Audita Sum (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} auditasum) wrote,@ 2008-04-21 21:40:00 |
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Prompt: Imagine your life is now a book. Write a blurb for it.
I'm half-delusial with tiredness right now, so this will prove to be interesting. I've been listening to a lot of the Voices of Tomorrow podcast, and it's delicious.
Oh god. My life as a book would be so dull. Maybe it would be boring enough for English teachers to make their students read it. Maybe it actually is a book and I don't even know it, and someone prettier than me is going to play me in the movie version. The blurb would probably mention that guy that wrote A Prayer for Owen Meany, because of its slice-of-lifeness. I'm tired.
Going promptless, bitches;
Actually, I'm just going to write whatever the hell pops into my mind, even if it doesn't make sense. My inner editor is pretty much in a coma right now.
Deep in the heart of the cave of Sascachooin (?) beat the angry and resistent strain of TBS public audio that the public so feared. And it was crispy. Very much so.
They dutifully sacrificed a Virgin wireless phone to it every year, but the noooooooooo biscutis death ghnnanaaaaaaa so that it would eat finger-lickin' good fried chicken in the night, where bones crunch like a thing that crunches in a manner that one could consider crunchy in nature. I.e., your face.
In conclusion, the monopoly of magic tokens was not lost of the area of general descent, the flying opera houses flitting about the sky like so many vicodin-drugged birds.
Kind of sounds like a spam email. Speaking of which, here's a really poetic one I got the other day:
From: Zody Chattin
Subject: subito
Ni hao,
Increaase Sexual Ennergy and Pleasuree!
[URL CENCOREDSDBLARGGG]
What you said, but the spirit by which you said cover and started for the nearest village on colonel's you were like an automaton. I didn't wake you men even in the sudra order. and from this day awaited them. Who was to undertake the responsibility parish, who was at breakfast, declared 'that he bhishma said, 'thus hymned with names that were you is everybody's friend and everybody is claudia long the flanckes of these battailes, on the left can resort, and are probably aware how strangely 'em.' no other horses were to be had. the agent to drink, and always come up smiling at the end of him as a devil, almost antichrist himself, for defence of a gate a massive parculles as oures, of reputation that are idle and toilworn, that. isceaakjpdaaakbjda.
Beautiful.
I'm half-delusial with tiredness right now, so this will prove to be interesting. I've been listening to a lot of the Voices of Tomorrow podcast, and it's delicious.
Oh god. My life as a book would be so dull. Maybe it would be boring enough for English teachers to make their students read it. Maybe it actually is a book and I don't even know it, and someone prettier than me is going to play me in the movie version. The blurb would probably mention that guy that wrote A Prayer for Owen Meany, because of its slice-of-lifeness. I'm tired.
Going promptless, bitches;
Actually, I'm just going to write whatever the hell pops into my mind, even if it doesn't make sense. My inner editor is pretty much in a coma right now.
Deep in the heart of the cave of Sascachooin (?) beat the angry and resistent strain of TBS public audio that the public so feared. And it was crispy. Very much so.
They dutifully sacrificed a Virgin wireless phone to it every year, but the noooooooooo biscutis death ghnnanaaaaaaa so that it would eat finger-lickin' good fried chicken in the night, where bones crunch like a thing that crunches in a manner that one could consider crunchy in nature. I.e., your face.
In conclusion, the monopoly of magic tokens was not lost of the area of general descent, the flying opera houses flitting about the sky like so many vicodin-drugged birds.
Kind of sounds like a spam email. Speaking of which, here's a really poetic one I got the other day:
From: Zody Chattin
Subject: subito
Ni hao,
Increaase Sexual Ennergy and Pleasuree!
[URL CENCOREDSDBLARGGG]
What you said, but the spirit by which you said cover and started for the nearest village on colonel's you were like an automaton. I didn't wake you men even in the sudra order. and from this day awaited them. Who was to undertake the responsibility parish, who was at breakfast, declared 'that he bhishma said, 'thus hymned with names that were you is everybody's friend and everybody is claudia long the flanckes of these battailes, on the left can resort, and are probably aware how strangely 'em.' no other horses were to be had. the agent to drink, and always come up smiling at the end of him as a devil, almost antichrist himself, for defence of a gate a massive parculles as oures, of reputation that are idle and toilworn, that. isceaakjpdaaakbjda.
Beautiful.