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Thread: Seven and a half minutes worth of writing

  1. #1
    <3 gator's Avatar
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    Seven and a half minutes worth of writing



    Try this and post the results. Don't think too much - just write.

  2. #2
    <3 gator's Avatar
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    I was standing in the middle of the driveway, holding a basketball. The basketball was embossed with a stippled pattern and its brand name - Spalding NBA pro embossed on it. My parents had just bought it for me and filled it up with air and I was taking it out for the first time.

    I stood at the end of the driveway with the ball, underneath the purple leaves of the plum tree, at a loss as to what to do. I had a vague notion that practice made perfect but I didn't know what would make me better. At school it seemed as if I'd reached the height of everything I could accomplish. I was good at academics and good at community service but sports was my Achilles heel. I just couldn't seem to make the cut for anything. An attempt at the try-outs for the basketball team had led to me walking home in a huff. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't what they wanted. I sucked. I was rejected.

    My parents had purchased a ball for me - the basketball I was holding. I let the air tousle the flyways in my hair. I wasn't sure what to do with it. I let it fall to the ground and it bounced dully on the asphalt, making a deep ringing sound and not coming back up as fast or as high as I'd intended, or as I'd expected. At school the balls were lighter, smaller. You could bounce one almost to the ceiling of the gym if you wanted. This one dwarfed my hands and I had a hard time spreading my fingers along it. Maybe it didn't have enough air.

    I began to dribble and walk around. Without a hoop I didn't know what else I could do so I dribbled in a circle. I wanted some guidance at that moment. For a moment I wished that I had one of those dads you saw on TV who were there with their kids, throwing the ball, coaching. I got tired and went home, packed away my ball and my dreams of the basketball team.

  3. #3
    Mens bona regnum possidet ferrus's Avatar
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    You may find this helps, though you probably want to keep trying it until it gives you something sensible.

    Much of the differences one notices between people relates to their ability to resist temptation, to dictate their own fates. Centuries of Christian indoctrination have dictated that this is primarily a moral issue, a following of God's commandment - so that firmly Catholic (and Protestant) moral judgements are made by people otherwise professing themselves as atheistic, whether the an atheist of the right or the left. But it is really more of an issue of neural control. Some people seem to be guided by more atavistic brain functions - emotions, addictions - be they drugs, sex or food - and an inability not to spend money or invest it except now. It is a trait that is almost always found in people of low intelligence, but only partially in those of high intelligence. It would seem to be a reflection of the frontal cortex's capacity to assert itself. For myself, I find it impossible to rationally control myself with regards to eating without forcing myself to run out of money so that I don't gluttonously consume more than I should. The rational part almost has to set up, cage the irrational part.

    My dad is... well someone who is not especially smart, he's not stupid but nothing special. He's hardworking and stable. He has no problems coping with addictions. He was able to quit smoking at 21 after 5 years or so of doing so simply in a day. Such will-power is strange to me. I know well never to touch a cigarette - a habit for me would be next to impossible to break.

    I see this in a friend of mine. We finished the same degree back in September. He is one of the smartest people I have ever met. He has almost no control over his addiction to alcohol and cocaine though. He had been clean from coke for nearly 5 years - the reason he'd never been to university before was because he'd spent his life as a dealer, whilst living at his parents - but he decided in Prague to take some. He'd let the cage free and out came the beast to devour them. Just this morning - at 6am - he sent me a text message to say he was so fucked he couldn't walk. At his sister's wedding. He seems to be self-destructing, and his chances of getting back into software development or doing a P.h.D will slip away as a consequence of this behaviour. He knows this. But his rational mind let its guard down.

    To go full circle - tempters are clearly psycho-neurological triggers. Instead of casting it as some kind of black-white moral issue, it seems more sensible to see it as a scientific issue with a scientific solution. I find the hostility to this troubling. Like much ideologically motivated thought, it seems based on a concept of human nature that is at odds with evidence, but fulfils some kind of meta-narrative - and perhaps this is socially necessary - in which freewill, that illogical concept, must assert itself so that some kind of social ostracism can grip down and remove the anomaly. Perhaps it is a rationalisation - a sop to our consciousness - for the very same evolutionary stable solutions Dawkins mentions... the one where reciprocal altruism must always be tempered with a desire to punish cheaters. Our rationality desires a nice story though - a justification which allows us to avert our eyes from a merely instrumental way of seeing people and human society. This undoubtedly has salutary effects to prevent manipulation. But it is also codified absurdism.
    Die Logik ist keine Lehre, sondern ein Spiegelbild der Welt. Die Logik ist transcendental. - Wittgenstein

  4. #4
    TJ TeresaJ's Avatar
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    We are twenty years old - young and foolish and free. We had been wandering all morning, so it was good to find those cheap meat pies, good to buy that corkscrew, good to open up this sweet and heavy honey wine.

    Tipsy at lunchtime. Does that mother taking her child to the playground notice us?

    We are travelers. We are truants. We are free. Does she censor us? Here we don't care what anyone thinks.

    We are young. We are careless. This country is full of rude and uncouth youth.

    After staying in that cramped, damp corner of Hull, York seems sophisticated. Roman. Civilized.

    This is the most delicious wine I have ever tasted.

    These cheap, greasy pies settle the stomach well.

  5. #5
    igKnight Hephaestus's Avatar
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    The sands of time abrade memory like rosin on a gemstone. But unlike the latter, not all memories start as gemstones. The irony of this is that some of the worst memories can be remade into shining brilliance, if only we can survive them. The tragedy is that this isn't universally true. The consolation: most memories are forgotten.

    A journal makes for a strange bedfellow because in effect you seek to become your own stranger. There is a fantasy in the heart of every successful journalist that they will forget what they've written. That some day, they will be procrastinating at tidying up and come across an old composition notebook, flip open to a random page, and see a mystery in their own handwriting. This fantasy is watered most by the number of events where said journalist opens to a random page with something pithy like:

    April 14th. This is the best day I've ever had.

    There might even be a year there, but invariably, the author of such a notation will have no idea what wondrous even this refers to, and will scavenge their mind for the best day they ever had. If they are from the US, they will have the added mystery of wondering if it refers to the size of their tax refund. But in the end, while it may provoke the desired nostalgia, and even that of happy events, it will not result in knowing with certainty what that event was.

    This is actually a blessing in disguise. The worst thing that can happen to a person is to know what the best day of their life is. If known beforehand, it puts so much pressure on the day that it can't help but be a disappointment. If in passing, well, it's tough to accept that you've peaked. And no matter how good a day is, you always want moar. It would be a rare and momentous event indeed to have a day which ended with satisfaction that you would never be that happy ever again.

  6. #6
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    I am on a beautiful beach and the sun is warming my skin. The ocean is glistening and I feel calm and happy. I look up at the trees which grow along the beach and observe sweet little birds sitting and chirping, a lovely peaceful sound, I envy their indifference and their freedom. I keep walking until I am so sweaty the cool clear water lures me in. Naked, I run into the oceans cool embrace. I feel so alive and inburdened. I like the feeling of being under the water and surrounded by it. Shades of blue dominate my vision sparkling in the brilliant sunlight as I float and wonder of how little I am in contrast to the emensity of the world, time, existence. I wish I could transcend this body and disappear into space. My earthly concerns seem silly and pointless

  7. #7
    fuck the chupacabra Randall's Avatar
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    I've been staring at this blank screen for seven minutes already? What the fuck brain?!

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