the plants - they were chillin.

Under a spectrum of light
some yellow, some blue,
Sweet buds slowly ripen
for me and for you

Of lemon, of pine, of skunk they stank
they cannot be rushed to give up the dank

Some for the night, the evening, the morning;
This Super Sillver Haze should come with a warning!

As I load up this bowl of summertime Spice,
I wish good vibes to the members, and to you MrNice!

Happy Holidays

And this:
Coated with silver resin
Purple white and green
She teaches patience

goes with this: