After buying his normal pack of cigs at Speedway, Billy noticed the markings that he placed on a five dollar bill that he received for the ten he used.
“Cool.”
Later, he placed the five in his Nephew, Alexander’s, birthday card which he spent on candy. Two years later, guess what Billy found in a very primitive part of New Mexico.
I wonder if primitive humans had emotions like ours? Did they get as distressed? Distraught? Did they get as happy? Excited? Did they form friendships? Bonds? Did they love the way we do? Both romantic and non? Did they plan? Anticipate? Did they wonder about death and worry about loss? How did they feel? Was it similar to how we feel today? Was it similar to how some of us feel today? Was it more like deviants? The mentally ill? More like well adjusted people? Like children? Like thugs? Like nuns? Did they have deviants, mentally ill, and well adjusted primitives? How were their emotions?
The thoughts floating in my mind are often seen as primitive, mainly by people like me. Mainly like me. But they’re profound at worst, terrible at best. What they are, are visceral realities. Things which can cut and tear and gnash and stew and sweep and kill and hope and dream. These thoughts are what make me me. They are what make me primal. Primitive, yes. But human.
People aren’t as advanced as they would like to believe they are. In fact, they’re quite primitive. Everything anyone ever does is done to fufill a basic need, whether that need is physical, emotional, or mental. Carnal desires, hunger, loneliness, people want to sate these things and they need to create more and more things that will sufficiently fill them with satisfactory feelings. It doesn’t work though.
We take life for granted these days. In the primitive era, you couldn’t even own a house. Heck, houses were nonexistent. You had to live just like every other animal in the world. We weren’t even at the top of the food chain!
David drew comics for a living; a syndicated comic about the Civil War called, “The Silly South,” which was not the most popular. What David had in mind was a cross between Garfield, Beetle Bailey, and Dilbert, though David did not want to glorify war, or make it seem fun, like Beetle Bailey did. David just wanted to show, through humor, how exhausting certain things could be. Like cognitive dissonance, or tentative race relations. Plus, everybody everywhere was tiring of family circus — especially in today’s age of Prozac addled dysfunction, where father’s fucked the mothers of their children’s friends, and mother’s drank vino and were fucked by the fathers of their children’s friends, and the children sometimes watched through the windows where one child would turn to the other and say, “My Dad is giving it to your Mom good,” and the child whose mom was “getting it” would chase the child whose father was “giving it” and the trail they made as they chased each other would be represented by a dotted line ducking over bushes and under fences where it would finally end in an adolescent’s beating and the end of an already precarious friendship. This is what family circus should have been depicting, and it wasn’t, which is probably why it had waned so much in popularity. No, David’s comic might have been arcane, outdated, and full of racist jokes; but at least it wasn’t Family Circus, that tired, tired punchline.
The age, it’s all gone. The data have never been heard before and its the age of primitive instincts. The savages are living as kings and they never had ruled liked this before. A land of the fit and survival of it are very much certain.
God, God, only God, always God. He was first. He created all of the humans that say they are first. First to realize something or come up with a “genius” idea. He rules over all of creation beause, well, it’s His. He is the definition of primitive.
“Primitive”. The word flashed for a second in his head in midair as he floated, frozen in time, over what he had strived for. The second before, he had acted uncouth – his lust, his angst all exploded into a sudden leap at the sight of what appeared to be dream made reality. Years of perseverance, of small talk, of pains and words unspoken, confessions that died on his lips. He has achieved the affection of the one he wanted most.
But as he acted, as he flew, the word flashed and everything stopped. A second later, it would be forgotten amongst the writhes of his passion – yet, had he taken a moment to consider it, to mark it to memory, he would have realized that, in some way, he was trying to save himself. To avoid becoming enslaved to desire, to remain in innocence.
It was elementary, really. An entirely primitive thing of nature, to want to be with someone. It was an easy, human concept — that part smarted a bit, he’d have to admit — but it was normal.
He didn’t want to be alone, but he was. It really wasn’t complicated, and yet he couldn’t seem to shake it away.
My primitive attempts at sophistication are so amusing,
it’s like a caveman trying to pass himself off as James Bond at the Ritz when everyone knows better- He wouldn’t be caught dead in a leisure suit…
In moments, they were reduced to primitive grappling and grunting and moaning as their bodies became entangled under the window sill. As the personnel in their vehicles puttered about in the quad, Jensen and the Ninja Babe were making time in the pale light of the afternoon sunshine on the floor of the abandoned complex.
Some people’s ideals about women are so archaic. What if I don’t want to cook? I would really like to have a man cook for me! I know the way to my heart is for sure a good meal! And good books, but that’s beside the point.
The primitive mind lay inside us all. Don’t be fooled into thinking that you are beyond primitive acts. Prime is the beginning, prime is the roots, and the beast lay in us all!
The man lumbered slowly across the land. He knew that living in a cave was primitive behavior, but on this island, he had to do all that he could to survive. He knew he might not…
The girl stared at the primitive object before her. Wooden and long, like some kind of weapon from early mankind. She’d never seen such a large club in her life. The only thing more compelling was the blood splattered over the handle.
Seeing your snot filled face only reassured me I’d made the right decision. In the six years we’ve been together, I had never seen you cry. But now that you feel I’ll never be yours again, you decide to pull this trump card. I wonder if the tears are even real or just another way to manipulate my emotions. The last trump card in your filthy sleeve.
How people were before us. Living in the wild, amongst the animals. No technology. Barely even fire. How simple, and yet so complicated life was for those people. How little we know about their personalities from their bones. They were people, with feelings, now only dust.
Theoretically, it seems as though I’ve “evolved” into a black sheep of sorts by means of a recently divulging ingroups bias (in a non-arbitrary context.) How primitive. There’s so much more to me you’re choosing to cover with judgement and self-made standards.
Sometimes I wish I could be primitive. I wish to live simply, without clutter, which I feel would eliminate so many of the stresses of day to day life. Oh to live with minimal things but have all that I need.
Your words leak onto the floor and stay there, a thick puddle to wade through. They are heavy and short and simple. I don’t want to pick them up. I don’t have to.
These things that they do, I can’t understand them. They eat with their fingers, they take food from each others’ plates. I don’t think they know what napkins are for. I just do my best to eat, to have enough peace to digest, but it’s difficult, living with such primitives. Children aren’t what I thought they’d be.
The way the fight over land that should be shared equally. The way they promote their deity, their invisible and perhaps non-existent ‘supreme being’ as being ‘the one and only true Lord our God’. The way they cut down anyone who dares ask the important questions: “How do you know?” “What if I don’t believe?” “Why should I believe?” Primitive. Truly primitive.
The most primitive form of technology in 2300 was the cellphone. I was amazed that people even still used it. We had grown accustomed to our cyberglasses, monocles, headgear, and earpieces. We drove cars and talked with them on a daily basis. But I saw a man with a cellphone, chatting to a friend. It was surreal.
It’s the oldest, most basic of instincts. Something we crave, something we loathe, something we feel is as necessary as air but is actually nowhere near that vital. Yet still, we all strive to feel it, at least once.
The primitive awoke. Reason were burnt away by a raging flood of raw emotion and instinct. His muscles shook and twitched, blood rushing like fire through his veins. Darkness obscured his vision.
the primitive stages of ones youth can be painstakingly long
the vegetables, chores and such.
but when one looks back on ones childhood, from their current standing point, they will be thankful for the blistered hide and tears shed over imperfections.
Primitive is as were gorrillas or as people who still carve tools out of wood instead of making them out of metal. There used to be creatures such as mytoplancton or cave men.
After buying his normal pack of cigs at Speedway, Billy noticed the markings that he placed on a five dollar bill that he received for the ten he used.
“Cool.”
Later, he placed the five in his Nephew, Alexander’s, birthday card which he spent on candy. Two years later, guess what Billy found in a very primitive part of New Mexico.
fiftyfourfiction.com
very short stories…54 words or less
primitive
brain.
emotions
I wonder if primitive humans had emotions like ours? Did they get as distressed? Distraught? Did they get as happy? Excited? Did they form friendships? Bonds? Did they love the way we do? Both romantic and non? Did they plan? Anticipate? Did they wonder about death and worry about loss? How did they feel? Was it similar to how we feel today? Was it similar to how some of us feel today? Was it more like deviants? The mentally ill? More like well adjusted people? Like children? Like thugs? Like nuns? Did they have deviants, mentally ill, and well adjusted primitives? How were their emotions?
Nails curl beneath our tongues, dry and thin, and crunched with a twang, a snap between two teeth, hastily jammed into red-bleached gums.
the beginning of time when people were not “civilized”.
Your touch is electric,
your kisses are fire.
I’m drowning in a sea
of desire.
Bodies entangled,
Heart beats racing.
Sweat coating
each other’s skin.
you’re stuck
wild
fire in your hair
you’ve no idea how to move forward because – like an idiot – you forgot to pack more uranium.
You are /such/ a simpleton.
The thoughts floating in my mind are often seen as primitive, mainly by people like me. Mainly like me. But they’re profound at worst, terrible at best. What they are, are visceral realities. Things which can cut and tear and gnash and stew and sweep and kill and hope and dream. These thoughts are what make me me. They are what make me primal. Primitive, yes. But human.
People aren’t as advanced as they would like to believe they are. In fact, they’re quite primitive. Everything anyone ever does is done to fufill a basic need, whether that need is physical, emotional, or mental. Carnal desires, hunger, loneliness, people want to sate these things and they need to create more and more things that will sufficiently fill them with satisfactory feelings. It doesn’t work though.
We take life for granted these days. In the primitive era, you couldn’t even own a house. Heck, houses were nonexistent. You had to live just like every other animal in the world. We weren’t even at the top of the food chain!
I really don’t know what this means. i’m too lazy to search it up so… I DON’T KNOW WHAT PRIMITIVE MEANS>.< mmmkkkayy baiii:3
David drew comics for a living; a syndicated comic about the Civil War called, “The Silly South,” which was not the most popular. What David had in mind was a cross between Garfield, Beetle Bailey, and Dilbert, though David did not want to glorify war, or make it seem fun, like Beetle Bailey did. David just wanted to show, through humor, how exhausting certain things could be. Like cognitive dissonance, or tentative race relations. Plus, everybody everywhere was tiring of family circus — especially in today’s age of Prozac addled dysfunction, where father’s fucked the mothers of their children’s friends, and mother’s drank vino and were fucked by the fathers of their children’s friends, and the children sometimes watched through the windows where one child would turn to the other and say, “My Dad is giving it to your Mom good,” and the child whose mom was “getting it” would chase the child whose father was “giving it” and the trail they made as they chased each other would be represented by a dotted line ducking over bushes and under fences where it would finally end in an adolescent’s beating and the end of an already precarious friendship. This is what family circus should have been depicting, and it wasn’t, which is probably why it had waned so much in popularity. No, David’s comic might have been arcane, outdated, and full of racist jokes; but at least it wasn’t Family Circus, that tired, tired punchline.
their jokes
The age, it’s all gone. The data have never been heard before and its the age of primitive instincts. The savages are living as kings and they never had ruled liked this before. A land of the fit and survival of it are very much certain.
God, God, only God, always God. He was first. He created all of the humans that say they are first. First to realize something or come up with a “genius” idea. He rules over all of creation beause, well, it’s His. He is the definition of primitive.
“Primitive”. The word flashed for a second in his head in midair as he floated, frozen in time, over what he had strived for. The second before, he had acted uncouth – his lust, his angst all exploded into a sudden leap at the sight of what appeared to be dream made reality. Years of perseverance, of small talk, of pains and words unspoken, confessions that died on his lips. He has achieved the affection of the one he wanted most.
But as he acted, as he flew, the word flashed and everything stopped. A second later, it would be forgotten amongst the writhes of his passion – yet, had he taken a moment to consider it, to mark it to memory, he would have realized that, in some way, he was trying to save himself. To avoid becoming enslaved to desire, to remain in innocence.
It was elementary, really. An entirely primitive thing of nature, to want to be with someone. It was an easy, human concept — that part smarted a bit, he’d have to admit — but it was normal.
He didn’t want to be alone, but he was. It really wasn’t complicated, and yet he couldn’t seem to shake it away.
Delete that.
My primitive attempts at sophistication are so amusing,
it’s like a caveman trying to pass himself off as James Bond at the Ritz when everyone knows better- He wouldn’t be caught dead in a leisure suit…
In moments, they were reduced to primitive grappling and grunting and moaning as their bodies became entangled under the window sill. As the personnel in their vehicles puttered about in the quad, Jensen and the Ninja Babe were making time in the pale light of the afternoon sunshine on the floor of the abandoned complex.
Some people’s ideals about women are so archaic. What if I don’t want to cook? I would really like to have a man cook for me! I know the way to my heart is for sure a good meal! And good books, but that’s beside the point.
The primitive mind lay inside us all. Don’t be fooled into thinking that you are beyond primitive acts. Prime is the beginning, prime is the roots, and the beast lay in us all!
The man lumbered slowly across the land. He knew that living in a cave was primitive behavior, but on this island, he had to do all that he could to survive. He knew he might not…
The girl stared at the primitive object before her. Wooden and long, like some kind of weapon from early mankind. She’d never seen such a large club in her life. The only thing more compelling was the blood splattered over the handle.
Seeing your snot filled face only reassured me I’d made the right decision. In the six years we’ve been together, I had never seen you cry. But now that you feel I’ll never be yours again, you decide to pull this trump card. I wonder if the tears are even real or just another way to manipulate my emotions. The last trump card in your filthy sleeve.
How people were before us. Living in the wild, amongst the animals. No technology. Barely even fire. How simple, and yet so complicated life was for those people. How little we know about their personalities from their bones. They were people, with feelings, now only dust.
Theoretically, it seems as though I’ve “evolved” into a black sheep of sorts by means of a recently divulging ingroups bias (in a non-arbitrary context.) How primitive. There’s so much more to me you’re choosing to cover with judgement and self-made standards.
Sometimes I wish I could be primitive. I wish to live simply, without clutter, which I feel would eliminate so many of the stresses of day to day life. Oh to live with minimal things but have all that I need.
What does primitive mean? Oh! The first of its kind ;)
What does primitive mean? Oh! The first of its kind ;)
What does primitive mean? Oh! The first of its kind ;)
What does primitive mean? Oh! The first of its kind ;)
Your words leak onto the floor and stay there, a thick puddle to wade through. They are heavy and short and simple. I don’t want to pick them up. I don’t have to.
I like challenges.
You are not one.
These things that they do, I can’t understand them. They eat with their fingers, they take food from each others’ plates. I don’t think they know what napkins are for. I just do my best to eat, to have enough peace to digest, but it’s difficult, living with such primitives. Children aren’t what I thought they’d be.
I am from a primitive time as you are also from a primitive time. Even though our paths have never met we each have a story to tell.
The way the fight over land that should be shared equally. The way they promote their deity, their invisible and perhaps non-existent ‘supreme being’ as being ‘the one and only true Lord our God’. The way they cut down anyone who dares ask the important questions: “How do you know?” “What if I don’t believe?” “Why should I believe?” Primitive. Truly primitive.
primitive is uncultured and not in touch with what is hip and right. It is old fashioned or worse. It is unsensible and
Primitive. Grass growing, earth shaking, rivers running peacefully down white mountain peaks and green coated hills. Birds chippering with life.
The most primitive form of technology in 2300 was the cellphone. I was amazed that people even still used it. We had grown accustomed to our cyberglasses, monocles, headgear, and earpieces. We drove cars and talked with them on a daily basis. But I saw a man with a cellphone, chatting to a friend. It was surreal.
“A primitive species…. very primal….no very evolved at all” “You have no idea what you’re on about, do you, Doctor Marks?”
It’s the oldest, most basic of instincts. Something we crave, something we loathe, something we feel is as necessary as air but is actually nowhere near that vital. Yet still, we all strive to feel it, at least once.
The primitive awoke. Reason were burnt away by a raging flood of raw emotion and instinct. His muscles shook and twitched, blood rushing like fire through his veins. Darkness obscured his vision.
the primitive stages of ones youth can be painstakingly long
the vegetables, chores and such.
but when one looks back on ones childhood, from their current standing point, they will be thankful for the blistered hide and tears shed over imperfections.
Primitive is as were gorrillas or as people who still carve tools out of wood instead of making them out of metal. There used to be creatures such as mytoplancton or cave men.
Her thoughts lay inside the dark recesses of her mind like primitive cave paintings.