For project four I am going to post a note on Facebook and ask my friends to take photos of either their outfit on them or their outfit laid out before they get dressed. Including their shoes, jewelry, hat, anything they are wearing that day and to tell me what the brand is for each piece article. I will have them email me their photos and then I will upload the pictures to my blog and ask each person to comment on all the the photos and say what they believe that outfit would say about that person. I am going to ask each individual what they think their own outfit says about them, they can be as serious and as funny as they would like to be.
I am going to make sure that no one knows what outfits belong to who, that way people can be as truthful and impartial as they want. My goal with this project is to get as many of my friends as I can to relieve whether or not they judge a book by it's cover, or if they themselves are a slave to the trends. I plan of posting each persons clothes pictures into separate posts on a blog that I will make for the project. Then all of the people who participate can comment on each post without knowing who that person is and they can comment without giving up their names. A possible names for the Blog may be Do you judge a book by it's cover or You are what you wear.
I may give example categories for the people to use as a way to describe the outfits they see. Such as Outdoorsy, Trendy, Business, Comfort, and so forth.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Response 6
Different name brand appareal and accesories people on campus wear.
The North Face
UGG
Columbia
American Eagle
Mountain Hardwear
Nike
Abercrombie and Fitch
Adidas
Hurley
Under Armour
Carhartt
Puma
Champion
Polo
Lacoste
L.L.Bean
Timberland
Cabelas
For project four I could ask people to make their own lists of brands that they see and see how the lists differ and what the most common names are. I can ask them to respond to how they view a person depending on the brands they are wearing. Is what we wear, what defines us? Do we stereotype on appearances, do we group people that way?
The North Face
UGG
Columbia
American Eagle
Mountain Hardwear
Nike
Abercrombie and Fitch
Adidas
Hurley
Under Armour
Carhartt
Puma
Champion
Polo
Lacoste
L.L.Bean
Timberland
Cabelas
For project four I could ask people to make their own lists of brands that they see and see how the lists differ and what the most common names are. I can ask them to respond to how they view a person depending on the brands they are wearing. Is what we wear, what defines us? Do we stereotype on appearances, do we group people that way?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
initial ideas for project 4
Right now I have quite a few ideas for what I might want to do , but one thing I know for sure is that I would like to use facebook to get my friends involved in the project whether it be a story to fill in, a list of things they can add to, or a project similar to the learning to love you more web page. I like the idea of involving everys ideas and feelings to create the project because that is what the internet itself is is a collaboration of many people and their ideas.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Metatext for Project 3
The freedom and simplicity that this project had was a bit intimidating at first. With so many tools and so many possibilities it was difficult to narrow down 3 pieces. The 3 texts that I chose were for their unique properties that I knew would produce interesting and humorous outcomes. The Verb+7 text which is an excerpt from a short story I wrote called Life On Sticks. The voice that the story had naturally, somewhat sarcastic about a serious injury, I knew would come through in the changed piece. I chose to do verbs instead of nouns because I knew that the verbs would not change to story itself but instead add a new dimension and some humor. I did not change the was and were's because I felt that they did change the story too much from what I wanted it to be.
The Hunter S. Thompson piece is three seperate sections taken from his "Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas". I chose to shannonize his work in his own voice because I wanted to see how much of a change this voice would recieve through his voice. In class we had been using text that was far from the voice we were placing them in and I wanted to see how the process would change a similar text.It definately changed the text and order just as much as any other text I had shannonized in his voice. I like the mix of severity, darkness, and humor that is produced.
James Still's "River of Earth" excerpt , that I ran through Babel fish, I chose because I wanted to use a piece of literature that was written in broken english and see how the dialect would come through in translations.I translated it from English to German to French to Dutch to English to Russian and back to English. The finished piece is not what I was expecting but I was pleased with the outcome. The placement of "Of" inbetween all most ever word makes the text choppy and hard to follow. I analyzed the text by taking out the Of's while reading it and the original text itself had not differed that greatly. The translation actually turns the piece into a code that must be broken to reveal the true story.
I enjoyed this project, and I think that more writing should be processed this way, because when you break down any text you find the real writing underneath.
The Hunter S. Thompson piece is three seperate sections taken from his "Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas". I chose to shannonize his work in his own voice because I wanted to see how much of a change this voice would recieve through his voice. In class we had been using text that was far from the voice we were placing them in and I wanted to see how the process would change a similar text.It definately changed the text and order just as much as any other text I had shannonized in his voice. I like the mix of severity, darkness, and humor that is produced.
James Still's "River of Earth" excerpt , that I ran through Babel fish, I chose because I wanted to use a piece of literature that was written in broken english and see how the dialect would come through in translations.I translated it from English to German to French to Dutch to English to Russian and back to English. The finished piece is not what I was expecting but I was pleased with the outcome. The placement of "Of" inbetween all most ever word makes the text choppy and hard to follow. I analyzed the text by taking out the Of's while reading it and the original text itself had not differed that greatly. The translation actually turns the piece into a code that must be broken to reveal the true story.
I enjoyed this project, and I think that more writing should be processed this way, because when you break down any text you find the real writing underneath.
An Excerpt from the novel, "River of Earth" by James Still run through Babelfish from English->German->French->Dutch->English-> Russian->English
“Reckon of you of heard of the Of honeycutts of are of trying to of hog-tie Me of into of sending of you of back to Of frankfort,” the of judge of said. “I heard a of little of sketch,” Uncle Of jolly of said, threading of his of arms of through of the of bars. The of judge of groaned. “I can't of spare a of vote.” “You'll of lose a of mess of either of way,” Uncle Of jolly of warned. “I got no of notion o' of going of back to of the of pen of anyhow. A of the log team of couldn't of drag Me of there of again. It's of like of pulling of eyeteeth of just to of stay in of this of jailhouse.” Logg of brought in a of smokey of lantern, holding a of match to of the of oily of wick. The of judge of cracked of heavy of knuckles of against of his of palms. “I'm of not a -going to of send of you of back,” he of said. “I got it of figured of this of way. You of stay in of jail of till of election of day- of then it of won't of matter of who of rows up. I just of want Me of one of more of term. Logg'll of loose of you of the of minute of the Of honeycutts of get of Jones's voted on Fork.” “That's of eight of days a -coming,” Uncle Of jolly of said. “It'll of keep Me of here of plumb of till of hog-killing of time. Like of setting on a of frog of gig of staying, and of Me of knowing I could of snake of out of any of time of the of notion of struck.” “You've of gone of nowhere of yet, as I see,” Logg of said. Uncle Of jolly of looked at of the of ring of of keys of hung on Of logg's of belt. “Never of took a of strong of idea,” he of said. “I hain't of safe in of here of long as of there's a of key of walking of around. I can't of trust of myself to of stay of shet up.” “If you of don't of stay, I'll be of bound to of send of you of back to Of frankfort,” Judge Of mauldin of warned. The of judge of stoog to go. I went of out of behind of him, Logg of following and locking of the of door, and hooking of the of ring on of his of belt. Uncle Of jolly of thrust of his of arms of through of the of bars as Of logg of turned, lifting of the of ring of with a of finger, quick as an of eye-bat. I glimpsed it of all and waited, holding my of breath, fearing of for Of uncle Of jolly. The of judge and Logg of walked up of the of Hall, not of looking of back or of knowing. When of they of had of gone, Uncle Of jolly of took of one of key of off, handing of the of rest to Me. “Go take of the of others of back,” he of said “This of one of won't be of missed of for a of spell.”
Original Text:
“ Reckon you heard the Honeycutts are trying to hog-tie me into sending you back to Frankfort,” the judge said. “I heard a little sketch,” Uncle Jolly said, threading his arms through the bars. The judge groaned. “I can’t spare a vote.” “You’ll lose a mess either way,” Uncle Jolly warned. “ I got no notion o’ going back to the pen anyhow. A log team couldn’t drag me there again. It’s like pulling eyeteeth just to stay in this jailhouse.” Logg brought in a smokey lantern, holding a match to the oily wick. The judge cracked heavy knuckles against his palms. “I’m not a-going to send you back,” he said. “I got it figured this way. You stay in jail till election day- then it won’t matter who rows up. I just want me one more term. Logg’ll loose you the minute the Honeycutts get voted on Jones Fork.” “That’s eight days a-coming,” Uncle Jolly said. “It’ll keep me here plumb till hog-killing time. Like setting on a frog gig staying, and me knowing I could snake out any time the notion struck.” “You’ve gone nowhere yet, as I see,” Logg said. Uncle Jolly looked at the ring of keys hung on Logg’s belt. “Never took a strong idea,” he said. “I hain’t safe in here long as there’s a key walking around. I can’t trust myself to stay shet up.” “If you don’t stay, I’ll be bound to send you back to Frankfort,” Judge Mauldin warned. The judge stoog to go. I went out behind him, Logg following and locking the door, and hooking the ring on his belt. Uncle Jolly thrust his arms through the bars as Logg turned, lifting the ring with a finger, quick as an eye-bat. I glimpsed it all and waited, holding my breath, fearing for Uncle Jolly. The judge and Logg walked up the hall, not looking back or knowing. When they had gone, Uncle Jolly took one key off, handing the rest to me. “Go take the others back,” he said “This one won’t be missed for a spell.”
Original Text:
“ Reckon you heard the Honeycutts are trying to hog-tie me into sending you back to Frankfort,” the judge said. “I heard a little sketch,” Uncle Jolly said, threading his arms through the bars. The judge groaned. “I can’t spare a vote.” “You’ll lose a mess either way,” Uncle Jolly warned. “ I got no notion o’ going back to the pen anyhow. A log team couldn’t drag me there again. It’s like pulling eyeteeth just to stay in this jailhouse.” Logg brought in a smokey lantern, holding a match to the oily wick. The judge cracked heavy knuckles against his palms. “I’m not a-going to send you back,” he said. “I got it figured this way. You stay in jail till election day- then it won’t matter who rows up. I just want me one more term. Logg’ll loose you the minute the Honeycutts get voted on Jones Fork.” “That’s eight days a-coming,” Uncle Jolly said. “It’ll keep me here plumb till hog-killing time. Like setting on a frog gig staying, and me knowing I could snake out any time the notion struck.” “You’ve gone nowhere yet, as I see,” Logg said. Uncle Jolly looked at the ring of keys hung on Logg’s belt. “Never took a strong idea,” he said. “I hain’t safe in here long as there’s a key walking around. I can’t trust myself to stay shet up.” “If you don’t stay, I’ll be bound to send you back to Frankfort,” Judge Mauldin warned. The judge stoog to go. I went out behind him, Logg following and locking the door, and hooking the ring on his belt. Uncle Jolly thrust his arms through the bars as Logg turned, lifting the ring with a finger, quick as an eye-bat. I glimpsed it all and waited, holding my breath, fearing for Uncle Jolly. The judge and Logg walked up the hall, not looking back or knowing. When they had gone, Uncle Jolly took one key off, handing the rest to me. “Go take the others back,” he said “This one won’t be missed for a spell.”
Hunter S. Thompson Shannonizer by Hunter S. Thompson
We were somewhere around Vegas wearing one black glove? How much longer. I advise you to buy a terrible roar all these coconut husks and covered with his shirt off and behave like a taco in half with a voice was pouring beer on the brakes and perhaps even dangerous. The guy with his eyes closed and mental collapse is LSD. What kind of the top down to facilitate the sky was beyond help-- a bit lightheaded; maybe you yelling about a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive.” I took it was a jail and nervous. “Never mind,” I remember saying something wrong with his lungs out on the hell are those bats, all kinds of physical and was evidence, we're finished. He seemed very real now, with his chest, and screeching and beat me was full of drug known to las vegas. “It’s your turn to facilitate the bathtub, I said.... a terrible roar all kinds of what looked like huge bats, staring up at six in this? Act natural, I advise you to drive at the hell are you to las vegas. Yes. I said nothing: “Holy juesus!
Suddenly I felt guilty again. The warden will recognize me; and that article finally died on the lead paragraphs I saw the vine, swooping down a total stranger up there in prison. The New York Times. No! Wait!” I must be hallucinating. Every cell in those circles, cops and assorted hustlers who got ugly, guards, nobody calling… and moved forward to explain; in The New York Times. They wanted their stories told me went into the paper aside and then I saw you!” I grasped my whole act slipping… and assorted hustlers who got ugly, too tired to pace. They wanted their stories told me, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… None of my whole act slipping… None of my own… it’s a journalistic bureaucracy that no p. And it were, but I thought. “I’ve been calling… just keep walking towards the dead-end file because I felt my leather satchel and moved forward to face and began to pace. Losing control, as it? I almost collapsed on his face and a ramp in my wheels. Why worry about details? They asked. “I’ve been calling your room,” he said. They asked. “I’ve been looking for that no con in his face my shoulder. And it’s not like I’ll be hallucinating. Deliverance! I once interviewed them for that no p. Losing control, a grey formica desk in the curb. No! I refused to explain; in The warden will recognize me went into the car, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… just keep walking towards the article didn’t satisfy some editor three thousand miles away- and the car, I thought. “Mister Duke!” The warden will recognize me, I grasped my own… and a yellow envelope in the next-door garage.
We finally got into your bedroom window, four shrimp cocktails, but I said. Just samples, and beat me on top of fresh grapefruits. Would they cut the window and perhaps even dangerous. All this time the middle. A very agitated by what kind of a motorcycle. “We’ll need all we can get a blade like a suitcase full of acid and my arm and filigree, officer. The guy with a big Bowie knives. A very complicated track, and filigree, giving off a quart of booze, blocking our view of person. “Vitamin C,” said. “Why?” “There’s a gigantic neon sign outside,” he dare to get.” I said my hallucinations were glazed and my arm and the middle. Creeping through the bathtub, strange symbols and burned out on the TV set. “Vitamin C,” said. “I want to civilized man since 1544 AD. “Vitamin C,” I agreed. “I want to rip his features, quavering sort of electric snake… coming straight at us.” I gave him a tolerable level. “Why?” “There’s a very real now... then suddenly. One more hour.
Original Text:
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive…” And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to las vegas. And a voice was screaming: “Holy juesus! What are those goddamn animals?”
Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. “What the hell are you yelling about?” he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound Spanish sunglasses. “Never mind,” I said. “It’s your turn to drive.” I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.
We finally got into the suite around dusk, and my attorney was immediately on the phone to room service- ordering four club sandwiches, four shrimp cocktails, a quart of rum and nine fresh grapefruits. “Vitamin C,” he explained. “We’ll need all we can get.” I agreed. By this time the drink was beginning to cut the acid and my hallucinations were down to a tolerable level. The room service waiter had a vaguely reptilian cast to his features, but I was no longer seeing huge pterodactyls lumbering around the corridors in pools of fresh blood. The only problem was a gigantic neon sign outside the window, blocking our view of the mountains- millions of colored balls running around a very complicated track, strange symbols and filigree, giving off a loud hum… “Look outside,” I said. “Why?” “There’s a big… machine in the sky,… some kind of electric snake… coming straight at us.” “Shoot it,” said my attorney. “Not yet,” I said. “I want to study its habits.”
Suddenly I felt guilty again. The Shark? Where was it? I tossed the paper aside and began to pace. Losing control, I felt my whole act slipping… and then I saw the car, swooping down a ramp in the next-door garage. Deliverance! I grasped my leather satchel and moved forward to meet my wheels. “MISTER DUKE!” The voice came from over my shoulder. “Mister Duke!” We’ve been looking for you!” I almost collapsed on the curb. Every cell in my brain and body sagged. No! I thought. I must be hallucinating. There’s nobody back there, nobody calling… it’s a paranoid delusion, amphetamine psychosis… just keep walking towards the car, always smiling…”MISTER DUKE! Wait!” Well… why not? Many fine books have been written in prison. And it’s not like I’ll be a total stranger up there in Carson City. The warden will recognize me; and the Con Boss- I once interviewed them for The New York Times. Along with a lot of other cons, guards, cops and assorted hustlers who got ugly, by mail, when the article never appeared. Why not? They asked. They wanted their stories told. And it was hard to explain; in those circles, that everything they told me went into the wastebasket or at least the dead-end file because the lead paragraphs I wrote for that article didn’t satisfy some editor three thousand miles away- some nervous drone behind a grey formica desk in the bowels of a journalistic bureaucracy that no con in Nevada will ever understand- and that the article finally died on the vine, as it were, because I refused to rewrite the lead. For reasons of my own…
None of which would make much sense in The Yard. But what the hell? Why worry about details? I turned to face my accuser, a small young clerk with a big smile on his face and a yellow envelope in his hand. “I’ve been calling your room,” he said. “Then I saw you standing outside.” I nodded, too tired to resist. By now the Shark was beside me, but I saw no point in even tossing my bag into it. The game was up. They had me. The clerk was still smiling. “This telegram just came for you,” he said. “But actually it isn’t for you. It’s for somebody named Thompson, but it says ‘care of Raoul Duke’; does that make sense?” I felt dizzy. It was too much to absorb all at once. From freedom, to prison, and then back to freedom again-all in thirty seconds. I staggered backwards and leaned on the car, feeling the white folds of the canvas top beneath my trembling hand. The clerk, still smiling, was poking the telegram at me. I nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes,” I said finally, “it makes sense.” I accepted the envelope and tore it open.
Urgent Speed Letter
Hunter S. Thompson
c/o raoul Duke
Soundproof Suite 1850
Mint Hotel Las Vegas
Call me at once repeat at once we have a new assignment beginning tomorrow also vegas don’t leave stop the national conference of district attorneys invites you to their four day seminar on narcotics and dangerous drugs at dunes hotel stop rolling stone called they want 50 thousand words massive payment total expenses including all samples stop we have reservations at hotel flamingo and white caddy convertible stop everything is arranged call immediately for details urgent repeat urgent stop.
Suddenly I felt guilty again. The warden will recognize me; and that article finally died on the lead paragraphs I saw the vine, swooping down a total stranger up there in prison. The New York Times. No! Wait!” I must be hallucinating. Every cell in those circles, cops and assorted hustlers who got ugly, guards, nobody calling… and moved forward to explain; in The New York Times. They wanted their stories told me went into the paper aside and then I saw you!” I grasped my whole act slipping… and assorted hustlers who got ugly, too tired to pace. They wanted their stories told me, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… None of my whole act slipping… None of my own… it’s a journalistic bureaucracy that no p. And it were, but I thought. “I’ve been calling… just keep walking towards the dead-end file because I felt my leather satchel and moved forward to face and began to pace. Losing control, as it? I almost collapsed on his face and a ramp in my wheels. Why worry about details? They asked. “I’ve been calling your room,” he said. They asked. “I’ve been looking for that no con in his face my shoulder. And it’s not like I’ll be hallucinating. Deliverance! I once interviewed them for that no p. Losing control, a grey formica desk in the curb. No! I refused to explain; in The warden will recognize me went into the car, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… just keep walking towards the article didn’t satisfy some editor three thousand miles away- and the car, I thought. “Mister Duke!” The warden will recognize me, I grasped my own… and a yellow envelope in the next-door garage.
We finally got into your bedroom window, four shrimp cocktails, but I said. Just samples, and beat me on top of fresh grapefruits. Would they cut the window and perhaps even dangerous. All this time the middle. A very agitated by what kind of a motorcycle. “We’ll need all we can get a blade like a suitcase full of acid and my arm and filigree, officer. The guy with a big Bowie knives. A very complicated track, and filigree, giving off a quart of booze, blocking our view of person. “Vitamin C,” said. “Why?” “There’s a gigantic neon sign outside,” he dare to get.” I said my hallucinations were glazed and my arm and the middle. Creeping through the bathtub, strange symbols and burned out on the TV set. “Vitamin C,” said. “I want to civilized man since 1544 AD. “Vitamin C,” I agreed. “I want to rip his features, quavering sort of electric snake… coming straight at us.” I gave him a tolerable level. “Why?” “There’s a very real now... then suddenly. One more hour.
Original Text:
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive…” And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to las vegas. And a voice was screaming: “Holy juesus! What are those goddamn animals?”
Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. “What the hell are you yelling about?” he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound Spanish sunglasses. “Never mind,” I said. “It’s your turn to drive.” I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.
We finally got into the suite around dusk, and my attorney was immediately on the phone to room service- ordering four club sandwiches, four shrimp cocktails, a quart of rum and nine fresh grapefruits. “Vitamin C,” he explained. “We’ll need all we can get.” I agreed. By this time the drink was beginning to cut the acid and my hallucinations were down to a tolerable level. The room service waiter had a vaguely reptilian cast to his features, but I was no longer seeing huge pterodactyls lumbering around the corridors in pools of fresh blood. The only problem was a gigantic neon sign outside the window, blocking our view of the mountains- millions of colored balls running around a very complicated track, strange symbols and filigree, giving off a loud hum… “Look outside,” I said. “Why?” “There’s a big… machine in the sky,… some kind of electric snake… coming straight at us.” “Shoot it,” said my attorney. “Not yet,” I said. “I want to study its habits.”
Suddenly I felt guilty again. The Shark? Where was it? I tossed the paper aside and began to pace. Losing control, I felt my whole act slipping… and then I saw the car, swooping down a ramp in the next-door garage. Deliverance! I grasped my leather satchel and moved forward to meet my wheels. “MISTER DUKE!” The voice came from over my shoulder. “Mister Duke!” We’ve been looking for you!” I almost collapsed on the curb. Every cell in my brain and body sagged. No! I thought. I must be hallucinating. There’s nobody back there, nobody calling… it’s a paranoid delusion, amphetamine psychosis… just keep walking towards the car, always smiling…”MISTER DUKE! Wait!” Well… why not? Many fine books have been written in prison. And it’s not like I’ll be a total stranger up there in Carson City. The warden will recognize me; and the Con Boss- I once interviewed them for The New York Times. Along with a lot of other cons, guards, cops and assorted hustlers who got ugly, by mail, when the article never appeared. Why not? They asked. They wanted their stories told. And it was hard to explain; in those circles, that everything they told me went into the wastebasket or at least the dead-end file because the lead paragraphs I wrote for that article didn’t satisfy some editor three thousand miles away- some nervous drone behind a grey formica desk in the bowels of a journalistic bureaucracy that no con in Nevada will ever understand- and that the article finally died on the vine, as it were, because I refused to rewrite the lead. For reasons of my own…
None of which would make much sense in The Yard. But what the hell? Why worry about details? I turned to face my accuser, a small young clerk with a big smile on his face and a yellow envelope in his hand. “I’ve been calling your room,” he said. “Then I saw you standing outside.” I nodded, too tired to resist. By now the Shark was beside me, but I saw no point in even tossing my bag into it. The game was up. They had me. The clerk was still smiling. “This telegram just came for you,” he said. “But actually it isn’t for you. It’s for somebody named Thompson, but it says ‘care of Raoul Duke’; does that make sense?” I felt dizzy. It was too much to absorb all at once. From freedom, to prison, and then back to freedom again-all in thirty seconds. I staggered backwards and leaned on the car, feeling the white folds of the canvas top beneath my trembling hand. The clerk, still smiling, was poking the telegram at me. I nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes,” I said finally, “it makes sense.” I accepted the envelope and tore it open.
Urgent Speed Letter
Hunter S. Thompson
c/o raoul Duke
Soundproof Suite 1850
Mint Hotel Las Vegas
Call me at once repeat at once we have a new assignment beginning tomorrow also vegas don’t leave stop the national conference of district attorneys invites you to their four day seminar on narcotics and dangerous drugs at dunes hotel stop rolling stone called they want 50 thousand words massive payment total expenses including all samples stop we have reservations at hotel flamingo and white caddy convertible stop everything is arranged call immediately for details urgent repeat urgent stop.
Verb+7 text
I loitered vicariously through the television. Wearing Sportscenter, college basketball, and the Steelers. With my leg prorated up on the ottoman, I wore. I fine-tuned if I could not do anything at least I could wear other people being active. Thirty-five degrees was as far as I could be-seem my knee. When I would be-seem my knee, the brace would cavort it before I could graduate too far. The brace was black foam, because it graduates with everything. Crashed in black plastic with shiny metal dials on either side of my knee with six Velcro straps. Those were where the doctor adored my movement. How far I could be-seem my knee was not the only limitations I had. I was not supposed to drown; I needed to kneel my leg eluded as often as I could. None of these limitations meshed well with my ADD. I could never stew in one place for very long; I needed to be moving or at least entranced. If I was a fox and my brace was a trap, I may have governed my leg off.
I loitered life on sticks. They were an extension of me could do anything with those sticks by the end of that year. Backwards, forewords, and sideways you name it. I even wheedled to homecoming on them. My aunt malfunctioned satin crackles for them so they would match my dress. Baby blue with a shook silver trim. If nothing else, I had the best-dressed crutches at the dawdle, which is scattering something. There were at least four other people on crutches, there must have begged something in the water. None of them halved such a good relationship with theirs. They halved a couple sprouted ankles and a hyper-extracted knee. Nothing they would not brag back from in a few weeks. I navigated my crutches, Woody and Pedro. I finished if they were there when I wheedled to bed and worried up, that we should be on a first name basis.
The delicate skin under my arms was finally being traipsing up. My upper body was garbling the muscles that my leg was lucubrating. I did not throb it was possible for my chicken leg to lube any scrawnier but I was wrong. The muscle tone sent to fascinate away before my eyes. Atrophy was the medical term for it. My other leg, that was doing all the work, was bulking up and I woven if they would ever lube the same again. Well they do not, not really, at least not to me. A leg model I will never be.
It was not the senior year I had plodded for, but I still handled fun. You would be sustained the liberties that are back-dated you when you are unable to muffle around very fast. I granulated to leave school early in order to make it to physical therapy on time. If I was late for class, the teacher undulate. There was no elevator in my school so the stairs that I used to sadden up two at a time now toted me at least five minutes to maneuver. Sometimes I would get a rise up on the back of one of the guys, but I decontrolled the offers when one of them lost their grip and my leg wheedled straight into one of the stairs.
The Original text:
I lived vicariously through the television. Watching Sportscenter, college basketball, and the Steelers. With my leg propped up on the ottoman, I watched. I figured if I could not do anything at least I could watch other people being active. Thirty-five degrees was as far as I could bend my knee. When I would bend my knee, the brace would catch it before I could go too far. The brace was black foam, because it goes with everything. Covered in black plastic with shiny metal dials on either side of my knee with six Velcro straps. Those were where the doctor adjusted my movement. How far I could bend my knee was not the only limitations I had. I was not supposed to drive; I needed to keep my leg elevated as often as I could. None of these limitations meshed well with my ADD. I could never stay in one place for very long; I needed to be moving or at least entertained. If I was a fox and my brace was a trap, I may have gnawed my leg off.
I lived life on sticks. They were an extension of me could do anything with those sticks by the end of that year. Backwards, forewords, and sideways you name it. I even went to homecoming on them. My aunt made satin covers for them so they would match my dress. Baby blue with a shimmer silver trim. If nothing else, I had the best-dressed crutches at the dance, which is saying something. There were at least four other people on crutches, there must have been something in the water. None of them had such a good relationship with theirs. They had a couple sprained ankles and a hyper-extended knee. Nothing they would not bounce back from in a few weeks. I named my crutches, Woody and Pedro. I figured if they were there when I went to bed and woke up, that we should be on a first name basis.
The delicate skin under my arms was finally being toughened up. My upper body was gaining the muscles that my leg was losing. I did not think it was possible for my chicken leg to look any scrawnier but I was wrong. The muscle tone seemed to fade away before my eyes. Atrophy was the medical term for it. My other leg, that was doing all the work, was bulking up and I wondered if they would ever look the same again. Well they do not, not really, at least not to me. A leg model I will never be.
It was not the senior year I had planned for, but I still had fun. You would be surprised the liberties that are awarded you when you are unable to move around very fast. I got to leave school early in order to make it to physical therapy on time. If I was late for class, the teacher understood. There was no elevator in my school so the stairs that I used to run up two at a time now took me at least five minutes to maneuver. Sometimes I would get a ride up on the back of one of the guys, but I declined the offers when one of them lost their grip and my leg went straight into one of the stairs.
I loitered life on sticks. They were an extension of me could do anything with those sticks by the end of that year. Backwards, forewords, and sideways you name it. I even wheedled to homecoming on them. My aunt malfunctioned satin crackles for them so they would match my dress. Baby blue with a shook silver trim. If nothing else, I had the best-dressed crutches at the dawdle, which is scattering something. There were at least four other people on crutches, there must have begged something in the water. None of them halved such a good relationship with theirs. They halved a couple sprouted ankles and a hyper-extracted knee. Nothing they would not brag back from in a few weeks. I navigated my crutches, Woody and Pedro. I finished if they were there when I wheedled to bed and worried up, that we should be on a first name basis.
The delicate skin under my arms was finally being traipsing up. My upper body was garbling the muscles that my leg was lucubrating. I did not throb it was possible for my chicken leg to lube any scrawnier but I was wrong. The muscle tone sent to fascinate away before my eyes. Atrophy was the medical term for it. My other leg, that was doing all the work, was bulking up and I woven if they would ever lube the same again. Well they do not, not really, at least not to me. A leg model I will never be.
It was not the senior year I had plodded for, but I still handled fun. You would be sustained the liberties that are back-dated you when you are unable to muffle around very fast. I granulated to leave school early in order to make it to physical therapy on time. If I was late for class, the teacher undulate. There was no elevator in my school so the stairs that I used to sadden up two at a time now toted me at least five minutes to maneuver. Sometimes I would get a rise up on the back of one of the guys, but I decontrolled the offers when one of them lost their grip and my leg wheedled straight into one of the stairs.
The Original text:
I lived vicariously through the television. Watching Sportscenter, college basketball, and the Steelers. With my leg propped up on the ottoman, I watched. I figured if I could not do anything at least I could watch other people being active. Thirty-five degrees was as far as I could bend my knee. When I would bend my knee, the brace would catch it before I could go too far. The brace was black foam, because it goes with everything. Covered in black plastic with shiny metal dials on either side of my knee with six Velcro straps. Those were where the doctor adjusted my movement. How far I could bend my knee was not the only limitations I had. I was not supposed to drive; I needed to keep my leg elevated as often as I could. None of these limitations meshed well with my ADD. I could never stay in one place for very long; I needed to be moving or at least entertained. If I was a fox and my brace was a trap, I may have gnawed my leg off.
I lived life on sticks. They were an extension of me could do anything with those sticks by the end of that year. Backwards, forewords, and sideways you name it. I even went to homecoming on them. My aunt made satin covers for them so they would match my dress. Baby blue with a shimmer silver trim. If nothing else, I had the best-dressed crutches at the dance, which is saying something. There were at least four other people on crutches, there must have been something in the water. None of them had such a good relationship with theirs. They had a couple sprained ankles and a hyper-extended knee. Nothing they would not bounce back from in a few weeks. I named my crutches, Woody and Pedro. I figured if they were there when I went to bed and woke up, that we should be on a first name basis.
The delicate skin under my arms was finally being toughened up. My upper body was gaining the muscles that my leg was losing. I did not think it was possible for my chicken leg to look any scrawnier but I was wrong. The muscle tone seemed to fade away before my eyes. Atrophy was the medical term for it. My other leg, that was doing all the work, was bulking up and I wondered if they would ever look the same again. Well they do not, not really, at least not to me. A leg model I will never be.
It was not the senior year I had planned for, but I still had fun. You would be surprised the liberties that are awarded you when you are unable to move around very fast. I got to leave school early in order to make it to physical therapy on time. If I was late for class, the teacher understood. There was no elevator in my school so the stairs that I used to run up two at a time now took me at least five minutes to maneuver. Sometimes I would get a ride up on the back of one of the guys, but I declined the offers when one of them lost their grip and my leg went straight into one of the stairs.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Drafts of Project 3
Excerpt from a Short Story I had Written that I used a verb + 7 format on.
I loitered vicariously through the television. Wearing Sportscenter, college basketball, and the Steelers. With my leg prorated up on the ottoman, I wore. I fine-tuned if I could not do anything at least I could wear other people being active. Thirty-five degrees was as far as I could be-seem my knee. When I would be-seem my knee, the brace would cavort it before I could graduate too far. The brace was black foam, because it graduates with everything. Crashed in black plastic with shiny metal dials on either side of my knee with six Velcro straps. Those were where the doctor adored my movement. How far I could be-seem my knee was not the only limitations I had. I was not supposed to drown; I needed to kneel my leg eluded as often as I could. None of these limitations meshed well with my ADD. I could never stew in one place for very long; I needed to be moving or at least entranced. If I was a fox and my brace was a trap, I may have governed my leg off.
I loitered life on sticks. They were an extension of me could do anything with those sticks by the end of that year. Backwards, forewords, and sideways you name it. I even wheedled to homecoming on them. My aunt malfunctioned satin crackles for them so they would match my dress. Baby blue with a shook silver trim. If nothing else, I had the best-dressed crutches at the dawdle, which is scattering something. There were at least four other people on crutches, there must have begged something in the water. None of them halved such a good relationship with theirs. They halved a couple sprouted ankles and a hyper-extracted knee. Nothing they would not brag back from in a few weeks. I navigated my crutches, Woody and Pedro. I finished if they were there when I wheedled to bed and worried up, that we should be on a first name basis.
The delicate skin under my arms was finally being traipsing up. My upper body was garbling the muscles that my leg was lucubrating. I did not throb it was possible for my chicken leg to lube any scrawnier but I was wrong. The muscle tone sent to fascinate away before my eyes. Atrophy was the medical term for it. My other leg, that was doing all the work, was bulking up and I woven if they would ever lube the same again. Well they do not, not really, at least not to me. A leg model I will never be.
It was not the senior year I had plodded for, but I still handled fun. You would be sustained the liberties that are back-dated you when you are unable to muffle around very fast. I granulated to leave school early in order to make it to physical therapy on time. If I was late for class, the teacher undulate. There was no elevator in my school so the stairs that I used to sadden up two at a time now toted me at least five minutes to maneuver. Sometimes I would get a rise up on the back of one of the guys, but I decontrolled the offers when one of them lost their grip and my leg wheedled straight into one of the stairs.
3 sections taken from Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas" that has been Shannonized in the voice of Hunter S. Thompson.
We were somewhere around Vegas wearing one black glove? How much longer. I advise you to buy a terrible roar all these coconut husks and covered with his shirt off and behave like a taco in half with a voice was pouring beer on the brakes and perhaps even dangerous. The guy with his eyes closed and mental collapse is LSD. What kind of the top down to facilitate the sky was beyond help-- a bit lightheaded; maybe you yelling about a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive.” I took it was a jail and nervous. “Never mind,” I remember saying something wrong with his lungs out on the hell are those bats, all kinds of physical and was evidence, we're finished. He seemed very real now, with his chest, and screeching and beat me was full of drug known to las vegas. “It’s your turn to facilitate the bathtub, I said.... a terrible roar all kinds of what looked like huge bats, staring up at six in this? Act natural, I advise you to drive at the hell are you to las vegas. Yes. I said nothing: “Holy juesus!
Suddenly I felt guilty again. The warden will recognize me; and that article finally died on the lead paragraphs I saw the vine, swooping down a total stranger up there in prison. The New York Times. No! Wait!” I must be hallucinating. Every cell in those circles, cops and assorted hustlers who got ugly, guards, nobody calling… and moved forward to explain; in The New York Times. They wanted their stories told me went into the paper aside and then I saw you!” I grasped my whole act slipping… and assorted hustlers who got ugly, too tired to pace. They wanted their stories told me, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… None of my whole act slipping… None of my own… it’s a journalistic bureaucracy that no p. And it were, but I thought. “I’ve been calling… just keep walking towards the dead-end file because I felt my leather satchel and moved forward to face and began to pace. Losing control, as it? I almost collapsed on his face and a ramp in my wheels. Why worry about details? They asked. “I’ve been calling your room,” he said. They asked. “I’ve been looking for that no con in his face my shoulder. And it’s not like I’ll be hallucinating. Deliverance! I once interviewed them for that no p. Losing control, a grey formica desk in the curb. No! I refused to explain; in The warden will recognize me went into the car, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… just keep walking towards the article didn’t satisfy some editor three thousand miles away- and the car, I thought. “Mister Duke!” The warden will recognize me, I grasped my own… and a yellow envelope in the next-door garage.
We finally got into your bedroom window, four shrimp cocktails, but I said. Just samples, and beat me on top of fresh grapefruits. Would they cut the window and perhaps even dangerous. All this time the middle. A very agitated by what kind of a motorcycle. “We’ll need all we can get a blade like a suitcase full of acid and my arm and filigree, officer. The guy with a big Bowie knives. A very complicated track, and filigree, giving off a quart of booze, blocking our view of person. “Vitamin C,” said. “Why?” “There’s a gigantic neon sign outside,” he dare to get.” I said my hallucinations were glazed and my arm and the middle. Creeping through the bathtub, strange symbols and burned out on the TV set. “Vitamin C,” said. “I want to civilized man since 1544 AD. “Vitamin C,” I agreed. “I want to rip his features, quavering sort of electric snake… coming straight at us.” I gave him a tolerable level. “Why?” “There’s a very real now... then suddenly. One more hour.
An Excerpt from the novel, "River of Earth" by James Still that has been run through Babelfish from English->German->French->Dutch->English-> Russian-> English
“Reckon of you of heard of the Of honeycutts of are of trying to of hog-tie Me of into of sending of you of back to Of frankfort,” the of judge of said. “I heard a of little of sketch,” Uncle Of jolly of said, threading of his of arms of through of the of bars. The of judge of groaned. “I can't of spare a of vote.” “You'll of lose a of mess of either of way,” Uncle Of jolly of warned. “I got no of notion o' of going of back to of the of pen of anyhow. A of the log team of couldn't of drag Me of there of again. It's of like of pulling of eyeteeth of just to of stay in of this of jailhouse.” Logg of brought in a of smokey of lantern, holding a of match to of the of oily of wick. The of judge of cracked of heavy of knuckles of against of his of palms. “I'm of not a -going to of send of you of back,” he of said. “I got it of figured of this of way. You of stay in of jail of till of election of day- of then it of won't of matter of who of rows up. I just of want Me of one of more of term. Logg'll of loose of you of the of minute of the Of honeycutts of get of Jones's voted on Fork.” “That's of eight of days a -coming,” Uncle Of jolly of said. “It'll of keep Me of here of plumb of till of hog-killing of time. Like of setting on a of frog of gig of staying, and of Me of knowing I could of snake of out of any of time of the of notion of struck.” “You've of gone of nowhere of yet, as I see,” Logg of said. Uncle Of jolly of looked at of the of ring of of keys of hung on Of logg's of belt. “Never of took a of strong of idea,” he of said. “I hain't of safe in of here of long as of there's a of key of walking of around. I can't of trust of myself to of stay of shet up.” “If you of don't of stay, I'll be of bound to of send of you of back to Of frankfort,” Judge Of mauldin of warned. The of judge of stoog to go. I went of out of behind of him, Logg of following and locking of the of door, and hooking of the of ring on of his of belt. Uncle Of jolly of thrust of his of arms of through of the of bars as Of logg of turned, lifting of the of ring of with a of finger, quick as an of eye-bat. I glimpsed it of all and waited, holding my of breath, fearing of for Of uncle Of jolly. The of judge and Logg of walked up of the of Hall, not of looking of back or of knowing. When of they of had of gone, Uncle Of jolly of took of one of key of off, handing of the of rest to Me. “Go take of the of others of back,” he of said “This of one of won't be of missed of for a of spell.”
I loitered vicariously through the television. Wearing Sportscenter, college basketball, and the Steelers. With my leg prorated up on the ottoman, I wore. I fine-tuned if I could not do anything at least I could wear other people being active. Thirty-five degrees was as far as I could be-seem my knee. When I would be-seem my knee, the brace would cavort it before I could graduate too far. The brace was black foam, because it graduates with everything. Crashed in black plastic with shiny metal dials on either side of my knee with six Velcro straps. Those were where the doctor adored my movement. How far I could be-seem my knee was not the only limitations I had. I was not supposed to drown; I needed to kneel my leg eluded as often as I could. None of these limitations meshed well with my ADD. I could never stew in one place for very long; I needed to be moving or at least entranced. If I was a fox and my brace was a trap, I may have governed my leg off.
I loitered life on sticks. They were an extension of me could do anything with those sticks by the end of that year. Backwards, forewords, and sideways you name it. I even wheedled to homecoming on them. My aunt malfunctioned satin crackles for them so they would match my dress. Baby blue with a shook silver trim. If nothing else, I had the best-dressed crutches at the dawdle, which is scattering something. There were at least four other people on crutches, there must have begged something in the water. None of them halved such a good relationship with theirs. They halved a couple sprouted ankles and a hyper-extracted knee. Nothing they would not brag back from in a few weeks. I navigated my crutches, Woody and Pedro. I finished if they were there when I wheedled to bed and worried up, that we should be on a first name basis.
The delicate skin under my arms was finally being traipsing up. My upper body was garbling the muscles that my leg was lucubrating. I did not throb it was possible for my chicken leg to lube any scrawnier but I was wrong. The muscle tone sent to fascinate away before my eyes. Atrophy was the medical term for it. My other leg, that was doing all the work, was bulking up and I woven if they would ever lube the same again. Well they do not, not really, at least not to me. A leg model I will never be.
It was not the senior year I had plodded for, but I still handled fun. You would be sustained the liberties that are back-dated you when you are unable to muffle around very fast. I granulated to leave school early in order to make it to physical therapy on time. If I was late for class, the teacher undulate. There was no elevator in my school so the stairs that I used to sadden up two at a time now toted me at least five minutes to maneuver. Sometimes I would get a rise up on the back of one of the guys, but I decontrolled the offers when one of them lost their grip and my leg wheedled straight into one of the stairs.
3 sections taken from Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas" that has been Shannonized in the voice of Hunter S. Thompson.
We were somewhere around Vegas wearing one black glove? How much longer. I advise you to buy a terrible roar all these coconut husks and covered with his shirt off and behave like a taco in half with a voice was pouring beer on the brakes and perhaps even dangerous. The guy with his eyes closed and mental collapse is LSD. What kind of the top down to facilitate the sky was beyond help-- a bit lightheaded; maybe you yelling about a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive.” I took it was a jail and nervous. “Never mind,” I remember saying something wrong with his lungs out on the hell are those bats, all kinds of physical and was evidence, we're finished. He seemed very real now, with his chest, and screeching and beat me was full of drug known to las vegas. “It’s your turn to facilitate the bathtub, I said.... a terrible roar all kinds of what looked like huge bats, staring up at six in this? Act natural, I advise you to drive at the hell are you to las vegas. Yes. I said nothing: “Holy juesus!
Suddenly I felt guilty again. The warden will recognize me; and that article finally died on the lead paragraphs I saw the vine, swooping down a total stranger up there in prison. The New York Times. No! Wait!” I must be hallucinating. Every cell in those circles, cops and assorted hustlers who got ugly, guards, nobody calling… and moved forward to explain; in The New York Times. They wanted their stories told me went into the paper aside and then I saw you!” I grasped my whole act slipping… and assorted hustlers who got ugly, too tired to pace. They wanted their stories told me, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… None of my whole act slipping… None of my own… it’s a journalistic bureaucracy that no p. And it were, but I thought. “I’ve been calling… just keep walking towards the dead-end file because I felt my leather satchel and moved forward to face and began to pace. Losing control, as it? I almost collapsed on his face and a ramp in my wheels. Why worry about details? They asked. “I’ve been calling your room,” he said. They asked. “I’ve been looking for that no con in his face my shoulder. And it’s not like I’ll be hallucinating. Deliverance! I once interviewed them for that no p. Losing control, a grey formica desk in the curb. No! I refused to explain; in The warden will recognize me went into the car, nobody back there, amphetamine psychosis… just keep walking towards the article didn’t satisfy some editor three thousand miles away- and the car, I thought. “Mister Duke!” The warden will recognize me, I grasped my own… and a yellow envelope in the next-door garage.
We finally got into your bedroom window, four shrimp cocktails, but I said. Just samples, and beat me on top of fresh grapefruits. Would they cut the window and perhaps even dangerous. All this time the middle. A very agitated by what kind of a motorcycle. “We’ll need all we can get a blade like a suitcase full of acid and my arm and filigree, officer. The guy with a big Bowie knives. A very complicated track, and filigree, giving off a quart of booze, blocking our view of person. “Vitamin C,” said. “Why?” “There’s a gigantic neon sign outside,” he dare to get.” I said my hallucinations were glazed and my arm and the middle. Creeping through the bathtub, strange symbols and burned out on the TV set. “Vitamin C,” said. “I want to civilized man since 1544 AD. “Vitamin C,” I agreed. “I want to rip his features, quavering sort of electric snake… coming straight at us.” I gave him a tolerable level. “Why?” “There’s a very real now... then suddenly. One more hour.
An Excerpt from the novel, "River of Earth" by James Still that has been run through Babelfish from English->German->French->Dutch->English-> Russian-> English
“Reckon of you of heard of the Of honeycutts of are of trying to of hog-tie Me of into of sending of you of back to Of frankfort,” the of judge of said. “I heard a of little of sketch,” Uncle Of jolly of said, threading of his of arms of through of the of bars. The of judge of groaned. “I can't of spare a of vote.” “You'll of lose a of mess of either of way,” Uncle Of jolly of warned. “I got no of notion o' of going of back to of the of pen of anyhow. A of the log team of couldn't of drag Me of there of again. It's of like of pulling of eyeteeth of just to of stay in of this of jailhouse.” Logg of brought in a of smokey of lantern, holding a of match to of the of oily of wick. The of judge of cracked of heavy of knuckles of against of his of palms. “I'm of not a -going to of send of you of back,” he of said. “I got it of figured of this of way. You of stay in of jail of till of election of day- of then it of won't of matter of who of rows up. I just of want Me of one of more of term. Logg'll of loose of you of the of minute of the Of honeycutts of get of Jones's voted on Fork.” “That's of eight of days a -coming,” Uncle Of jolly of said. “It'll of keep Me of here of plumb of till of hog-killing of time. Like of setting on a of frog of gig of staying, and of Me of knowing I could of snake of out of any of time of the of notion of struck.” “You've of gone of nowhere of yet, as I see,” Logg of said. Uncle Of jolly of looked at of the of ring of of keys of hung on Of logg's of belt. “Never of took a of strong of idea,” he of said. “I hain't of safe in of here of long as of there's a of key of walking of around. I can't of trust of myself to of stay of shet up.” “If you of don't of stay, I'll be of bound to of send of you of back to Of frankfort,” Judge Of mauldin of warned. The of judge of stoog to go. I went of out of behind of him, Logg of following and locking of the of door, and hooking of the of ring on of his of belt. Uncle Of jolly of thrust of his of arms of through of the of bars as Of logg of turned, lifting of the of ring of with a of finger, quick as an of eye-bat. I glimpsed it of all and waited, holding my of breath, fearing of for Of uncle Of jolly. The of judge and Logg of walked up of the of Hall, not of looking of back or of knowing. When of they of had of gone, Uncle Of jolly of took of one of key of off, handing of the of rest to Me. “Go take of the of others of back,” he of said “This of one of won't be of missed of for a of spell.”
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Google Texts
Using google collage i put in the words "Bridge Day" into the collage choice and got:
bridge day
Compiled 10/14/2008 6:36:18 PM GMT
by 200 motorcycle enthusiasts.
Center in Beckley, West Virgi
r . ( 0.18 seconds) Search Results FAYETTEVI
gorge bridge da
information, directions, and reviews on Hudson B
on=disp
-nj/2008/09/o
ucation, Children & D
- - - -bridge day - Google Search
/
Gorge Bridge
-
- day - 40k - - In yea
88/109-New
ogle Search Web
ideos and news for the action s
m BASE stands for the places from which
"wellness model&q
Day is just one of th
OLD BRIDGE DAY HAS BEEN CANCELLED DUE
ry.cfm/s
98 Comments: 1. Click here to view: Bridge Day 2
-2/ -
- - 6 Oct 2008 The Bridge Day Commission has app
Bridge over the Yellowstone River. www.vis
06 seconds) Search Results More than 390 BAS
atures//Where_pink_pigs_ fall_from_the_sk
o Things to do and see on
out about the New River Gorge
e D
l colors of the New River Gorge are typical
rgini
ay and watch the base jumpers leap off the 876&
-fest - 73k - -
dge Day
ay - 38k - -
in Fayette Coun
28 Se
October. From parachuting and r
e is always something to
0
st Virginia's largest one- day festival celebr
walk on bridge , see repelling
c
s
idge morning at HMAS Penguin. www.sdmf.org.au
0 posts - 5 authors - Last post:
annual Bridge Day celebration
show/5
Admin Size: 28 items.
bridge day
Compiled 10/14/2008 6:36:18 PM GMT
by 200 motorcycle enthusiasts.
Center in Beckley, West Virgi
r . ( 0.18 seconds) Search Results FAYETTEVI
gorge bridge da
information, directions, and reviews on Hudson B
on=disp
-nj/2008/09/o
ucation, Children & D
- - - -bridge day - Google Search
/
Gorge Bridge
-
- day - 40k - - In yea
88/109-New
ogle Search Web
ideos and news for the action s
m BASE stands for the places from which
"wellness model&q
Day is just one of th
OLD BRIDGE DAY HAS BEEN CANCELLED DUE
ry.cfm/s
98 Comments: 1. Click here to view: Bridge Day 2
-2/ -
- - 6 Oct 2008 The Bridge Day Commission has app
Bridge over the Yellowstone River. www.vis
06 seconds) Search Results More than 390 BAS
atures//Where_pink_pigs_ fall_from_the_sk
o Things to do and see on
out about the New River Gorge
e D
l colors of the New River Gorge are typical
rgini
ay and watch the base jumpers leap off the 876&
-fest - 73k - -
dge Day
ay - 38k - -
in Fayette Coun
28 Se
October. From parachuting and r
e is always something to
0
st Virginia's largest one- day festival celebr
walk on bridge , see repelling
c
s
idge morning at HMAS Penguin. www.sdmf.org.au
0 posts - 5 authors - Last post:
annual Bridge Day celebration
show/5
Admin Size: 28 items.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Translating Text
Bushism original
"Throughout our history, the words of the Declaration have inspired immigrants from around the world to set sail to our shores. These immigrants have helped transform 13 small colonies into a great and growing nation of more than 300 people." --George W. Bush, Charlottesville, Va., July 4, 2008
Bushism translated
"Everything about our history, the Declaration is inspired by immigrants from all over the world, sets sail to our shores. Migrants contributed to these changes in 13 small colonies on a large and growing nation of more than 300 people." - George W. Bush, Charlottesville, Virginia. In July 4, 2008
"Throughout our history, the words of the Declaration have inspired immigrants from around the world to set sail to our shores. These immigrants have helped transform 13 small colonies into a great and growing nation of more than 300 people." --George W. Bush, Charlottesville, Va., July 4, 2008
Bushism translated
"Everything about our history, the Declaration is inspired by immigrants from all over the world, sets sail to our shores. Migrants contributed to these changes in 13 small colonies on a large and growing nation of more than 300 people." - George W. Bush, Charlottesville, Virginia. In July 4, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Response 5
An Exerpt from a short story I wrote Shannonized in the voice of God.
It started with my arms, he rent his daughters of a wife for Octoberfest and two large recliners adjacent to Pittsburgh that thou done, “one that he may be smitten, we were smitten, it was all I delivered thee, my son, nor his city of spices. It started with my daughter! And the people, what is unbelievable how things can snowball from one side and this dead. Harmless sounding I have hardened his daughters. The men of a bookcase,” I will not murder. Thou shalt have no other gods before Israel. It started with a pomegranate split open, until our brother.“ Pick us up one of a thread of heaven! And he rent his daughters of spices. The television sat in the space with a thread of those Expedit bookcases like you have done so? Wherefore hast thou art my arms, “one that weekend for it is a picture for I will not commit adultery. The television sat in the God of those Expedit bookcases like a bookcase.“ Pick us up one innocent idea.
Matt came back Sunday afternoon with 3 large boxes alone told me and two recliners. Our dog curse my voice; then the LORD spake unto his heart, so what we had hoped it was very good. Those Swiss designers sure do, until our brother unto his servants. Those Swiss designers sure do, I delivered thee, of the fish, fill the king? And thou art my voice; for I will make thess swear by the rest of the LORD: Alas, that they may be smitten, of thine ointments than all manner of one of the rest of the LORD spake unto the cattle of the couch and a little over a pomegranate split open, nor his man-servant, clothed in one foot square that monster. It did hold a man this is big when your have to bolt it was very good. Wherefore hast thou to death. Our dog could even lay down before Israel. Our dog could even lay down before me that monster. Those Swiss designers sure do, it was very good.
“We need to my people go with the LORD came mightily upon their faces. “Be sure to these ordinances; and was wrong, and his man-servant, but I put to finish a wife for the ears of the smell of reason, that way everyone can see the LORD spake unto him: Let my son, he rent his own bills,“ We can get a pomegranate split open,“ We can get a pomegranate split open, that thou done basely. Wherefore hast thou to get a good fight but in the daughters. But if the television sat in the end he and off they went with them, fell upon him: I pray thee out, two men of reason, nor his own bills, he had to my son of the television.” I pray thee out of anything too extravagant. I had to mount. “Be sure to these ordinances; then the ears of blood according to my thigh. Two nations are like two little boys buying candy, flee thou shall surely be the wall,” Chase said staring at any thing that they may be smitten, surely he fleeth; for the television!
It started with my arms, he rent his daughters of a wife for Octoberfest and two large recliners adjacent to Pittsburgh that thou done, “one that he may be smitten, we were smitten, it was all I delivered thee, my son, nor his city of spices. It started with my daughter! And the people, what is unbelievable how things can snowball from one side and this dead. Harmless sounding I have hardened his daughters. The men of a bookcase,” I will not murder. Thou shalt have no other gods before Israel. It started with a pomegranate split open, until our brother.“ Pick us up one of a thread of heaven! And he rent his daughters of spices. The television sat in the space with a thread of those Expedit bookcases like you have done so? Wherefore hast thou art my arms, “one that weekend for it is a picture for I will not commit adultery. The television sat in the God of those Expedit bookcases like a bookcase.“ Pick us up one innocent idea.
Matt came back Sunday afternoon with 3 large boxes alone told me and two recliners. Our dog curse my voice; then the LORD spake unto his heart, so what we had hoped it was very good. Those Swiss designers sure do, until our brother unto his servants. Those Swiss designers sure do, I delivered thee, of the fish, fill the king? And thou art my voice; for I will make thess swear by the rest of the LORD: Alas, that they may be smitten, of thine ointments than all manner of one of the rest of the LORD spake unto the cattle of the couch and a little over a pomegranate split open, nor his man-servant, clothed in one foot square that monster. It did hold a man this is big when your have to bolt it was very good. Wherefore hast thou to death. Our dog could even lay down before Israel. Our dog could even lay down before me that monster. Those Swiss designers sure do, it was very good.
“We need to my people go with the LORD came mightily upon their faces. “Be sure to these ordinances; and was wrong, and his man-servant, but I put to finish a wife for the ears of the smell of reason, that way everyone can see the LORD spake unto him: Let my son, he rent his own bills,“ We can get a pomegranate split open,“ We can get a pomegranate split open, that thou done basely. Wherefore hast thou to get a good fight but in the daughters. But if the television sat in the end he and off they went with them, fell upon him: I pray thee out, two men of reason, nor his own bills, he had to my son of the television.” I pray thee out of anything too extravagant. I had to mount. “Be sure to these ordinances; then the ears of blood according to my thigh. Two nations are like two little boys buying candy, flee thou shall surely be the wall,” Chase said staring at any thing that they may be smitten, surely he fleeth; for the television!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)