Ive got a game

Half-formed posts, inchoate philosophies, and the germs of deep thought.

Ive got a game

Postby Destiny » Mon Nov 12, 2018 2:24 am

At each turn, a player takes a quote from someone elses post somewhere on the forum with the link for the page.

So I start with

Hello all

and then it should form a kind of story or dialogue.

Im sorry if this is boring.
That's the thing about real. It doesn't change and it doesn't have to change.
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Re: Ive got a game

Postby Destiny » Tue Nov 13, 2018 9:16 pm

:techie-hourglass: :oops:
That's the thing about real. It doesn't change and it doesn't have to change.
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Re: Ive got a game

Postby Destiny » Tue May 12, 2020 5:09 pm

:x
That's the thing about real. It doesn't change and it doesn't have to change.
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Re: Ive got a game

Postby Meno_ » Tue May 12, 2020 8:24 pm

Destiny wrote:At each turn, a player takes a quote from someone elses post somewhere on the forum with the link for the page.

So I start with

Hello all

and then it should form a kind of story or dialogue.

Im sorry if this is boring.


Don't be sorry, be so if it doesen't go anywhere. But who knows, that may signal the opposite reaction You would expect!
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Re: Ive got a game

Postby Meno_ » Tue May 12, 2020 8:31 pm

According to Wiki,



"The Paradiso is consequently more theological in nature than the Inferno and the Purgatorio. However, Dante admits that the vision of heaven he receives is merely the one his human eyes permit him to see, and thus the vision of heaven found in the Cantos is Dante's personal vision."

So how to proceed? Build allegory on allegory, or fine tune into metaphor, growing out of literally , as though some ascent into a childhood of the future could ascend from the hellish nature of a medieval darkness permiated with the black plague and the age of dark unreason."

{Does the Child caught between heretical witchcraft of vampiric monsters and some visions inherent in the future's luminous promise?

Are we really redeemed in the sense of the waning of the golden glow of the Greco-Roman metaphors, and will that sufficiently equip us to bridge this middle aged ravaged countryside, for that which a very early poem found a voice? Roland. The Romance of the Rose.

Should have we stopped there?
Could have we?


Who would have thought that ever new naturally evolved series of progressions and regressions would inflate then dampen the power that fuels the modern will, hereby observing this romantic revival, then stifle that , and reduce it into subservience and humility imposed from without.}


{ } indicates my own comments
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Re: Ive got a game

Postby Meno_ » Wed May 13, 2020 12:25 am

I hear laughter coming from the neighbor from Siria. He knows the one right across, he is from Persia.

The Persian lives by defiance , the law of Sharia.

The Persian's son killed Butterlies daughter. It was Sharian Law, she is assured, she screams with pain and her tears form rivulets to exasperated her hidden slanted eyes.


Can't be. This is America.

It needs comic relief now more then ever in this new purgetorio, into which the silence smothered the voices of the drowned. It's a lithograph like Dore did later.

Can the ages be set in such a parallel where child and age form a friendship where if they were separated, one could pull the other down?

She feared he may drown as they merged, as Hesse portrayed Damion and his mother, prepossessing with a sense of eternity .

No one can separate them, together they were invincible, a law unto themselves.

And then the child. He can only go on with him not as the savior he was to become to serve only to save his own family, but mankind in his little mind not yet occuring.

The Arabs were contentious and proud.
Death meant nothing to them compared with their own self assessment.

They used the boy like a pawn in a chess game, .

And Asa whipped while her husband grinded his teeth

And the little boy, in him said, he is gentle and kind , some higher power....

Ascension into a viral plateau, or a new coming fall into anarchy and hopeless strife.

No, only that, which have preferred in layers of guild, patina and velvet, ageless friends and darkness exposed by open windows terraced by the astounding take that breath will oblige. The future, tomorrow, only if:

This loss be bridled and set to move.
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