I love reading historic bases novels. The characters are coming to life and I feel like I am right there. It is sometime amazes me how their psychology and life are similar to our lives. But is that because they are written by modern writers? Or was people always the same? same loves, hates, passions?
“A divine piece that will surely have its place in these walls.”
“To whoever made this work–well done!”
He sat behind the curtains, hidden from the spectator’s view. A coward he was, a coward he was not–he wasn’t sure, and neither was his uncle because his uncle claimed that he was a scaredy-cat and a courageous lion merged into one.
Why was he even hiding? The people loved his work.
The time before I knew who I was going to be is considered historic. If only we could be privyed to such information. I would no how to maximize my full potential. Not only potentially avoid disastrous, or unfortunate life decisions, such as a crummy, low paying job, or a long term relationship that I kept beyond its expiration date, like a carton of milk in the fridge, just staring at me day after day.
Well, I have found a way. A way to replicate my youth and watch it advance beyond my current age, and predict with a close reality of the potential for my future. It’s like seeing a future me in action. Almost like a real life Choose Your Own Adventure. I can’t share this with anyone. Yet, I don’t believe I can fully fulfill the operation and process necessary for this experiment to work.
Besides, I want to test it on another first…just in case there are any unfortunate side effects or consequences that couldn’t be predicted.
He’s been sung to sleep. They keep bringing up all that he’s done, and he’s tired of that now. He’s in the books you know. By name, you’d know him well. But we’re done with that now, alright? Stop bringing it up. We’ve all learnt, let’s move on.
He’s very tired now. We’re very tired now. Stop singing.
it’s hard to find the distinction between what is truth and what is a lie. and history lays somewhere in between the two. all that we stand on today. possibly a lie.
I meant to put it down as soon as it happened. But my body could barely shake away the feeling that I was slowly to become just another statistic of poor little gay boys who couldn’t handle drugs. Who didn’t tell their mothers where they were and who would only be notified a week after the fact, once the body hid all hints of ever had enjoyed life.
Repeat what you said, I say. Repeat it. Repeat it until it becomes the truth. Feed it to others. When they vomit your words, make them stick them into other’s mouths and ears. Make the world remember what you lied.
A plead a plop a historic benjamin franklin absolutely positively marvelous when my hair drowned in his hair it was historic when my mouth drowned in her mouth it was historic when hitler killed all the jews it was historic its a word that means nothing anymore but still its historic because everything is historic in a way. everything will be historic some day
Historic. As I walk across the stage, my hair alight in the wash, I can see him standing in the wings. Out eyes meet, and for a brief moment we share a smile. There’s no one else in the world but us two, the inseparable pair. His eyes alight, and I can feel happiness pulsing through my soul like fire. Our love is so much more than that, its indomitable, its unbelievable, its historic. The type of love writers seek out, that Shakespeare made his best on. The type of love no one forgets that burns like a flame brighter than the sun. In a blink, the moment is gone and the roar of the crowd again enters my ears. We are no longer alone…If only they knew.
people places and times that changed history and altered the way things are now. What we know from then can change how we react to now which will alter the way things will be and how people will look back
“This,” said Professor Hoffman, his thick, veined fingers slapping his ancient wood cane against the faded blackboard, “is historic.”
His wrinkled face split into a grin, as he pointed to the map of the city of Rome. “Historic,” he repeated, and Madelyn watched his wispy swab of milk-white hair brush the top of the Roman coat of arms. “Ancient. Old. Expired. Whatever you want to call it.”
“So YOU say,” Madelyn scoffed in her head. She wasn’t yet dumb enough to talk back to Professor Hoffman when he was entranced in another one of his stupid lectures.
historic, historical, history. Tell me my friend, what ever will you do, to go down in the books? And what will you do to create a mark, a piece to add to the whole, What part of the intricate puzzle will be yours? We all want to be part of history. What will you do to make sure you get there? Many will do many things, for no other reason to prove a point. But what if we did the things we do, to leave a pretty piece on the chalkboard of history? What if our words were remembered, What if our art had meaning to someone other that ourselves, what if our ideas, our thoughts, ourselves, went down in history? Stayed in the books, for the next generation.
You don’t have to cure cancer, just…
Be every- wonderful, creative, amazing -thing you can be.
In this historic moment, standing in front of Mount Rushmore – the four of us, not quite so bearded like Lincoln or bespectacled like Teddy, but still young and barrel-chested with Dorito chip stains on our fingers – have decided to take the very best picture of each of us looking like we are picking the giant stone president heads’ noses. It shall be glorious!
When referring to something as historic we refer to something that happens in the past. Sometimes these are good things but mostly they’re bad. Everyone knows 9/11 but how many remember or know about the Great Pizza baking in Germany that happened in the same year? They say the pepperoni slices were the size of sewer lids and actually made you feel like a pig.
It was in the historic section of town that she first developed a love for the past. As she wandered from building to building, she was impressed with the architecture and the ghostlike feelings from the past. She wanted to know more, and would make it a point to start gathering information. Hooray!
My relationship with you has been historic, put in the memory banks of this tarter filled brain. I will flip the page to the right here and now and hope to forget my rage and your war. The shrapnel may leave scars but wounds they heal and my heart moves on.
my relationship with you has been historic, put in the memory banks of this tarter filled brain. I will flipp the page to the right here and now and hope to forget my rage.
The town was crumbling beneath my brand new Converse. I rolled my eyes again, probably the tenth time I’d done so that hour, and scoffed at my parents, “Why do we have to spend a weekend in this godforsaken hellhole?”
They calmly replied, as they had the four earlier times I’d asked, “This town is a historic landmark from the future. Just wait, we’re almost there.”
Another few blocks, and we arrived at the one thing not buried in a pile of rubble; in fact it was rather new, and shiny. Dusting what little dust was on it off, I read the top name as I had so many times before without realizing it. My name.
In the fading light, the bricks and mortar caught the sunset. It was a rich gold and rust red. I could feel the history in these buildings, they emanated it. They glowed.
they called it ancient history, but it was really more like mythology. they spoke of gods and battles, wars of a holy kind. they spoke of the savage, and the ever-reigning kings and queens, benevolent and good. they spoke of divine protection, of a lover’s sweet embrace – as their small, insolent world descended into chaos.
It was an historic day for the new orleans saints. A rookie quarterback by the name of McDaniel has taken them all the way. Where did he come from, this superstar-in-the-making? A relative nobody, he was drafted in the 7th round by a team that was struggling to make the playoffs. Fast-forward 6 months, 16 regular season games and 4 post-season games, and he’s the starting quarterback in the most dynamic New Orleans saints team perhaps to have ever graced the Mercedes-Benz Super Dome.
Now, facing the the greatest challenge of his still-young career, will he succumb to the pressure, or will he triumph and upset the incumbent Miami Dolphins? Stay tuned, and don’t miss the exciting conclusion of this already tumultuous, injury riddled 2035 football season. Superbowl XXXIIIVVIV kicks off, after this commercial break, because fuckit, who can read Roman numerals anyway?
Historic is something that’s history. My great great great great great great great grandpa is historic and so is my great great great great great great grandma. Albert Einstein is a famous historic person and so is Isaac Newton. Do you know what they have in common? Yep there’s 2 the are: they’re historic and they’re something to do with gravity. Isaac found out about gravity and Albert studied more into gravity finding more laws, which allowed us to go into space. I don’t know what your thinking right now but I remembered something: first people on the moon. They’re also historic and famous and they were on the space ship called Apollo 11. Their names were: Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. Although, Neil got a bigger name because he was the first ever. Sadly he died recently (2012). I know what your all thinking: Why is 2012 recent to 2013? Well I’ll tell you: whenever a famous person dies, and if it’s between 1-10 years, people call it recent.
Also as soon as you finish reading this, this one day will also become historic.
Something historic. Paris. Rome. Old buildings. Old doors that lead to weird old places never discovers before. Maybe that’s the top secret mission he went on. It was something old and historic that no one knew about and was so out of the wy that no one could think to look for him there.
A historic time to hold a wedding. In the time of prejudice, hate, and unconditional love. Even when both parties have been devastated by premature loss and bottomless grief, this day of prosperity is enough to bring back some joy in everyone’s hearts. May they see more such days of happiness, and may the conflict cease.
The historic landmark stood in the park, once admired by many, now was collecting dust. Everyday people just walked by ignoring it. Until one day a girl stopped in from of it. She said, “What are we doing? This was built for a purpose, to honor someone, it’s time we started to do that.” The girl rounded up friends and together they cleaned the historic landmark.
My kids consider me historic, something I was built and may have been important before there time. They think I resemble an old, worn down building in need of restoration. We’ll see if they have any interest in restoring me.
The historic landmark changed everything. Everyone walks past it every day but no one seemed to notice. One day a girl stopped. She said, “Why do we have this landmark if no one pays any attention. That’s not right. It’s time to take appreciation of what it means.”
Historic.
Legendary. In the moment, crazy. What defines seconds in time. The epicness of winning a battle, fighting for a right, or accomplishing something GREAT.
“The world sucks,” Someone once said. “The world sucks, you get old, then you die, and no one will even remember your name.”
But you know what? I’m sick of doing what Someone says. Someone out there is an asshole, telling us both who we’re suppose to be and what we’re suppose to wear and where we’re allowed to go.
Fuck them! I’m done with this shit.
We’ll go out tonight and paint the world red and hear them scream with our semiautomatics and psychotic dreams of immortality. We’ll show Someone we’re worth a damn. Our names will be murmured on street corners and highlighted in textbooks for decades to come. We’ll be the worst examples of society, and we’ll show Someone we’re worth remembering.
I love reading historic bases novels. The characters are coming to life and I feel like I am right there. It is sometime amazes me how their psychology and life are similar to our lives. But is that because they are written by modern writers? Or was people always the same? same loves, hates, passions?
“A historic masterpiece.”
“A divine piece that will surely have its place in these walls.”
“To whoever made this work–well done!”
He sat behind the curtains, hidden from the spectator’s view. A coward he was, a coward he was not–he wasn’t sure, and neither was his uncle because his uncle claimed that he was a scaredy-cat and a courageous lion merged into one.
Why was he even hiding? The people loved his work.
The time before I knew who I was going to be is considered historic. If only we could be privyed to such information. I would no how to maximize my full potential. Not only potentially avoid disastrous, or unfortunate life decisions, such as a crummy, low paying job, or a long term relationship that I kept beyond its expiration date, like a carton of milk in the fridge, just staring at me day after day.
Well, I have found a way. A way to replicate my youth and watch it advance beyond my current age, and predict with a close reality of the potential for my future. It’s like seeing a future me in action. Almost like a real life Choose Your Own Adventure. I can’t share this with anyone. Yet, I don’t believe I can fully fulfill the operation and process necessary for this experiment to work.
Besides, I want to test it on another first…just in case there are any unfortunate side effects or consequences that couldn’t be predicted.
He’s been sung to sleep. They keep bringing up all that he’s done, and he’s tired of that now. He’s in the books you know. By name, you’d know him well. But we’re done with that now, alright? Stop bringing it up. We’ve all learnt, let’s move on.
He’s very tired now. We’re very tired now. Stop singing.
it’s hard to find the distinction between what is truth and what is a lie. and history lays somewhere in between the two. all that we stand on today. possibly a lie.
The historic site filled the child with wonder, awe, fear, and sadness. So much had happened there and it made her feel insignificant and useless.
backward sailing train
gently drifting
faces rock in silence
city yawns
A window in sunlight
I meant to put it down as soon as it happened. But my body could barely shake away the feeling that I was slowly to become just another statistic of poor little gay boys who couldn’t handle drugs. Who didn’t tell their mothers where they were and who would only be notified a week after the fact, once the body hid all hints of ever had enjoyed life.
Repeat what you said, I say. Repeat it. Repeat it until it becomes the truth. Feed it to others. When they vomit your words, make them stick them into other’s mouths and ears. Make the world remember what you lied.
A plead a plop a historic benjamin franklin absolutely positively marvelous when my hair drowned in his hair it was historic when my mouth drowned in her mouth it was historic when hitler killed all the jews it was historic its a word that means nothing anymore but still its historic because everything is historic in a way. everything will be historic some day
Historic. As I walk across the stage, my hair alight in the wash, I can see him standing in the wings. Out eyes meet, and for a brief moment we share a smile. There’s no one else in the world but us two, the inseparable pair. His eyes alight, and I can feel happiness pulsing through my soul like fire. Our love is so much more than that, its indomitable, its unbelievable, its historic. The type of love writers seek out, that Shakespeare made his best on. The type of love no one forgets that burns like a flame brighter than the sun. In a blink, the moment is gone and the roar of the crowd again enters my ears. We are no longer alone…If only they knew.
My old home is in the historic district of town and dates 1897. Yes, it also has spirits, but they like me here.
people places and times that changed history and altered the way things are now. What we know from then can change how we react to now which will alter the way things will be and how people will look back
“This,” said Professor Hoffman, his thick, veined fingers slapping his ancient wood cane against the faded blackboard, “is historic.”
His wrinkled face split into a grin, as he pointed to the map of the city of Rome. “Historic,” he repeated, and Madelyn watched his wispy swab of milk-white hair brush the top of the Roman coat of arms. “Ancient. Old. Expired. Whatever you want to call it.”
“So YOU say,” Madelyn scoffed in her head. She wasn’t yet dumb enough to talk back to Professor Hoffman when he was entranced in another one of his stupid lectures.
They had made history, that was for sure. No one will remember their enemies and opponents, they were the only ones who would make history.
historic, historical, history. Tell me my friend, what ever will you do, to go down in the books? And what will you do to create a mark, a piece to add to the whole, What part of the intricate puzzle will be yours? We all want to be part of history. What will you do to make sure you get there? Many will do many things, for no other reason to prove a point. But what if we did the things we do, to leave a pretty piece on the chalkboard of history? What if our words were remembered, What if our art had meaning to someone other that ourselves, what if our ideas, our thoughts, ourselves, went down in history? Stayed in the books, for the next generation.
You don’t have to cure cancer, just…
Be every- wonderful, creative, amazing -thing you can be.
Historic
is this building
fresh
are my thoughts of you
strawberry light
and oak trees
scent of textbooks and
men
missing
you
for
always
In this historic moment, standing in front of Mount Rushmore – the four of us, not quite so bearded like Lincoln or bespectacled like Teddy, but still young and barrel-chested with Dorito chip stains on our fingers – have decided to take the very best picture of each of us looking like we are picking the giant stone president heads’ noses. It shall be glorious!
When referring to something as historic we refer to something that happens in the past. Sometimes these are good things but mostly they’re bad. Everyone knows 9/11 but how many remember or know about the Great Pizza baking in Germany that happened in the same year? They say the pepperoni slices were the size of sewer lids and actually made you feel like a pig.
It was in the historic section of town that she first developed a love for the past. As she wandered from building to building, she was impressed with the architecture and the ghostlike feelings from the past. She wanted to know more, and would make it a point to start gathering information. Hooray!
My relationship with you has been historic, put in the memory banks of this tarter filled brain. I will flip the page to the right here and now and hope to forget my rage and your war. The shrapnel may leave scars but wounds they heal and my heart moves on.
my relationship with you has been historic, put in the memory banks of this tarter filled brain. I will flipp the page to the right here and now and hope to forget my rage.
The town was crumbling beneath my brand new Converse. I rolled my eyes again, probably the tenth time I’d done so that hour, and scoffed at my parents, “Why do we have to spend a weekend in this godforsaken hellhole?”
They calmly replied, as they had the four earlier times I’d asked, “This town is a historic landmark from the future. Just wait, we’re almost there.”
Another few blocks, and we arrived at the one thing not buried in a pile of rubble; in fact it was rather new, and shiny. Dusting what little dust was on it off, I read the top name as I had so many times before without realizing it. My name.
In the fading light, the bricks and mortar caught the sunset. It was a rich gold and rust red. I could feel the history in these buildings, they emanated it. They glowed.
they called it ancient history, but it was really more like mythology. they spoke of gods and battles, wars of a holy kind. they spoke of the savage, and the ever-reigning kings and queens, benevolent and good. they spoke of divine protection, of a lover’s sweet embrace – as their small, insolent world descended into chaos.
I refuse to be limited by my place in time. I refuse to be limited by place in life. I refuse to be limited by my sense of self.
Perhaps I’m too old to maintain grandiose ideals of historic adoration and respect, but here we are. There is always hope.
i hope one day my life will be historic
Bronsekar og krukker, dansende føtter over rød jord. Støvet hvirvler etter dem.
It was an historic day for the new orleans saints. A rookie quarterback by the name of McDaniel has taken them all the way. Where did he come from, this superstar-in-the-making? A relative nobody, he was drafted in the 7th round by a team that was struggling to make the playoffs. Fast-forward 6 months, 16 regular season games and 4 post-season games, and he’s the starting quarterback in the most dynamic New Orleans saints team perhaps to have ever graced the Mercedes-Benz Super Dome.
Now, facing the the greatest challenge of his still-young career, will he succumb to the pressure, or will he triumph and upset the incumbent Miami Dolphins? Stay tuned, and don’t miss the exciting conclusion of this already tumultuous, injury riddled 2035 football season. Superbowl XXXIIIVVIV kicks off, after this commercial break, because fuckit, who can read Roman numerals anyway?
Historic is something that’s history. My great great great great great great great grandpa is historic and so is my great great great great great great grandma. Albert Einstein is a famous historic person and so is Isaac Newton. Do you know what they have in common? Yep there’s 2 the are: they’re historic and they’re something to do with gravity. Isaac found out about gravity and Albert studied more into gravity finding more laws, which allowed us to go into space. I don’t know what your thinking right now but I remembered something: first people on the moon. They’re also historic and famous and they were on the space ship called Apollo 11. Their names were: Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. Although, Neil got a bigger name because he was the first ever. Sadly he died recently (2012). I know what your all thinking: Why is 2012 recent to 2013? Well I’ll tell you: whenever a famous person dies, and if it’s between 1-10 years, people call it recent.
Also as soon as you finish reading this, this one day will also become historic.
Sai
Something historic. Paris. Rome. Old buildings. Old doors that lead to weird old places never discovers before. Maybe that’s the top secret mission he went on. It was something old and historic that no one knew about and was so out of the wy that no one could think to look for him there.
A historic time to hold a wedding. In the time of prejudice, hate, and unconditional love. Even when both parties have been devastated by premature loss and bottomless grief, this day of prosperity is enough to bring back some joy in everyone’s hearts. May they see more such days of happiness, and may the conflict cease.
The historic landmark stood in the park, once admired by many, now was collecting dust. Everyday people just walked by ignoring it. Until one day a girl stopped in from of it. She said, “What are we doing? This was built for a purpose, to honor someone, it’s time we started to do that.” The girl rounded up friends and together they cleaned the historic landmark.
My kids consider me historic, something I was built and may have been important before there time. They think I resemble an old, worn down building in need of restoration. We’ll see if they have any interest in restoring me.
The historic landmark changed everything. Everyone walks past it every day but no one seemed to notice. One day a girl stopped. She said, “Why do we have this landmark if no one pays any attention. That’s not right. It’s time to take appreciation of what it means.”
Historic reminds me of things that are old….Very, very old. I have always wanted to be an historic figure.
history only remembers the victors;
you won’t remember me.
Historic.
Legendary. In the moment, crazy. What defines seconds in time. The epicness of winning a battle, fighting for a right, or accomplishing something GREAT.
“The world sucks,” Someone once said. “The world sucks, you get old, then you die, and no one will even remember your name.”
But you know what? I’m sick of doing what Someone says. Someone out there is an asshole, telling us both who we’re suppose to be and what we’re suppose to wear and where we’re allowed to go.
Fuck them! I’m done with this shit.
We’ll go out tonight and paint the world red and hear them scream with our semiautomatics and psychotic dreams of immortality. We’ll show Someone we’re worth a damn. Our names will be murmured on street corners and highlighted in textbooks for decades to come. We’ll be the worst examples of society, and we’ll show Someone we’re worth remembering.
historical is not everytime historic