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[Mafia] Experiences With Time Travel (Meeting Hitler and Other Tales), the Art of Making Roosters out of Papier-mâché, and Pleading 'Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity' in an American Courtroom (Game Over; Mafia Win)

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  • 3 weeks later...

I like how my threads stay pinned for so long, but, then again, I don't. :(

 

Would anyone still like to see a new game started? I am able and willing to host and will give the game another dank title.

 

By the bye, does anyone here reminisce about having a childhood imagination? Most particularly I miss it because I feel like I have the creative talents and articulateness to write a sophisticated work of fiction today but lack some aspect of the imagination that's necessary for good storytelling, whereas in my childhood I have a more vibrant imagination and creative instinct (or at least romanticize that I did) but did not have the verbal intelligence and ability to write something decent and engaging. As, say, an eight-year-old I obviously had a complete non-exposure to proper writings, fewer and younger experiences in the world to inspire fiction writing as compared to the me of today, and a poor grasp of--and feel for--the English language, especially as conveyed through the medium of text rather than speech. But I had a fresh perspective or way of looking at the world. And I had--although a juvenile one--an ability to make stories with characters who had traits and goals and opinions and values- stories with climaxes and protagonists and lots of details, and I was only constrained in the length of thought or writing by my capacity for giving it attention and not the number of ideas I had, which is what stumps me today. I think, while overall I look back on my childhood with a feeling of nostalgia, I would not want to revisit it or regress in age if I had a magic dial with such a function. I am an adult, have adult interests, enjoy the freedoms being an adult affords me, etc. All I want from that age is the new view, weird insights, and vibrant mind that would allow me to give character and other stuff to creative pursuits, but I want to retain everything I have now that allows me to apply it, including my memories, freedoms, lot in life, and a brain developed to my current age. Whenever I try to write something creative now, my mind is empty and I can't think of anything. I have nothing but fragmented passages for which I have provided nor thought of any context. I hope that, on their own, they stand as interesting pieces and solid demonstrations of prose, but having a few 250-500-word blurbs with no real meaning in terms of plot or story development--or which feature any actual characters I intend to have in my novel--is not something to be proud of on a personal or artistic level. I have, actually, nothing in my head that resembles a plot, plot device, plot structure, or anything otherwise plotty or related to plots, hoes, or gardening utensils. Wait- have I ever told you the story of when I was a ho--allegedly? I mean, I wasn't actually a ho. It was a mix up of hoes and hos that's truly a great example of my dumb thought processes, and it came up when I was summoned to court for a broken taillight which escalated to a possession charge, and this all happened in... I think it was May? of '86, back when the police started cracking down on broken taillights, or so I assume they did, out of some prejudice toward me, just as my taillight had broken in the one week of the month I didn't have the money to fix it, due to my rent date and pay day being at odd intersections of the same street. So I was in court, like I said, right? And I was asked, under oath, what my occupation was, and I was very nervous. The answer was simple; I worked at a small landscaping company for a man whom I'm still friends with, actually. On that week in particular, I was using a hoe (although I usually didn't) to till a bunch of land in the genuinely huge back yard of an elderly couple who wanted to use it for gardening ungodly amounts of sunflowers as well as tomatoes and strawberries if my memory is correct. So I said 'hoe' loudly, stopped talking because I didn't know how to proceed the thought or sentence, embarrassing myself into not talking for a few seconds, and the judge said 'ummm' quietly and began saying something else when I then interjected something like 'hoe. I use hoes to, uh, I'm like, I don't usually do this, but I'm a landscaper and this week I'm using a hoe to till a large garden. I realize I should've just said landscaper,' and the judge paused for a few seconds and then continued asking questions, and I think she smirked lmao. Anyway, that landscaping gig was sweet, and I was there for well over a decade. Like I said, I'm still friends with my boss, who put on a bunch of weight after he retired and loves the Canucks, as it happens. We had some pretty scary incidents on the job but neither of us, or any other employees of the company, ever lost any appendages or suffered severe injuries, although there were two concussions that I can quickly remember. One of the worst moments--and it only lasted a second, but one of the worst moments for me on that job--was when I fell down a bluff that I thought was high enough to kill me. Technically I was only falling for a few feet before I began sliding down the rock and dirt at /just barely/ enough of an angle that I was unhurt by the time I stopped skidding on the ground. My boss, whom, like I said, I'm still friends with, felt bad and offered to buy me tickets to an event he was going to with his wife already prior to the incident, and I jumped on it because it seemed fun and brought one of my friends along with the extra ticket and we sat next to the boss and his wife. It was a wrestling match in 1998 wherein The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, who then plummeted 16 ft through an announcer’s table.

Edited by Two one one
  • Like 3
Link to comment
22 hours ago, Dral said:

1df14c3a9e65555bbc10cfd61ca01212fcd58166

On 3/8/2018 at 7:06 PM, Two one one said:

I like how my threads stay pinned for so long, but, then again, I don't. :(

 

Would anyone still like to see a new game started? I am able and willing to host and will give the game another dank title.

 

By the bye, does anyone here reminisce about having a childhood imagination? Most particularly I miss it because I feel like I have the creative talents and articulateness to write a sophisticated work of fiction today but lack some aspect of the imagination that's necessary for good storytelling, whereas in my childhood I have a more vibrant imagination and creative instinct (or at least romanticize that I did) but did not have the verbal intelligence and ability to write something decent and engaging. As, say, an eight-year-old I obviously had a complete non-exposure to proper writings, fewer and younger experiences in the world to inspire fiction writing as compared to the me of today, and a poor grasp of--and feel for--the English language, especially as conveyed through the medium of text rather than speech. But I had a fresh perspective or way of looking at the world. And I had--although a juvenile one--an ability to make stories with characters who had traits and goals and opinions and values- stories with climaxes and protagonists and lots of details, and I was only constrained in the length of thought or writing by my capacity for giving it attention and not the number of ideas I had, which is what stumps me today. I think, while overall I look back on my childhood with a feeling of nostalgia, I would not want to revisit it or regress in age if I had a magic dial with such a function. I am an adult, have adult interests, enjoy the freedoms being an adult affords me, etc. All I want from that age is the new view, weird insights, and vibrant mind that would allow me to give character and other stuff to creative pursuits, but I want to retain everything I have now that allows me to apply it, including my memories, freedoms, lot in life, and a brain developed to my current age. Whenever I try to write something creative now, my mind is empty and I can't think of anything. I have nothing but fragmented passages for which I have provided nor thought of any context. I hope that, on their own, they stand as interesting pieces and solid demonstrations of prose, but having a few 250-500-word blurbs with no real meaning in terms of plot or story development--or which feature any actual characters I intend to have in my novel--is not something to be proud of on a personal or artistic level. I have, actually, nothing in my head that resembles a plot, plot device, plot structure, or anything otherwise plotty or related to plots, hoes, or gardening utensils. Wait- have I ever told you the story of when I was a ho--allegedly? I mean, I wasn't actually a ho. It was a mix up of hoes and hos that's truly a great example of my dumb thought processes, and it came up when I was summoned to court for a broken taillight which escalated to a possession charge, and this all happened in... I think it was May? of '86, back when the police started cracking down on broken taillights, or so I assume they did, out of some prejudice toward me, just as my taillight had broken in the one week of the month I didn't have the money to fix it, due to my rent date and pay day being at odd intersections of the same street. So I was in court, like I said, right? And I was asked, under oath, what my occupation was, and I was very nervous. The answer was simple; I worked at a small landscaping company for a man whom I'm still friends with, actually. On that week in particular, I was using a hoe (although I usually didn't) to till a bunch of land in the genuinely huge back yard of an elderly couple who wanted to use it for gardening ungodly amounts of sunflowers as well as tomatoes and strawberries if my memory is correct. So I said 'hoe' loudly, stopped talking because I didn't know how to proceed the thought or sentence, embarrassing myself into not talking for a few seconds, and the judge said 'ummm' quietly and began saying something else when I then interjected something like 'hoe. I use hoes to, uh, I'm like, I don't usually do this, but I'm a landscaper and this week I'm using a hoe to till a large garden. I realize I should've just said landscaper,' and the judge paused for a few seconds and then continued asking questions, and I think she smirked lmao. Anyway, that landscaping gig was sweet, and I was there for well over a decade. Like I said, I'm still friends with my boss, who put on a bunch of weight after he retired and loves the Canucks, as it happens. We had some pretty scary incidents on the job but neither of us, or any other employees of the company, ever lost any appendages or suffered severe injuries, although there were two concussions that I can quickly remember. One of the worst moments--and it only lasted a second, but one of the worst moments for me on that job--was when I fell down a bluff that I thought was high enough to kill me. Technically I was only falling for a few feet before I began sliding down the rock and dirt at /just barely/ enough of an angle that I was unhurt by the time I stopped skidding on the ground. My boss, whom, like I said, I'm still friends with, felt bad and offered to buy me tickets to an event he was going to with his wife already prior to the incident, and I jumped on it because it seemed fun and brought one of my friends along with the extra ticket and we sat next to the boss and his wife. It was a wrestling match in 1998 wherein The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, who then plummeted 16 ft through an announcer’s table.

 

 

 

unless of course this is the title to the game you're about to host, in which case I take back everything I said and approve wholeheartedly

Edited by Dral
  • Like 1
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On 3/10/2018 at 12:56 PM, Two one one said:

I'll have a thread up probably tomorrow despite the lack of expressed interest and will hope for a decent and respectable turnout.

Did they change the definition of the word "tomorrow" ?

 

:(

 

I want my +1's back

  • Like 1
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  • 3 weeks later...

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