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Trip Stories Contest


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#81 Guest_ten_*

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Posted 11 October 2002 - 12:16 PM

thanks, oletimer.

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#82 Guest_allmanbrother_*

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Posted 11 October 2002 - 11:13 PM

well groin,i shoulda wrote the story about you..thats funny as hell man...ill relay that to ten...you boys may be kin(thats related....)ha...we should talk...abPosted Image

#83 Guest_micheal_*

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Posted 12 October 2002 - 01:16 AM

that was f'n great doctor, i could almost feel your trip... sharing in your metaphysical existence Posted Image

#84 Guest_glasshoppa_*

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Posted 12 October 2002 - 10:52 PM

<FONT COLOR="119911">That was excellent.</FONT> Posted Image

#85 Guest_glasshoppa_*

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Posted 12 October 2002 - 11:00 PM

<FONT COLOR="119911">You missed your calling, Eyebooger. Ought to have been a writer. Posted Image</FONT>

#86 Guest_glasshoppa_*

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Posted 12 October 2002 - 11:10 PM

<FONT COLOR="119911">JP I expected nothing less from you. Ha! How the hell am I supposed to pick the best of these? They're all so fucking good. Dammit, I wish I had entered.</FONT>

#87 Guest_glasshoppa_*

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Posted 12 October 2002 - 11:15 PM

<FONT COLOR="119911">Very good!</FONT> Posted Image

#88 Guest_glasshoppa_*

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Posted 13 October 2002 - 12:00 AM

The vignette is difficult to write well, but you've done it, TC. Posted Image

#89 Guest_the_*

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Posted 13 October 2002 - 08:20 AM

I'm jealous...I used to try to write, but I could never think of anything cool to write about. Great idea for a story!!!

#90 Guest_the_*

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Posted 13 October 2002 - 08:27 AM

I wish shakespere would have given translations in his works.

#91 Guest_º•eos•º_*

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Posted 15 October 2002 - 03:49 PM

Hello! I know that the short story contest is over, but I figured I'd post this poem I wrote for school anyway for fun...
----------------------------------------------------

In the heat and darkness they'll stay,
Like children they must wait to play.

Streams of silver ever expanding,
Marching on their souls demanding.

Feeding on nature's expectoration,
Waiting for the reanimation.

Human mind, cold and blind,
Once ready and able, no longer unstable.

Once dampened clouds are born again,
expanding truths of simple men.

----------------------------------------------------
Thanks,
The ever-Stoic KnightPosted Image

#92 ion

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Posted 17 October 2002 - 05:39 PM

Here's a little story my buddy wrote. Please don't spread it around, folks (He doesn't want to get popped or nailed for plagiarism on his own work Posted Image

<CENTER>The Sacred Hunt</CENTER>
I come to unearth the sacramental flesh, to hunt for San Isidro. A tenebrous presence pervades this place. It beckons to me like a teacher, hungry for a mind to fill. This is the call of the téonanacatl, the ephemeral beings of divine epiphany—a coruscation of fire in the seething storm of consciousness. I sit in my idling car aside this eroded country path. The beads of water transfix my eyes as they meld and grow turgid, splintering fulgurous rivulets across the windshield. Through this vitreous membrane, I see the bent and waterlogged fenceposts lazily hanging their ancient wires along the periphery of the grazing field. I stifle the softly rumbling engine. The moist upholstery, emanating stale cigarette smoke and alkali road dust, warms beneath my tired rump. Tugging the smooth bolt handle, I push the unwieldy metal door open, and slip out of the car. The door latches with a labored “thunk” behind me. The morning air is ripe with humidity. The cool drizzling rain dampens my flannel shirt, tempting the musk from its fibers. Absently rubbing my weary eyes to stimulate the flow of brine and phosphene, I walk across the gravel shoulder to the trunk. I fumble with my jangling keys, sliding one into the tarnished lock. Inside this traveling bunker, a tangle of rope chokes the spare tire and bottles of oil nestle under a brown paper sack. I snatch the bronzy bag, shut the trunk lid, and commence the sacred hunt.

Careful not to spur myself, I stretch the coarse, tetanus-infected barbwire. My hands itch with scabrous flecks of rust as I scoop through the rickety fence. A line of sapling birch and aging oak, their broad leaves bowing low in the gloom, breaks my pace into the fallow field beyond. Lithely as I may, I scuttle amid the raspy wood. Emerging from the windbreak, I slowly scan the vastness that lies before me. Here, in this hallowed heath, I will find San Isidro. Surreal patches of darkness dot the sloping verdant landscape; their makers, the Brahman cattle, trundle through the pastoral grasses, grazing. A ruddy calf waddles to his mother, a rotund beast languidly wrenching the lush ryegrass from the earth. He nuzzles her swollen udder, thirsting for a breakfast of fresh milk. She merely lifts her interest, then begrudgingly huffs in acquiescence. Reverence consumes me as I watch these venerable creatures. They show no disquiet for my presence, continuing their simple existence. A curious miasma of rain, soil, and compost inundates my olfactory senses. The morning breeze, shifting through the surrounding forest, rings of distant waterfalls. Abruptly, a glimmer of white snares my attention—San Isidro, the “one who speaks”. I hike down the rolling hill toward the luminous mark, my legs soaking cold with dew.

As I near the moldering plop of dung, I see the familiar coloration of my quarry—a deep golden umber, rimmed with faint azure. I promptly squat to inspect the plump little fungus that is stridently sprouting atop the rich, fertile mound. The umbonate, mildly undulating head balances askew the ample, striated stalk. Thin fins of violet black radiate underneath the fleshy bulb. This stately beauty contrasts sharply with the ashen waste from which it arose. I pause. Tenderly, I grasp the base. I feel the sumptuous flesh give way as I pull the empyrean manna from its corporeal root. I gingerly brush the excrement from its foot; silken threads interlaced with sundry particles tumble away. Taking a breath, I lightly waft the iridescent dust from its tenuous ribs. Silvery cordons of encapsulated life sublime into the wind. I place the deliquescent dumpling in my furrowed sack with a rustle, and stand, my extending knees crackling in objection to the effort. Almost immediately, I spy another of these corpulent morsels only a few feet away. I continue the search with fervor; my aching legs thrust into the spongy earth, propelling my body through the glade. Bits of grass and spots of mud swathe my lower extremities. My fingers stain a telltale indigo and the nails become lined with bitter grime. At last, when my purse is virtually bursting with the tawny fruit, I look to a brightening sky with content. The balmy air tastes of sweet honeydew. A deep breath titillates the cilia and invigorates the blood. I commence my crossing of the green, homeward bound. The sack is pleasantly heavy, like a pillow of down. A brisk gust of wind ruffles through my hair, tingling on my scalp and sending a gooseflesh shiver across my skin. My hunt for San Isidro has come to a felicitous consummation. Nearing the line of trees at the edge of the field, I hear the swish of tires over wet asphalt as a farmer’s truck passes by. I wend between the stalwart timbers and spiny cables, and traipse onto the crunching gravel. The road stretches out before me, an embodiment of the nomadic mantra: I have come far, but there is so much more to see. Posted Image

#93 Guest_hippie3_*

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Posted 17 October 2002 - 07:23 PM

damn, ion,
what, did you get a vocabulary for christmas ?
had to grab a dictionary to read this,
but worthwhile it was.

#94 ion

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Posted 17 October 2002 - 07:59 PM

LOL! Naw, Hip. I usually don't write this way for obvious reason. All of those big words are in my little brain, but they are certainly not effectually conversational. I don't like to freak people out, but somtimes an English professor demands it...Posted Image

-ion

#95 sxldv8

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Posted 18 October 2002 - 02:45 PM

4 star!! Truley enjoyed your command of the language.Great flow in your writing. Felt myself there with you. Very good read thank you.

#96 ion

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Posted 19 October 2002 - 11:18 PM

Posted Image{blushing}

Thanks!

-ion

#97 Guest_hippie3_*

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Posted 20 October 2002 - 10:20 AM

thank you.
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#98 Guest_hippie3_*

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Posted 17 June 2003 - 05:37 PM

ok, i have ~ 5 grams of salvia 5x, courtesy of bouncingbear,
which i want to give away.
here's the deal.
i want trip stories,
a great revelation or adventure- that kind of thing.
whoever writes the best,
wins.
we'll let this contest run 15 days,
winner will be picked by popular vote of the membership here.
let the games begin.

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#99 Guest_flo_*

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Posted 17 June 2003 - 07:09 PM

Great contest! Posted Image

I'll try and burn some herbs and offer some oranges to the muse.

#100 Guest_polly_*

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Posted 17 June 2003 - 09:00 PM

i was outside getting stoned when suddenly i noticed how beautiful the clouds were. it looked like a man flying towards me.he was wearing a robe that was shaded by the sun and he had a cape. his eyes were cloud blue and he looked like that picture that michaelangelo had painted of god parting the waters. his hands high out in front of him. his fingers stiff with anticipation.just clouds though. then i started talking to it. i called it father then i said "mother father other what ever you are show me i am going the right way". so i wait. nothing. so i say "it's spring you could let bee pollen fall in my cupped hands or let a leaf fall in it. you could push the wind to send something to me".i cup my hands and sort of half close my eyes and concentrate. stuff is falling everywhere but not in my hands.so i let my hands down and then a leaf falls right were my hands would have been. then i walked out into the yard. i noticed a dandelion that had dried and balled up in the sun. none of the seeds hand been blown off by the wind. i assumed it was strong. i picked it up and i could feel ants biting me. so i ran back to the steps and beat the ants off my feet. i sat down and looked at the dandelion. a mathematical diagram more beautiful than anything michaelangelo ever accomplished. it was like looking at a dodecahedron in 3d on the silver screen for three days with your eyes sewed open.so i talked softly to them. i told them i needed all of them to fly off and that i would get a wish if they all flew. at first they were scared. they were afraid of the lawn mower and that bugs would eat them. i told them how their mother had loved all of them and wanted them to experience the wonders of life. that we could not live forever. that we had to find each other and love each other for as long and as hard as we can because we have so little time on this earth together. i told them if they needed anything they just had to let me know and i would help them. i thought i had them convinced so i kissed them and loosed a few of the brave ones with my kisses. they instantly flew into the air like eagles. the bravery of the others was building. so i blew. everyone of the dandelion seeds flew into the air singing. i closed my eyes and wished with all my heart.and opening my eyes i looked down at the dandelion stem. so mangled and beautiful. such a wonderful fulfilled life. "i grow yellowy beautiful and all the children love me" she said. "the bees adore me. they tell me i am beautiful and i make love to them all day" she said. and i thought "you know i could probably reach out my hand with the dandelion stem and make it sprout again. it would grow new leaves and roots and the flower would kind of close and open instantly like the sun". i held out my hand and i grew nervous and didn't even try to make that fantasy come true. i wimped out i guess. and then, right then, as i was holding the dandelion stem out like a wand a bee flew onto the end of the stem and weighed it down. it curled forward. i had my proof. then god remembered where he put his car keys and we all went home for coffee and oral sex.


xoxo
polly




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