Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Big Clock on Bookcase


Pansi's & Weirsdo's Story
Barbierella had drunk a little to much punch at the ball, so it wasn't till sometime after midnite that she noticed the change!!!! The Prints was just a ordinary guy in unstylish close, and his dad looked like a white-hared neanderthol!!!!! The other guests were just as looser-looking, and worst of all the ball room had turned into a LIBERRY!!!!!
Barbierella just stood at the top of the liberry steps and screamed!!!!!!
The paranormal investigator on the other side of the clock just stared blankly from his extrasensory eyes. He could not understand why the owners of the house had asked him to examine the Barbie doll lying at the top of the library steps. Why didn't they just pick the thing up?


Miles to Go's Story
Looming over them is an archaic symbol of time seemingly ignored but whomever inhabits its space is made aware of their own time and their possibilities or regressions.

At this very moment, the man in the white shirt's fleeting thoughts of sexual intimacy was denied again and this time by the flooded white flash of intrusion.

And there the man in the gray shirt has been living a life of mired indeterminacies. There is an underlying rage about his unconcious thoughts. Thoughts reacting to flows of sensless wanderings and are bubbling near the surface to hurt those around him.

The person with the white hair has thought of the mistake at dinner when her son chose not to live there anymore. Her wide eyes displays angst about facing time alone without the son and it feels like the dusty caked mouths created by the desert Santa Ana Winds.

Separate and disparaged lives brought together by this symbol of time. To satisfy any yearning for them, one must continue to visit this archaic symbol and who knows you may share where they would go or end up.

Doug's Story
Morale had been poor at Biddle, Bottle and Sons Accounting. The stenos, book-keepers and accountants were upset that management wouldn't give them computers so they could blog ("only when it's slow",) wouldn't give them calculators on which to type 0.7734 or other upside-down messages and wouldn't allow straws for the occassional spit-ball contest. In such a serious environment, the staff sat at their desks, watching the clock and wishing for a distraction that might make the day move a little faster.


Viruswitch's Story
The students of Dresden Technical University where obliged to attend lectures in the Museum that day. It was a fabulous museum that showed the advance of the mechanisms of clocks and watches, through the ages. There was also a section with some very old telescopes, maps and glasses which everyone found breathtaking. Sebastian was also looking at all clocks he found, holding his breath, placing his hand over his mouth, almost as if he was greately shocked. "What is it?" asked him Tonja, "Dont you like the design or what?". "No, thats not it" replied Sebastian, slightly laughing. "Its just that all clocks show that its time to urgently visit the Mensa, and yet we are stil here, waisting our time looking at a bunch of old clocks." Both of them laughed and decided to secretely find their way out, without letting the lecturer notice them.


Mushroom's Story
Hans had a huge clock. He was very proud of his mighty clock. He'd invite friends over, direct them to his library, sit in a chair and point to his enormous clock. Men and women were equally astounded by his clock, and while men were envious of Hans' clock size women would stroke the side of his tall hard clock. Hans didn't mind if women touched his clock, as long as they used a tissue to wipe it afterwards; men were rougher and would beat his big clock to test its sturdiness. What other people didn't realize was that his gargantuan clock didn't actually work... when he knew people were coming to see it, he'd move the hands to two minutes forward of the moment they rang the bell, then by the time they got to the library they'd see the correct time. He would spend about one minute showing off his clock, basically flashing his guests with his huge clock so they wouldn't get a close look, and whisk them off to another room which was more hospitable. As impressed as people were with the size of his clock, the people who adored it were not aware it was functionally impotent.


Jamie Dawn's Story
Time. It haunts us, laughs at us, and binds us. No one escapes its confines. The rich cannot buy more time. It is the master. We are all its slaves.


My Story
Tick.... tick.... tick.... The colossal clock hurled its living echoes into the room. Unseen. Unheard. At the first tick of twenty past midnight the professor of mysticism began an impromptu lecture on the meaning of time, clarifying concepts the guests may have sensed, may have tapped along the edge of, but of depths eschewed for fear of losing one's orientation. Tick.... tick.... tick.... The instrument of chronology celebrated the seconds in its steady mechanical way, issuing moments that fell like specks of sand from a point infinitely above to a destination far below - the dunes of eternity. Those with vision might snatch a kernel out of the invisible, synchronized stream, and live it, before its occurrence. The professor expounded the concept of projecting one's mind minutes, days, years into one's future and returning with premonitions retrieved out of a remembrance of the gap between that new time and the past. Tick.... tick.... tick.... The person so projected would perceive only a minute discontinuity as insignificant as the momentary loss of vision when an eye is blinked. Upon return, the sudden presence of a new idea would distract from its origin in the times unborn. Tick.... tick.... tick.... The professor spoke his engrossing lecture extending into hours, if anyone present had made inventory of the ticks of that massive mechanism that is always among us, unseen and unheard. After uttering the final syllable of his thesis, the professor glanced at his listeners and vanished. Tick.... tick.... tick.... It was exactly twenty past midnight.

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