Other Creativity

What can I say? It doesn't fit above, put it here. Also the location of board rules/info.
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Ceresz
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Other Creativity

Post by Ceresz »

I thought I'd steal this idea from the ZBB. Over there the thread is called Creativity of the Day, and it's simply used for members to display their creativity in other fields than linguistics. Basically anything goes, be it writing, painting or drawing, composition, programming—as long as you created it.

To start this of I thought I should share the lyrics to a song I started writing about two months ago. I still haven't finished it though (I've been really bad at finishing songs lately).

Code: Select all

|G    |Bm7  |Em7  |C    | x4
 
G        Bm7   Em7    C
Lägg dig ner i gräset kallt
      G        Bm7        Em7   C
bland döende löv, fuktig mark
      G           Bm7
är du knäsvag men stark
   Em7     C
En dröm så varm
    G           Bm7   Em7    C  
Där allting tar slut igen                Om jag bara...
 
Em7             D
kunde vara lite stark
                C
kunde vara lika varm
G   D
som du
Em7               D
Kunde vara som en vän
                  C
en vän som aldrig står
G      D
längre fram
Translation (rough)
Lie down in the cold grass
Among dying leaves, moist ground
You're weak at the knees but strong
A dream so warm
Where everything ends again

If only I could
Be a little strong(er)
Be just as warm
As you
Be like a friend
A friend who never stands
further ahead


A very rough translation indeed.

There, now I've posted something creative and proved that it doesn't have to be of quality to fit in this thread.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Ossicone »

I don't know anything about music, but I will subject you all to more drawings.

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The creepy avatar! :P
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

I'd share a story I am writing, but I am kind of self conscious about the whole thing, heh.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by sirgryfang »

Thakowsaizmu wrote:I'd share a story I am writing, but I am kind of self conscious about the whole thing, heh.
Take the plunge... share the story. ... Please....

EDIT: forgot to be polite
I hope to see you soon, and we will talk face to face.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Ceresz »

Ossicone wrote:I don't know anything about music, but I will subject you all to more drawings.

PIC[/img]
The creepy avatar! :P
It's always nice to see the process :-D.
Thakowsaizmu wrote: I'd share a story I am writing, but I am kind of self conscious about the whole thing, heh.
Yes, please share!
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

I suppose I could share chapter one, and then pretend I never shared it, because it is that bad. It's more or less me musing over the Sword & Sorcery genre of fantasy, so I doubt it is everyone's cup of tea anyway. Let me dig it up...
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Ceresz »

Thakowsaizmu wrote:I suppose I could share chapter one, and then pretend I never shared it, because it is that bad. It's more or less me musing over the Sword & Sorcery genre of fantasy, so I doubt it is everyone's cup of tea anyway. Let me dig it up...
I doubt anyone's good when they first start. And I'm sure it's better than you think :-D. Maybe I'll share some of my writing as well.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

Before hitting the spoiler thing, just know it isn't great. Mostly I was reading Conan and some Chinese history and mythology books at the same time.

The Mystics of Hsian La
Chapter I.
Spoiler:
Snip...
Last edited by Thakowsaizmu on 02 Nov 2011 22:01, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Ceresz »

I read 1/3 of it, and it wasn't bad. Much better than a lot of writing I've seen (and probably a lot better than any writing I've ever done). I'll read the rest once I've posted this and re-filled my glass of water.

This was written sometime in March I think.

Untitled and Unfinished Story
Spoiler:
'She bit me!' a voice screamed. 'She fucking bit me, man! What the hell is wrong with this place?'

The voice screaming was my friend—my partner in crime. His name was Dawson. Ralph Dawson. Or at least that's what he claimed it was. I didn't really care anyway. We were sitting in a bar in the middle of nowhere drinking whiskey and discussing random nonsense and smoking cigarettes and cigars and just enjoying ourselves in a crappy, small desert town in the middle of nowhere, when suddenly this petite blonde woman walked up to my friend and began chatting with him. At first she appeared to be harmless, just another sleazy redneck trying to find a warm body to wrap herself around during a cold and lonely October evening. She was flirting with. Dawson was an easy target—he was drunk beyond repair; tall, brown-haired and—apparently—handsome. But then, suddenly, out of nowhere, she bit him in the cheek. Obviously my friend screamed out in pain, cursing and shouting and spilling his drink in the process. He was going mad... raving mad.

'You stinking whore!' Dawson yelled as he rose his fist in the air to deal a blow upon the young girls untainted face.

'Don't!' I rose from my chair. He stopped the punch mid-air and just looked at her. 'Let's just go; this place stinks anyway.'

He lowered his arm and brushed away his long, brown hair with the other. 'Yeah... you're right,' he said. 'The bitch doesn't deserve to be touched by a handsome fella' like myself.'

I could see the fear in the young girl's eyes as we got up and left. She was obviously on some drug fueled crusade, trying to find the answer to why she ended up where she was by chewing acid and shooting up and clinging onto whatever crossed her path. Tonight, she had lost it. It would probably take a long time before she could process what had just happened. She had probably, for some reason, received signals from her brain telling her she was in danger—that she was being attacked by a giant, demon-like creature covered in thorns and oozing of pus. So in her mind she was just defending herself, protecting the only thing she had that was of value left in this world—her life.

A cool breeze stirred outside. I lit a cigarette as we crossed the street and started our drunken stumble toward the motel where we were staying. Dawson was carrying a bottle of Wild Turkey that he had snatched from behind the bar just before we left. 'This could get in handy,' he said as we passed through the front-door of the motel. I said nothing, I simply nodded in agreement.

When we entered our room all I could think about was getting some sleep. It had been a rough day, and the incident that occurred only a few minutes before had gotten to me. I was shook up and I needed sleep. But I ended up spending the night drinking with Dawson and smoking cigarettes instead. It was dawn when I was finally able to get some sleep.

*

I awoke with a major hangover around noon the next day. Dawson was nowhere to be found, his bed was made, and he's shoes weren't in the room. I got out of bed and entered the bathroom. When I looked myself in the mirror I noticed that I had note taped to my forehead. It read:

'Scoring some M. Back by 5.'

Drugs. They had been a big part of my life during my adolescent youth, just after my father had died. I had done nearly anything out there, from alcohol to the most depraved and irresponsible drugs known to man. I stopped doing drugs years ago when my recreational use began to border on obsession and abuse. I shook my head and headed into the shower. After I had gotten dressed I headed out to find something to eat.

The best way to cure a hangover was to pour ridiculously large amounts of black coffee into your system. Also, a few beers helped the healing process. This was the last valuable lesson my father had taught me. The waitress—a beautiful young woman—brought me three beers, a pot of coffee and a newspaper. As I scanned the headlines I began pondering the reasons for this journey—and why the hell I chose to undergo this mission with a man like Dawson.

I had met Dawson two weeks ago at some hospital which name I can no longer recall. He was there for an ordinary check-up. I, on the other hand, was there to get my death-sentence. The doctor gave me two months—three if I were lucky. He wanted to start treatment right away, but I refused. Dawson was there to pick up the pieces, and whatever remained of my very being.

During one night of drinking I uttered that I would've like to drive across the country at least once before I died. I told him I wanted to drive from coast to coast with the road and myself as my only companions. Nothing but gravel and concrete and the scorching sun. A decadent and depraved journey, by all means. But is was my journey. A long forgotten dream. I wanted to see the light one last time; I wanted to feel the warmth before I go... before the curtains close on me. That's what I told him, and it had left him silent—speechless.

He took a sip of rum and looked at me. 'Man... it's got to suck knowing that you're going to die,' he finally said.

'We're all going to die, Dawson.'

'I know... I know. But I mean, it must feel different when you know your—how should I put it—expiration date. Doesn't it?'

I didn't say anything. I simple raised my glass and nodded.

'Take the trip,' he said after a few moments of silence.

'What?' I asked him, surprised by his sudden statement.

'Take the trip. Just do it, man. Do you have money? Rent a car and drive across the country. Find that last sensation of warmth. Live while you have the chance. I mean, I think it's a good idea.'

'You do?'

'Hell yes. Only one problem, though.'

'What's that?' I asked him and took a sip from my Bloody Mary.

'You're not going to do this alone. I'm going with you,' he said and pounded his fist on the table. Then he called the waitress for four glasses of rum with ice and four Bloody Marys. 'Hell, man,' he continued as he lit a cigarette, 'you can't expect me to let you do this alone now, can you? I mean, hell, just think about it! The women, the parties, the booze, the landscapes—'

'—and the drugs!' I interrupted, and downed the remaining whiskey in my glass.

'Shit,' he said, 'I almost forgot about the drugs!' The waitress arrived with our drinks. 'To life,' he said and raised a glass of rum. 'To life and living it the way it should be lived if you only have two rotten months left on this godforsaken junkyard, also referred to by the name of planet earth!'

I laughed. 'Hell yes! There is only one way to go out when you have nothing to live for, and that is by getting twisted and travelling across the country in an real car and by screwing whatever Looney Tune that comes by. By God, man. This is it—the beginning of the end! Cheers!'

'Cheers!' he said, and we downed our drinks.

The next morning I rented a car and the rest... is history. Two days later we checked into that rotten hotel in that small desert town where hell would soon break loose.

*

How the hell did that happen? Was I really that drunk? A part of me was ashamed when I thought about it all, but I knew this was the only way for me to go out. Most people, when facing death, usually prefer to spend their last days, months, years, whatever, with their loved ones. I, however, didn't have anyone. So why not spend it with Dawson? It made a lot of sense now that I thought of it.

'More coffee, sir?' the waitress asked me.

I looked at her and shook my head. 'No thanks,' I said. 'I better get going now anyway. Could I have the check, please?'

'Of course,' she said and smiled. She hurried off and returned a few seconds later.

'Thank you,' I said and left the money on the table, grabbed my coat and left.
Yeah...

EDIT:

I've read through it all now, and the main thing that struck me as odd was the use of present tense narration, which is just something I'm not used to reading. Other than that, I don't really have anything to say.

How much have you written so far?
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Pe King »

So will biased commentaries made in a humorous lay out be accepted?
One just isn't enough.

I am praying for you all, with sincerity and on occasion gritted teeth.

Mathew 5:43-44

I seldom think before I speak.
That requires patience, an art I have little practice in.

-Pe King, I hope.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

Pe King wrote:So will biased commentaries made in a humorous lay out be accepted?
Maybe if it was humourous...
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by KiKi Tampusa »

Careful Thakowsaizmu Pe King's definition could be very different from yours. Take Micamo's advice, think about what you say.
What are Klingon speakers doing? They are engaging in intellectually stimulating language play. They are enjoying themselves for languages sake, art for art’s sakes. And like all committed artists, they will do their thing, critics be damned.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

If you are not perceived as humourous to those that you are presenting your humour, then it is not considered humourous, is it? He's tried to share his "humour" and it is decidedly unfunny.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by KiKi Tampusa »

That leaves one question. What is your version of humor? Every time I use Humour the spell check calls it wrong. Also
Wikipedia wrote:Most words ending in an unstressed -our in British English (e.g., colour, flavour, honour, neighbour, rumour, labour, humour) end in -or in American English (e.g., color, flavor, honor, neighbor, rumor, labor, humor). Wherever the vowel is unreduced in pronunciation, this does not occur: contour, velour, paramour, troubadour, are spelt thus the same everywhere. Most words of this category derive from Latin non-agent nouns having nominative -or; the first such borrowings into English were from early Old French and the ending was -or or -ur.[30] After the Norman Conquest, the ending became -our in Anglo-French in an attempt to represent the Old French pronunciation of words ending in -or[31], though color has been used occasionally in English since the 15th century.[32] The -our ending was not only retained in English borrowings from Anglo-French, but also applied to earlier French borrowings
What are Klingon speakers doing? They are engaging in intellectually stimulating language play. They are enjoying themselves for languages sake, art for art’s sakes. And like all committed artists, they will do their thing, critics be damned.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

Spell check is not always correct. And kudos to you for learning how to read something that is peer edited. What does it say about the word aëroplane? Bet it marks that one wrong as well, but it isn't necessarily.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by KiKi Tampusa »

Debate team is fun. Always have a evidence to back your position. To go into a discussion unprepared like a certain someone is foolish and often leads to someone's toes being stepped on.
@Pe King: Think before you speak. To you I quote, "Opinions are like armpits. Everyone has them and they usually stink."
What are Klingon speakers doing? They are engaging in intellectually stimulating language play. They are enjoying themselves for languages sake, art for art’s sakes. And like all committed artists, they will do their thing, critics be damned.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

KiKi Tampusa wrote:Debate team is fun. Always have a evidence to back your position. To go into a discussion unprepared like a certain someone is foolish and often leads to someone's toes being stepped on.
We aren't debating anything. English has a funny way of having many ways to spell things. It is a very olde language, after all, and the orthography is fairly new. Though some of the conventions I use are no longer the popular conventions, they are still valid. Take a look at any book written before the 1940s, the conventions are different. Take a look at some of the books from the 1500s and 1600s.
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Ossicone »

Well you got Batgirl earlier so here is bikini.
Imagine she's a red head and you've got bat girl in a bikini.

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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Thakowsaizmu »

She should have her mask on!
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Re: Other Creativity

Post by Ossicone »

Use your imagination! :P
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