Thursday, November 10, 2005

Sooper-Dooper Mighty Morons of Word

I been revamping look of computer desktop, new wallpaper, etc. Took me back to DeviantArt that has certainly grown immensely since the beginning, 16 million items now.

They've added writing sections and the misspellings are Solid Gold, Ladies and Gents!

Try this:

The truck pulls away and she falls to her knees,
struggling between gasps of breath while holding her stomach.

He slides into the passenger seat of the army truck,
he wipes one sloemn tear from his cheek
and stairs west.

* "Stairs west" - something intensely poignant there (sloemn is good, too)

My other favourites, someone spelling pacing as paceing, second word of their literary effort

and, even better, "pensil" you have to laugh

it reminds me of someone who told me they met someone on internet once, asked their profession, and they replied:

"I am a riter"

That Wins! Gold Medal! Praise be to riters everywhere...

5 Comments:

Blogger Unsane said...

It gets worse. I wrote the following excellent parody of various female blogger sites (based upon such "literary successes" as Stephanie Klein and her ilk). These are a new-wave of female literary hopefuls who focus on their own relative failures or successes dating the opposite sex. Now, the feedback I'm receiving, although little, seems to suggest that many people read the following flowerly speech along with its psychological self-combustion as ... "true".

---

cruel concrete, crueler fate
A PARODY

This evening’s events began well, innocently and hopefully. I had a date with an immensely handsome and exceptionally witty boy who also happened to be a musician. I wanted to impress him with my new special dress, and I had applied fake tan, and my hair was all preened, superlatively so. I did sit at the table with him and he did offer me a light for my expensive tailored cigarette, and it was oh-so-gloriously romantic, because I did impress him with my abundant sociability.

But then 'twas that I did lean forwards too far, expressing as I was my pure emotionality because of his fantastic wit, and then it did happen that my bust became surprisingly, and totally to my unawareness, immersed within the soup. And how I could have died of shame! What must he think of me?, I did think. Of all the rotten things to happen to a sweet girl! I wanted to dash like a wastrel to the bathroom, hiding my superabundant shame. Instead, I decided to brave the consequences of my actions and face my embarrassment like a lady. I couldn't stop the tears from starting to splutter though, and I did grab a serviette of colour red, in order to capture the mucous starting to spurt from my now obviously inflamed nostrils.

Musician boy looked anxiously on as I proceeded to snort delicately in the red paper. It seemed that there was nothing he could do to help alleviate my psychological excruciation.

That was the point when he remarked my nose had turned a bright red. I was embarrassed beyond words, and that ishow I honestly felt. So flabbergasted was I at his words, I could have wept for weeks without relief from the embarrassment.

Leaping up, as if to leave, I started off, intent to check myself within the safe confines of the ladies restroom. Yet alas, dear reader, events were to turn from bad to worse. For right at this moment, a post appeared in front of my head. Its appearance was an omen -- as if to save me from the preposterousness of my situation. I could not help but see it as a sign, perhaps from Life itself. Though, what was Life itself trying to tell me? I knew in a second when I gave up my consciousness willingly but gratefully at last, I did drop into a dead fate, for Life itself has its way when circumstances get too overwhelming.

Did I say that life has a way of saving us from ourselves?? Understatement of the week!

The interventions in our lives by Life are the only true moments worth living for! I'd bumped my head -- but so the fates must have ordained it, for in a minute I was woken by my handsome Prince. That was a sign for me to drop the musician, whom I had failed to impress, in order to embrace my real fate, which had been pointed out by my collision with the post.

I more than thanked my gracious and hot, blustering Prince with a fainting voice as I swooned once more, rapidly going in and out of consciousness. With every movement I made towards death's door, I could tell my prince was more alarmed than he had been before. I wanted Him to ravish me there and then, and with the kiss of life upon my lips, I knew right then how I'd received my wish!

That was when I cried forth sweet and despairing words, believing I was a wounded bird with a broken wing. The Prince looked startled - relieved that he had saved my life. Alas, suddenly a horrible reality dawned on me. Oh oh oh! It must have been true, although I wish to god that it were not! What was it? Only that my supine state had caused my flesh to press against the ground -- the hard, cruel concrete underneath my shoulders, torso and, above all, my thighs!! Fate could not have dealt a harsher sentence, after it had tantalized me so cruelly, so mercilessly, with this little bit of hope that I had finally encountered my dream.

If only my Prince had known me in my more truer, much more vertical state, my dreams could have been fulfilled. No doubt, he'd have whisked me away forever. This heartless piece of information, dear reader, which I would regret to divulge, and yet cannot bring myself not to betray at my own expense, is that the Prince had almost certainly, I cringe to say it, seen me in the state wherein no lady should be seen. There is no sense in denying it: He must have seen my thighs as they appeared to him, 2.5X as thick as they would naturally appear, because pressed upwards, indeed verily extended sideways by the concrete. It is almost too embarrassing to write this, but I have written it all the same, for write I must do. It has been ordained.

Oh cruel concrete and crueler fate! Never had I been so humiliated as in this instance! For nothing else could serve to explain his swift departure, back into the void, the darkness from which he'd came, but that my Prince had seen the thickness of my thighs against the ground, and been disgusted by them. Oh, thou cruel darkness! Thou too solid and impenetrable darkness! What wilt thou do with me next??

I suffer, so much is True.

Yet 'tis only for Thee.

5:26 PM  
Blogger kingfelix said...

voting your own work excellent is very very Klein-like...

it must be contagious

but you are surely right, her blog saddens me, its apocalyptic in its self-absorption, and it hurts me to think of the world being destroyed and that her writing would be all that was left as only key to 21st century psyche.

don't like to see language crucified on the altar of the self

12:58 AM  
Blogger Unsane said...

I meant "excellent" in the sense of Bill and Ted's Excellent adventure.

[History is about to be rewritten by two guys who can't spell...]

7:43 PM  
Blogger kingfelix said...

thanks for reminding me of that terrible film

7:45 PM  
Blogger Unsane said...

No problem. If you ever need reminding of a terrible film, I'm your woman. But, that is the tone in which I meant the word "excellent".

2:10 AM  

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