Og goes on and on...

[Virtual_Burlesque]

Phenomenal writing, Ms Lou!



Now stop it!

Your sanity is at stake



Mine also.

 

[Guest]

Phenomenal writing, Ms Lou!



Now stop it!

Your sanity is at stake



Mine also.

Hahaha!

Thanks! However, I wouldn't say phenomenal. Crap is probably closer to the mark.

Lou

 

[oggbashan]

Thank you Lou.

I knew you had it in you. Doesn't it feel much better now it's out?

You still have a LONG way to go to beat my longest, but please don't try because it might lead to permanent damage.

I like lardy cake but not on my head.

love from Og



PS: Up the Arsenal (ladies)

 

[bg23]

Awe inspiring.

Will now go and contemplate futility of own writing.

 

[Guest]

Thank you Lou.

I knew you had it in you. Doesn't it feel much better now it's out?

You still have a LONG way to go to beat my longest, but please don't try because it might lead to permanent damage.

I like lardy cake but not on my head.

love from Og



PS: Up the Arsenal (ladies)

Thank YOU for the inspiration.

Complete madness, but fun!

Lou

P.S. Indeed!

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Lou-

You're even worse than I thought.

(That's a good thing )

 

[cheerful_deviant]

Lou-

You're even worse than I thought.

(That's a good thing )

You're ALL worse than I thought! LOL

But it is definitly a good thing!

 

[cloudy]

You're ALL worse than I thought! LOL

But it is definitly a good thing!

Did you ever think otherwise?

 

[Guest]

Lou-

You're even worse than I thought.

(That's a good thing )

Ha!

Lou

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Ok, I need to share this. On the surface, it may not seem like much, but I wasn't actively trying to write a 700 word sentence. I was simply working on a story of mine.

My paragraphs are usually small and to the point, as you'll find out if you have read my one story posted or if you ask Colly, whose stories I have been editing, recently. I believe half the time she spends with the stories after they go through my hands is pasting paragraphs together again.

Anyway, giving that background, I was a bit surprised to find out two sucessive paragraphs - in which there are NO TANGENTS whatsoever - with the following readability results:


Words: 43
Sentences: 1

Passive Sentences: 100%
Flesch Reading Ease: 0.0
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 12


Words: 66
Sentences: 1

Passive Sentences: 0%
Flesch Reading Ease: 0.0
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 12


The entire section in which these two paragraphs are inserted (which is the intro to the story):


Words: 302
Paragraphs: 6
Sentences: 11


Passive Sentences: 9%
Flesch Reading Ease: 34.2
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 12


Again, I know it isn't much, but it's not an exercise, it's going to be at the start of my story.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

Hi Lauren.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Hi Lauren.

You don't even bother reading my posts anymore, do you?

 

[ABSTRUSE]

You don't even bother reading my posts anymore, do you?

Are you breaking up with me?

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Are you breaking up with me?

No.

 

[CharleyH]

You don't even bother reading my posts anymore, do you?

Jesus, you get me all wet and waiting, and for what? I think you forgot something

 

[ABSTRUSE]

No.

Whew!

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Jesus, you get me all wet and waiting, and for what? I think you forgot something

What, you wanted to actually read them?

Here they are:

"The bottom line is, working for such an extended period with experimental, highly concentrated pheromone cocktails and illegal, highly unstable manipulations of methoxy-class psychedelics using the company's laboratories in secrecy would always be expected to have some sort of effect on anyone's psyche.

"On anyone's brilliant, socially inept, sex-deprived, and completely obsessed psyche, a psyche on the verge of isolating the active principles that would justify over seven years of intense research, after which it would be only a matter of time until, by means of a calculated application of the perfume-like elixir, all women fell desperately in love with him the second the fragrance reached their delicate nostrils."

 

[CharleyH]

What, you wanted to actually read them?

Here they are:

Between the words of Og's anima (not enima) and animus, a day in the life of Diana Riggs and your intellectual potion, I am officially wet, and needing to leave now.

For Og:http://www.planetsmilies.com/smilies/love/love62.gif

For Lou:http://www.planetsmilies.com/smilies/evilgrin/evilgrin36.gif

For you:http://www.planetsmilies.com/smilies/love/love71.gif

 

[Lucifer_Carroll]

Life, that unique condition of non-death and swirling time and non-existence on a cosmically large point of view, that being who sits next to death, twirling his black cloak around her little finger like so much unraveling black ribbon and adornment, that wench that all thank while fearing the other, that eternal mother that bore nothing though all are from and are her, that completion of all sentience and thought that no being that can die can help but be a part of, that thing from which no man escapes nor tries to escape except for this one time, this singular moment on the great space-time continuum, this point of reference that means as little to time or life as any other point and yet still holds importance in their immortal throes and worries, glares down at the swirling expanse below her, the eternity of the everything, the omnitopia, the cosmic everything that Zen Buddhists futilely try to tap into in hopes that they are something bigger than the tiny little man on a mountain that they are, the great vastness of space, time, the universe, and the edges of the universe which contains such nightmares as man and immortal are not to know, and spots the aberration, the flaw, the mortal who dared not praise her, the tiny eddy struggling against the flotsam of time and experience to dry on the shores of not-life, of anti-life, of grim determination and anarchistic fight against that which can not be fought against, except by the strongest and most determined of non-mortals and doomed denizens of the multiverse’s diverse species and cultures and still only he had seemed to succeed against her, the person staring back at her with eyes filled with the wild-eyed fierce animalistic raw hate of those not forsaken but rather not forsaken enough for their taste, the man who felt himself not her equal, but rather her better, her victor, her master, her god, her powerful adversary, her nemesis, her black-clad anti-her from whom even death pops a cigar and says “I’m not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole nor the scythe that I haven’t used as much now that my arthritis is getting worse and the people don’t believe in me as much opting for a desperate psychology laden immortality that I snap with my elastic shorts of doom,” and yet still he dared think of himself at this lofty egotistical mad level in some grim determination to create an apocalyptic explosion of raw energy and hate and antagonism and pain and puppies, the sheer audacity of the motion bristling her last nerves like the strumming of an old weathered oak guitar in those unique Canadian winds that both roll and chill and play the cacophony of chaos to such a majestic skill and power that grand maestros at the great concert halls cannot help but well up with heartbreak and swear to be better people if they could only learn how to extract music like that and the nerves themselves drawn as taught as the powerful bow of Odysseus that no one ever reads about because they’re too busy masturbating to the scene with Circe even though the bestiality overtones should be enough to get even the most hardcore pervert to drop his stick and swear to stop inserting their mad deranged lust into every piece of literature they get their hands on and move on to the crappy Harlequin romances like they’re supposed to, damned deranged sexual deviants and along these particular nerves, the soft patience of life hidden deep in the mountains and streams and comets and gazelles and humans and bacteria and Venusians and galaxies and black holes and that strange dark matter that scientists swear they’ll figure out one of these days if only someone would give a damn about their branch of science who wasn’t eternally crippled in a wheelchair and the tiny spores stuck in the lava under the dormant lost volcanoes of the south pole and Cthulu began to unravel and strain against the raw antagonism striving to unleash a terrible and unfathomable rage from which none would nor could escape and with a small pitiful noise snapped purely and utterly and for that anti-life there came no mercy nor aid nor love but rather pure cutting raw life.

I needed something to cleanse my palet from the raw antagonism floating around our happy little horny forum so, here's my entry into the "Let us do a huge Hemmingway and drop a meandering sentence on unsuspecting people".

722 words and yes I could make it longer if I wanted to.