Log in

No account? Create an account
The Cerebral Intercourse [entries|friends|calendar]
.Creative. .as. .Fuck.

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

(1 - Output - | + Input + )

"Le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau." [08 Mar 2006|10:28am]


Which translates to:

"The exquisite corpse will drink the young wine."

As writers, I hope we have all either played the game once or at least heard of it.

If not, you can go here.

I would love to get a round of this going. I've participated, and with great results ...I noticed my writer's block was instantly cured.

So if anyone is still alive out here, in Synapse land, please respond with a yay or nay.


( + Input + )

Workplace Haikus [26 Dec 2005|04:27pm]

[ mood | .achy. ]

I forgot how fun blogging at work could be.

Even the worker bees get to fly away.Collapse )

(1 - Output - | + Input + )

[25 Dec 2005|11:51am]

[ mood | .festive and working. ]

Hey guys...

Just stopping by here to wish all of my dedicated and sometimes contributors a very happy holiday season. This community could be so much more and I totally keep slacking off. Well like all end-of-year cliches, I resolve to give the site a complete overhaul, and make it a great little net cafe of sorts, where you can come and take in the tasty nuggets of literary gold. Thanks to all of you who are still members, and who still do contribute.

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Merry Happy Chrismachaunkwanzikostice. I think that covers everybody. And have a good non-denominational festive-esque season for those agnostics and atheists among us.

And for those of us working, happy happy day.

-Your Mod,
Miss Cherry Blossoms

( + Input + )

[26 Aug 2005|05:05pm]

Notes on FutonCollapse )

( + Input + )

ADD [15 Jul 2005|03:33pm]

[ mood | calm ]

*ADD*Collapse )

© 2005 Palin_Travels

( + Input + )

[08 Jul 2005|03:10pm]

Avah Baxter relaxed her body as she floated to the surface of the lake. She opened her eyes and gazed up at the velvet black sky dotted with tiny specks of silver. The water was thick and black around her, and her long black hair floated around her head like a wispy curtain. The only sound around her was the owl in the distance. The air was crisp, and she knew that if her mother ever saw her like this, she'd demand Avah get out of the water for fear she'd catch pneumonia.

But tonight Avah didn't care. The weightlessness in her body was somehow a comfort to her now. Her dress, now soaked, fit her like another layer of patterned skin.

She paddled her hands slowly, gently, gracefully through the dark waters, propelling herself further into the center of the lake. This was her moment.

Tomorrow, when the first of the fishermen arrived at dawn, they'd find her washed up on the shore, gazing down at her and wondering what had become of the beautiful Avah Baxter.

(1 - Output - | + Input + )

[21 May 2005|11:30am]

Dude change the channel

Warning:(this is a Mock-umentary on the events in 9/11 and this may offend you. Like mark Twain said about the adventures of huckaberry finn, anyone who attempts to find meaning in this will be shot. You have been warned.)

Read more...Collapse )

( + Input + )

[28 Apr 2005|09:40pm]

The crimson sky roars with vengeance as the clouds empty their stomachs. They pelt the ground with waves of rain carrying diminutive birds lost in translation. The birds hit the ground like blocks of cement and roll uncontrollably down hills of sewage like tears, becoming buried into worn mud like stones. Their pupils gradually burn an engraving of their last mirage, their last big high as they reach their final destination. Now statues they clutch with their beaks crumpled bags full of syringes with liquid white powder as their validation. Their feathers ripped by each exhale of the wind and their flesh burning from each sardonic rise of the sun, their beady eyes stare into the bleeding sky feeling cheated.

( + Input + )

[20 Apr 2005|04:36am]

A story that I have been working on, let me know what you think? Or if there is anything I could fix. Enjoy...

The End of The EndCollapse )

( + Input + )

[17 Apr 2005|08:18pm]

Hi! I was in this community before, as whenitrainsx. But I shall re-introduce myself since its been a while.

Name: Shelley
Age: Seventeen
Sex: Female.
Orientation: Lesbian

I write poetry and short stories, monologues sometimes or scenes. I like photography, too. And I draw sometimes, but rarely show that to people because I'm still learning how to draw/paint/etc.

So, in the past I've been told my writing is pretty juvenile and I have to agree. Thing is, it still is pretty juvenile. I hope its gotten a little less childish, and I hope for it to get better as I become less of a child myself. Also, I found a poem I wrote a while ago (posted it here too) that I really like. I don't know if its finished or not, but I want to make it better so any suggestions would be great. Also if you think it should stay the way it is, go ahead and tell me that too. Below are two new poems, the old one, and some photography (including a pic of me)

look up to the sky, sky, sky..Collapse )

the end.

(7 - Output - | + Input + )

[16 Apr 2005|11:10pm]

Inside Daphne

Out of suppression I emerged from the narrow clutches of subconscious into the ego. As a new member, I had to help discuss the future of Daphne while finally meeting the new ringleaders of her show. I took my shaky step into the bubbly conscious, which looked like more of a mirage then reality. The sky was a watery shade of blue that made my red sweater purple. I admired the pink sidewalk as it turned to moldy dead grass. Each string of grass stared at me, reminiscing of its youth when the wind could not haul it from its roots. It had been a long time since I had felt the crispiness of the air, and felt the groves of a yellow tree at the end of its existence. I looked at my watch and suddenly ran into the coffee house for the meeting. It was fill of people doing something with their fingers some smoking, others snapping to an imaginary beat. Their fingers yearning to have someone hold their cigarettes as well. I ring the bell at the front desk and a waitress rushed towards me. She stopped suspiciously and smiled weakly at me.
“It’s been a long time,” She said
“It has,” I nodded.
“I wanted to say goodbye, but it all happened so fast”
Read more...Collapse )

© 2005 zoelogan

(2 - Output - | + Input + )

[23 Mar 2005|07:55pm]

So do you like to discuss politics, religion and philosophy if so I invite you to join my community.


We're all right but incorrect...

(2 - Output - | + Input + )

[11 Mar 2005|10:48pm]

Small town
There is a small town that is so small people just call it town. To the people, town is the center of the universe with sunrise that spills onto the sky like mercury into lakes. Here lies a man, not only a man but also a man named Bob. Bob whose name use to be Robert but has been destroyed by a society’s attempt to shorten everything in order to keep ‘fast pace’. Bob, correction just changed to B, lived in this small town all his life. Like the rest of town he was no god-fearing, bible loving man even though he couldn’t read or spell.
Read more...Collapse )

(3 - Output - | + Input + )

bouncy [06 Mar 2005|03:00am]

ok, here is a short story, tell me what you think... k

Read more...Collapse )

(2 - Output - | + Input + )

They all lied [28 Feb 2005|01:10am]

They all lied. These friends of yours did not accompanying you to conquer the authentic goal. A true filth of mankind, you spend your days in simplicity selling drugs out of a diminutive shack, held together with aluminum foil and crumpling ruddy mud. Every minute mounting a face aged cold with visions of young lives stolen, by a tap of the trigger and a mind inundated with paranoid thoughts, as each moment could be your last. Plagued by every sardonic rise of the sun, announcing a seemly eternal existence, you laid under the covers paralyzed by the dreams of your youth and your cliché’s eminence ideas. They promised to drop out too, and join you on a rampage of rebellion against the foundations of principles and morality, but where are they now? They are attending prestigious universities they named preparatory prisons. They are working for the same government once referred to as ‘the machine’ the real poison of society. They are living in the suburbs, they promise never to touch because the atmosphere was masked with a surreal sense of paradise, only to cover the true blasphemy lying underneath the crust. They are not with you now and are beyond your reach. They all lied.

(1 - Output - | + Input + )

Song for Veruca [27 Feb 2005|10:25am]

Words come and go / but what's written is written, / days turn to years in the blink of an eye, / we write for ourselves / and for those passing by -- / the stranger you meet / in the dark on the street / is yourself / from another lifetime....

(1 - Output - | + Input + )

"Teacup and Spoon" [26 Feb 2005|01:36pm]

[ mood | awake ]

Teacup and Spoon... not quite finished.

This image is smaller and more accurate to color

This image is bigger but the color is wildly distorted... thank you camera.

For sale: $20

Watercolor and ink.

Thanks and have a nice day!


(1 - Output - | + Input + )

[26 Feb 2005|12:49pm]

Jennifer, 20, etc hey

Read more...Collapse )

( + Input + )

[21 Feb 2005|03:06am]

here is a poem i just made i am trying to make a villanelle. first i ask could you help me know what i need for the poem and if you are confused in the poem... kay.

poemCollapse )

( + Input + )

[19 Feb 2005|07:41pm]

This was written a month or so later:
Read more...Collapse )

[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]