Back then fans had soul. I remember the way they stood during the seventh inning stretch belting out the lyrics of “Sweet Caroline” dripping with booze, sweat and anticipation oozing from their pores, still hoping for the Triple Play that would save the day
The fans in the barn started to work again after they stopped working for several days. The fans are blowing in my face making me cool off after the long run. The fans went wild after the home run last night. I know how to make fans out of a piece of paper.
A singer has a lot of fans.The fans in the barn started to work again. The fans are blowing in my face making me cool off after the long run. The fans went wild after the home run last night.
I am a huge fan of Eminem, his rap flow gives me chills, alot of his music is about beating women but he has changed alot, and i think my mom is warming up to him :p
She waved her hand in front of her face as if that was going to stop the heat from bombarding her mercilessly. It didn’t really work. But it had a placebo effect.
They were traditionally made of feathers. For the queens hand maidens, flamingo, or perhaps parakeet. Something colorful and soft. But the queen was only fanned with peacock feathers, embroidered across the bade with silk. She perspired not in massive sweat stains but in beaded jewels across her stately forehead.
The door chime brought him to his feet. He quickly wiped his hands on his khakis and took a deep breath, meeting his first customer halfway. “Hello, Ma’am! Looking for anything in particular today?” The little old lady with the blue tinted hair nodded, “Oh yes. Where are your ceiling fans?” He gave her a charming smile, and led her to the back. “Here we go, and there’s a sale too!” She clapped her hands, took a seat, and pulled out a book.
I walked into the store. It was freezing because someone had turned all of the fans on and they were all blowing cold air and I can just feel it right now while I am writing this! I wish that all of the fans were not on. It was winter as well, so it was even more cold. I don’t even know what I was doing in a fan shop but for some reason I walked in a fan store. I have like, 10 fans at home and I think that is more than enough.
The air of the fan hits my exposed leg.
I sit up in my twin size bed, taking a minute to gather what happened the night before.
I distinctly remember the taking of neon two colored pills.
Shaking my head away from the memory I stand up and walk over to the mirror.
There I stood, hair knotted, makeup smeared, in the clothes from the night before.
I was the perfect definition of a hot mess.
So, instead of trying to get cleaned up and confess my sins in that Sunday morning, I simply go out again, for another night day of wonders.
Me and you used to dream about being famous. Cameras flashing, people cheering, and the adoring fans. We were going to be famous whether it withered our bones. We had a plan all set out wearing the shimmering gowns and fake smiles. We were going to be famous even if it made us cry. We didn’t want to we needed to be famous but fame is easier said than done.
It sucks to say, but I think I have them. I’m not trying to be prideful, I just think a lot of people look up to me. It’s weird. Sometimes I like it, but it’s scary honestly. To think I could change the world the world? … but it’s not my influence.
Fans are great things. Sometimes they’re not the best. They spin really fast and if you get too close you can hurt yourself. I am going to sleep and dream about fans now.
I love my fans! They are so loving and caring. When you have fans, that’s when you know you are very popular – and I have LOTS of fans. People envy me because of it.
the fans she brought home from her trip to japan. that is what was upsetting her. there was something not quite right about them. she went to the window and opened the case again.
I sit crouched beside the window, my hands clutching my head as I try to muffle the ear-piercing noise from outside. This isn’t the good life I was expecting. If people adore me and respect me, that’s fine; but this? This is just unbearable. Does no-one care for privacy any more?
Unable to take it, I run to my room, unsure of why I became famous in the first place.
Who is a fan of anything who is of any intelligence anyway? Because everything has it’s dark side. It’s shittiness. Every person especially has their crazy, stupid, horrible, blind spots and they’re all, I’m sorry, we are all basically selfish and terrible.
They scream and shout but do they really listen to what they sing, to what they say and preach. Are they the converted or the choir? The fans hold theirs arms up to be embraced but who will hold them? They scream and shout.
like fans. okay so fans. mulan saves china because of a fan, okay. that is to this day the most badass thing i have ever seen anyone do with a fan. even though that fan will forever be ruined, she saved china and killed the leader of the huns by hitting him with a giant firecracker that set off a bunch of other firecrackers and effectively ensured that broken bits of his flaming body, if they weren’t disintegrated, would rain down on a cheering China and Shang attempting to be smooth with Mulan.
I am a fan of baseball, and it would be nice to have a fan at the baseball games! Some fans take it too literally, and It upsets me because I would really like to enjoy the game without people getting all crazy! Its ridicilous how obsessed america is with sports. I think if we channelled all that energy into something better, we would become a better society and nation. ONE
Fans. Fangirling. I am a fangirl. Throughout my preteen and teenage years I had many obsessions; singers, actors, actresses, bands, people. I admired them. Although it seems like a waste of time, each person or band that I looked up to has made me into the person that I am today.
UNFAIR
The nightly news was a dose of relief. The murders, the stabbings, the tragic disfigurements were a nightly reminder that occasionally life could be even more unfair than it had been to her. Perhaps she was in some bizarre way, lucky.
She hated it when people asked about her life. She was sick to death of her f***d up story – the one with the father who abandoned her, her narcisstic brother who abused her, stole her millions and lied to her about having cancer. There was the Thai transexual and the dysfunctional husband, her chronic failure to produce children. A failed career. Jesus, the whole lot of it was one sorry mash up. She gulped down a full glass of shiraz and thought she might run away to the country.
Serena was the type of woman men wanted to sleep with. She had an easy sex appeal about her. It was the way she moved, unconsciously circling her hips, as if there was always a man beneath her that won her so many fans. But she wasn’t the sort of woman men would leave their wives for. In fact, they mostly left her before daybreak. She wasn’t quite young enough. Or pretty enough. Or rich enough to keep them. But as each Saturday night rolled around, ever hopeful she bounced from body to body, collecting a long string of broken hearts – all of them hers.
Summer’s hit again. Well, Spring really, but you know how the temperature starts rising and you start having to wear sunscreen, and no one really bothers with reality, only with what it feels like. When you can’t sleep without your ceiling fan spinning, that’s when Summer hits, not when the days of the year say it’s right. Hot, humid Summer with those storms that break over the course of a few days, then rumble back into hot, cloudless skies. Summer.
It is obvious that people that make their lives standing in front of other people to perform in one way or another naturally develop fans. However, that is not the only individuals that benefit from fans. Think about those people that allow their own creative outpourings to be made available to the wider public.
I like fans, they cool my skin. When I see fans at my door, I let them in. But fans get dirty full of grit, hair and fuzzy and nasty shit. So sometimes fans need some time out to be cleaned. So I don’t know how to finish this.
There were millions of fans in the room. All cheering for their favourite bands. I was mixed in with the lot of them, looking for my little brother. Where had he gone? He had escaped my watch for a second and now he had disappeared. Stupid me! How could I have done this? Why? Wait, he was onstage with the band………..
sone fans are run off of electricity and some by the natures wind. They our design to keep people closed down and to also help cars to keep Colded down to do the car won’t over heat.
Laura was surprised to see a group of fans already huddled beneath her hotel balcony. She sighed and lit a cigarette. There wasn’t much noise coming from the swarm, just the slight breeze and the light tapping of rain drizzling down on the wooden paneling of her window. To the right of Laura, by the bed, a bottle of champagne was submerged in half-melted ice, slowly growing warmer and warmer with the impending summer storm.
One must first and foremost always be a fan of themselves the biggest fan because no one can ever be you you bring your own particular truth to this world being your own fan as to your legacy
Back then fans had soul. I remember the way they stood during the seventh inning stretch belting out the lyrics of “Sweet Caroline” dripping with booze, sweat and anticipation oozing from their pores, still hoping for the Triple Play that would save the day
The fans went wild when the baseball player hit a home run.
The fans in the barn started to work again after they stopped working for several days. The fans are blowing in my face making me cool off after the long run. The fans went wild after the home run last night. I know how to make fans out of a piece of paper.
A singer has a lot of fans.The fans in the barn started to work again. The fans are blowing in my face making me cool off after the long run. The fans went wild after the home run last night.
A singer has a lot of fans.The fans in the barn started to work again.
I am a fan of God, a singer has a lot of fans, the fan in the barn quit.
A singer had people who enjoyed her songs, so they were called fans.
I am one of Gods fans.
A singer had people who enjoyed her songs, so they were called fans.
One of the fans in the milking barn shut off because it failed to work.
My best friend and I are huge fans of a band called R5. We have seen them in concert so many times and we’ve met them too!
I am a huge fan of Eminem, his rap flow gives me chills, alot of his music is about beating women but he has changed alot, and i think my mom is warming up to him :p
fans are people who support a certain musician or celebrity.
She waved her hand in front of her face as if that was going to stop the heat from bombarding her mercilessly. It didn’t really work. But it had a placebo effect.
They were traditionally made of feathers. For the queens hand maidens, flamingo, or perhaps parakeet. Something colorful and soft. But the queen was only fanned with peacock feathers, embroidered across the bade with silk. She perspired not in massive sweat stains but in beaded jewels across her stately forehead.
The door chime brought him to his feet. He quickly wiped his hands on his khakis and took a deep breath, meeting his first customer halfway. “Hello, Ma’am! Looking for anything in particular today?” The little old lady with the blue tinted hair nodded, “Oh yes. Where are your ceiling fans?” He gave her a charming smile, and led her to the back. “Here we go, and there’s a sale too!” She clapped her hands, took a seat, and pulled out a book.
I walked into the store. It was freezing because someone had turned all of the fans on and they were all blowing cold air and I can just feel it right now while I am writing this! I wish that all of the fans were not on. It was winter as well, so it was even more cold. I don’t even know what I was doing in a fan shop but for some reason I walked in a fan store. I have like, 10 fans at home and I think that is more than enough.
The air of the fan hits my exposed leg.
I sit up in my twin size bed, taking a minute to gather what happened the night before.
I distinctly remember the taking of neon two colored pills.
Shaking my head away from the memory I stand up and walk over to the mirror.
There I stood, hair knotted, makeup smeared, in the clothes from the night before.
I was the perfect definition of a hot mess.
So, instead of trying to get cleaned up and confess my sins in that Sunday morning, I simply go out again, for another night day of wonders.
Me and you used to dream about being famous. Cameras flashing, people cheering, and the adoring fans. We were going to be famous whether it withered our bones. We had a plan all set out wearing the shimmering gowns and fake smiles. We were going to be famous even if it made us cry. We didn’t want to we needed to be famous but fame is easier said than done.
It sucks to say, but I think I have them. I’m not trying to be prideful, I just think a lot of people look up to me. It’s weird. Sometimes I like it, but it’s scary honestly. To think I could change the world the world? … but it’s not my influence.
Fans are great things. Sometimes they’re not the best. They spin really fast and if you get too close you can hurt yourself. I am going to sleep and dream about fans now.
I love my fans! They are so loving and caring. When you have fans, that’s when you know you are very popular – and I have LOTS of fans. People envy me because of it.
the fans she brought home from her trip to japan. that is what was upsetting her. there was something not quite right about them. she went to the window and opened the case again.
I sit crouched beside the window, my hands clutching my head as I try to muffle the ear-piercing noise from outside. This isn’t the good life I was expecting. If people adore me and respect me, that’s fine; but this? This is just unbearable. Does no-one care for privacy any more?
Unable to take it, I run to my room, unsure of why I became famous in the first place.
Who is a fan of anything who is of any intelligence anyway? Because everything has it’s dark side. It’s shittiness. Every person especially has their crazy, stupid, horrible, blind spots and they’re all, I’m sorry, we are all basically selfish and terrible.
They scream and shout but do they really listen to what they sing, to what they say and preach. Are they the converted or the choir? The fans hold theirs arms up to be embraced but who will hold them? They scream and shout.
like fans. okay so fans. mulan saves china because of a fan, okay. that is to this day the most badass thing i have ever seen anyone do with a fan. even though that fan will forever be ruined, she saved china and killed the leader of the huns by hitting him with a giant firecracker that set off a bunch of other firecrackers and effectively ensured that broken bits of his flaming body, if they weren’t disintegrated, would rain down on a cheering China and Shang attempting to be smooth with Mulan.
Paper fans. Celebrity fans. Ceiling fans. I am a fan of your fans. Fanners fan the fans. Everyone is fantastic.
I am a fan of baseball, and it would be nice to have a fan at the baseball games! Some fans take it too literally, and It upsets me because I would really like to enjoy the game without people getting all crazy! Its ridicilous how obsessed america is with sports. I think if we channelled all that energy into something better, we would become a better society and nation. ONE
Fans. Fangirling. I am a fangirl. Throughout my preteen and teenage years I had many obsessions; singers, actors, actresses, bands, people. I admired them. Although it seems like a waste of time, each person or band that I looked up to has made me into the person that I am today.
UNFAIR
The nightly news was a dose of relief. The murders, the stabbings, the tragic disfigurements were a nightly reminder that occasionally life could be even more unfair than it had been to her. Perhaps she was in some bizarre way, lucky.
She hated it when people asked about her life. She was sick to death of her f***d up story – the one with the father who abandoned her, her narcisstic brother who abused her, stole her millions and lied to her about having cancer. There was the Thai transexual and the dysfunctional husband, her chronic failure to produce children. A failed career. Jesus, the whole lot of it was one sorry mash up. She gulped down a full glass of shiraz and thought she might run away to the country.
Serena was the type of woman men wanted to sleep with. She had an easy sex appeal about her. It was the way she moved, unconsciously circling her hips, as if there was always a man beneath her that won her so many fans. But she wasn’t the sort of woman men would leave their wives for. In fact, they mostly left her before daybreak. She wasn’t quite young enough. Or pretty enough. Or rich enough to keep them. But as each Saturday night rolled around, ever hopeful she bounced from body to body, collecting a long string of broken hearts – all of them hers.
As the fans were screaming his name, Terry swung the bat and missed for a second time.
Fans are the backbone of any team. If the fans show up no matter what happens all is well they will give love and support, I wish everyone had a fan.
Summer’s hit again. Well, Spring really, but you know how the temperature starts rising and you start having to wear sunscreen, and no one really bothers with reality, only with what it feels like. When you can’t sleep without your ceiling fan spinning, that’s when Summer hits, not when the days of the year say it’s right. Hot, humid Summer with those storms that break over the course of a few days, then rumble back into hot, cloudless skies. Summer.
It is obvious that people that make their lives standing in front of other people to perform in one way or another naturally develop fans. However, that is not the only individuals that benefit from fans. Think about those people that allow their own creative outpourings to be made available to the wider public.
I like fans, they cool my skin. When I see fans at my door, I let them in. But fans get dirty full of grit, hair and fuzzy and nasty shit. So sometimes fans need some time out to be cleaned. So I don’t know how to finish this.
There were millions of fans in the room. All cheering for their favourite bands. I was mixed in with the lot of them, looking for my little brother. Where had he gone? He had escaped my watch for a second and now he had disappeared. Stupid me! How could I have done this? Why? Wait, he was onstage with the band………..
sone fans are run off of electricity and some by the natures wind. They our design to keep people closed down and to also help cars to keep Colded down to do the car won’t over heat.
Laura was surprised to see a group of fans already huddled beneath her hotel balcony. She sighed and lit a cigarette. There wasn’t much noise coming from the swarm, just the slight breeze and the light tapping of rain drizzling down on the wooden paneling of her window. To the right of Laura, by the bed, a bottle of champagne was submerged in half-melted ice, slowly growing warmer and warmer with the impending summer storm.
One must first and foremost always be a fan of themselves the biggest fan because no one can ever be you you bring your own particular truth to this world being your own fan as to your legacy
Cherry blossoms cover a shy smile, eyes laugh above the beautiful paper.