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THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016).
By Xyrea on Wednesday, November 28, 2001 - 12:06 pm:

    A mountain site, gorgeous weather, and Ben Affleck visited me last night. It would be so nice if you could just save those kind of dreams for when you're having a really shitty week.

By semillama on Wednesday, November 28, 2001 - 12:52 pm:

    It's been ages since I've had a dream I wish I
    didn't have to wake up from, but I guess in a
    way that's actually a good thing.

By Recollections of the misery of childhood on Wednesday, November 28, 2001 - 02:47 pm:

    When I was a little girl, in Austria, my father had a shop where he made keys and such. I would have lunch with him everyday. There lived in our town a little girl with cornflower blue eyes, and golden hair, tied up in elaborately braided pigtails. She too would visit her papa, a foreman at the local can factory, and bring him his lunch in a gingham cloth covered basket. Even on the sunniest of days, the world would somehow seem brighter when she would cheerfully make her way through town to deliver this daily repast to her Papa, who was well known in our town as a hard worker, and dedicated family man. One day, when the sun was shining brightly, and the scent of fresh baked bread was in the air, I heard the most terrible sound; The screeching of air breaks, a loud thumping crash, and the keening cries of the local women who had been to market up the hill. My papa grabbed my hand, and together we looked from his shop window to the street outside. To my horror, There on the sun dappled street,I saw little white bockwurst sausages rolling down the hill; the shrieks and cries of the village women ringing in my ears. When I saw those sad, plump little sausages rolling toward us, I knew that the unpeakable had happened, and that I would never see that poor little girl again. To this day, I cannot bring myself to even contemplate eating sausages.

By semillama on Wednesday, November 28, 2001 - 10:38 pm:

    To this day, I know that you copied that from
    somewhere, so pllease give credit
    where credit is due.

By Christophers contemplation on the miseries of childhood and transgender writing on Wednesday, November 28, 2001 - 11:52 pm:

    Actually, the only thing I borrowed was my "name". It derives from an Edwardy gorey poem called The Object Lesson. the verse that this comes from goes
    "A bat, or perhaps an umbrella, disengaged itself from some shrubbery, causing those on the shore to recollect the miseries of childhood". The rest of it, I simply made up because I felt like writing something morose. I've been coming here for a long time, and when the mood hits me, I just write something. I've never plagiarized in my life. I'm sorry you didn't like my story. I thought it was rather funny, in a depressing sort of way. Ask Nate who I am. Agatha knows me as well.
    Regards,
    Christopher

By Ophelia on Thursday, November 29, 2001 - 01:12 am:

    Hi Christopher,

    I enjoyed your story. Thats just the kind of mood i'm in right now. Thank you.

By agatha on Thursday, November 29, 2001 - 02:32 am:

    i liked the story too, i think it was a compliment that it was thought to be sniped. i actually got a little weepy when the sausages rolled on the street.

    maybe you should take advantage of your unemployment, and write a novel.

    so, where the hell you been, anyhow?

By semillama on Thursday, November 29, 2001 - 12:47 pm:

    That was a compliment. Plus, I was drunk. It seems that I add extra "l"s when I post toasted.

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