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Random Messages 9

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Akromatic

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FIRST POST IN 3 HOURS. WOOT.
G'morning. The servers were down for everyone last night, right?

EDIT: Am I the only one here?
I feel so alone...
 

Zexy

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FIRST POST IN 3 HOURS. WOOT.
G'morning. The servers were down for everyone last night, right?

EDIT: Am I the only one here?
I feel so alone...

Ι am here too, but with a 3 hours dead thread, there is not much I can do.
 

Akromatic

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Ι am here too, but with a 3 hours dead thread, there is not much I can do.
Well, the servers went down last night, and everyone left. Sky and HeavenBlade apparently had a short conversation after the shutdown.

EDIT: Hey, Insert's still alive.
 
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Figgles

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It was down all morning for me.

The only thing I do somewhat frequently is the *angrily action* thing. Most of my posts have a large amount of variety. ^_^

*angrily angers

Hm... I've been stealing Charles' "Ugh" lately. I don't think I do anything else.

In all fairness, I'm one of the only regular posters there.

*starts to raise hand* *realises how little he posts there* *puts hand down again*

BW2 are so two years ago!

*got it this January* *still hasn't finished the post-game*

Zima said:
“Because there is something in the touch of flesh with flesh which abrogates, cuts sharp and straight across the devious intricate channels of decorous ordering, which enemies as well as lovers know because it makes them both:---touch and touch of that which is the citadel of the central I-Am's private own: not spirit, soul; the liquorish and ungirdled mind is anyone's to take in any any darkened hallway of this earthly tenement. But let flesh touch with flesh, and watch the fall of all the eggshell shibboleth of caste and color too.
”
“Read it if you like or don't read it if you like. Because you make so little impression, you see. You get born and you try this and you don't know why only you keep on trying it and you are born at the same time with a lot of other people, all mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with string only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don't know why either except that the strings are all in one another's way like five or six people all trying to make a rug on the same loom only each one wants to weave his own pattern into the rug; and it can't matter, you know that, or the Ones that set up the loom would have arranged things a little better, and yet it must matter because you keep on trying and then all of a sudden it's all over and all you have left is a block of stone with scratches on it provided there was someone to remember to have the marble scratched and set up or had time to, and it rains on it and then sun shines on it and after a while they don't even remember the name and what the scratches were trying to tell, and it doesn't matter. And so maybe if you could go to someone, the stranger the better, and give them something-a scrap of paper-something, anything, it not to mean anything in itself and them not even to read it or keep it, not even bother to throw it away or destroy it, at least it would be something just because it would have happened, be remembered even if only from passing from one hand to another, one mind to another, and it would be at least a scratch, something, something that might make a mark on something that was once for the reason that it can die someday, while the block of stone can't be is because it never can become was because it can't ever die or perish...”

That is HEAVY STUFF. What the hell is all that babbling for?

Nope
Done with the Up and Down game
2ninja4me
3hopeless5me

COWARDS! You either win, or die trying!
 

Akromatic

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That is HEAVY STUFF. What the hell is all that babbling for?

But... it made sense to me. :(
“Read it if you like or don't read it if you like. Because you make so little impression, you see. You get born and you try this and you don't know why only you keep on trying it and you are born at the same time with a lot of other people, all mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with string only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don't know why either except that the strings are all in one another's way like five or six people all trying to make a rug on the same loom only each one wants to weave his own pattern into the rug; and it can't matter, you know that, or the Ones that set up the loom would have arranged things a little better,"
The first part meant that even though you're "special", you were born along with thousands of others, many at the same time as you, and you are insignificant, as the "strings" that control you control everyone else, too. And people have different opinions of different things, but you can't do all of them at once most of the time without ending up with a mess, like trying to make a loom when several others have different ideas and it ends up being a pile of tangled wool. And you know that it's meant to be that way, or else maybe things would've been a bit different and you would be able to put everyone's ideas into one space.

and yet it must matter because you keep on trying and then all of a sudden it's all over and all you have left is a block of stone with scratches on it provided there was someone to remember to have the marble scratched and set up or had time to, and it rains on it and then sun shines on it and after a while they don't even remember the name and what the scratches were trying to tell, and it doesn't matter.
Meaning time heals all wounds, but it also may create some, as the marks on earth that people have left, like inventions and careers and whatnot, will eventually disappear and not matter anymore.

And so maybe if you could go to someone, the stranger the better, and give them something-a scrap of paper-something, anything, it not to mean anything in itself and them not even to read it or keep it, not even bother to throw it away or destroy it, at least it would be something just because it would have happened, be remembered even if only from passing from one hand to another, one mind to another, and it would be at least a scratch, something, something that might make a mark on something that was once for the reason that it can die someday, while the block of stone can't be is because it never can become was because it can't ever die or perish...”
And so you can pass the memory of what you did on and on, so this person can pass the memory to someone else from one hand to another, one mind to another, and at least you can go knowing that you've left a "scratch" on humanity that will never die or perish.

I've caught a deadly disease called Zimanitus. It forces you to post random blocks of words from people online.
 

Zexy

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*posts something*

*is bored to go search imgur for the thread meme*
 

Zima

dunno y u gotta pain 2nyt
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Good morning... or afternoon.

It snowed a little bit. :3
 

Zexy

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Good morning... or afternoon.

It snowed a little bit. :3

Good afternoon... or morning, Zima!

Woah, last time it snowed here was 6 years ago or even more, I think!
 

Zima

dunno y u gotta pain 2nyt
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Good morning... or afternoon.

It snowed a little bit. :3
G'day, Ziмa.

WHY ISN'T IT SNOWING I LIVE IN ONTARIO CANADA ASFWETPFVACCUM
Oh my God. Why did you take the time out of your day to put that cool-looking, but annoying Cyrillic M on there?

Beats me. It's supposed to snow pretty much all day, so I'm happy.
 

Figgles

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For your own mental safety, please avoid using this phrase when Markos is online :))

Don't use slang basically. I'll just throw a bunch of it at ya in a satirical fashion.

I ain't talking about chicken and gravy, biatch!
 
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