Racket.
“War only creates Racket.”
This was a quote on a sticker, on a stop sign that just happened to be on my way to school.
Everyday I would walk by this stop sign. With this sticker. And wonder what the heck it meant.
Racket?
Did they mean that it only caused noise?
Surely there could have been a better word to use than ‘racket’.
Racket. He kept on walking, past the bustling crowd continuing to talk about the secret to immortality. I felt that I had heard it all before, and this was all just a racket.
He made a racket. All the time. He would play the piano, chew his food, or just fidget in such a way that it could only be described as a racket. No matter how much you complained….the racket would only get worse when his attention was brought to it. So much so, I wanted to hit him with a racket…
I am not good at playing ping-pong all the time. At my high school, he taught me how to play it and practice with me for quite some time. I remember his beautiful motions to smash which i had been longing for. But finally i failed. I did not love it or love him.
theres a racket in the box. A lonely racket. What am I supposed to do with a racket if it doesnt have a ball? Damn, rackets boring me. What else is in this box? A shoe… A string… Food… oh YUCK!!
what a racket today with the dogs barking at the neighbours and the geese flying over just as the sun set. So much noise from the builders across the street. and then there was racket up the road with those trucks!
Yesterday I was transfixed by the amazing racket skills of top tennis pros Dokavich and Nadal. Its not often I get to sit, relax and enjoy some top class sporting action. But when I do I find that afterwards Im particularly inspired.
To him it was a beat, beautiful music being played on drums. To her it was a racket – she never quite heard beats and loud noises angered her… They hurried away and he looked wistfully back
noise. it’s causes a commotion. i can’t stand it, yet i wanna make it so bad. loud, clattering, banging, dishes hitting the sink, my clothes thrown into a bag. i hate this noise but i have to make it.
The racket in my mind has been silenced, and now everything is just quiet and numb. I make my lips form the shapes, mold the words, but I can’t hear them anymore. Am I broken? Where did all the letters fly to
Remind me again why I am doing this? The racket is a lead weight and I feel as though I am moving in slow motion. If we are doing this to demonstrate your ability to pick up another physical skill with ease, then I want it noted that I am not happy. I won’t be able to even tie my shoelaces tomorrow at this rate.
It’s noisy. My skin is rattling against my bones; blood boiling, pores pouring. I feel alight like a live wire. Like static. Like crashing plates. Like an ocean, overthrowing waves on the shore.
children create a racket. They dont think. They act. Perhpas they are the most creative because they are the most compulsive. Their racket comes from play, from thier unbridled emotions and imaginations. They run. Not walk. They yell. Not whisper. They scream and plod like elephants. They smile and cry. They are never innocent. But they are adorable.
rackets are good
one can play tennis with them
you can hit people with them when they make annoying noises.
you can also create a racket in a lecture if the lecturer is hell bent on teaching.
Rackets
life and soul of students
As she sat I could see it building within her. She was trying to ignore hearing, which caused the feeling she had. But when your work is that important and all of you shows up to write, the smallest hard noises ring through you, bringing a clanging halt to your mental train, and she had shown up today. At last, almost to my relief more than her own, she stood with an authority which immediately brought the noise of the others to a stop.
WIthout looking at anyone, she took her seat, and kept writing.
The racket at the bar was unbearable. Johnny’s head throbbed with pain, he could feel the blood dripping through his fingers, onto his lips and into his mouth. A familiar taste, one that recalled all his past memories. He had heard once that smell was the sense that most vividly triggered memory, yet he couldn’t help but realize every time he tasted his own blood, all his experiences crashed over him like a riptide.
But on the other hand, there are so much other things to do with a racket then just play badminton with. You can also hit people with it. You can also do other things on campings, than just playing badminton. Badminton feels like wasting your time on playing with a little shuttle over and over again.
I wanna hit so many people with a racket over the face. Racket resembles noise, and noise annoys me very much. I like peace and quiet. The world should be more peaceful. Rack = I should have a big rack. People annoy me.Rackets need to be in my room for protection.
Oops. I am very sorry. I used words that are not very delightful. A racket is something I remember playing with when I’m on holidays, chillin’ on the camping, playing badminton in the sun. Holidays. Sun. Timeless days.
Sigh. Fuck you. I’ve had this word for about three times today now, but okay, I will write about it. A racket is very cool, because you can use it to enjoy yourself. You can also play with it to enjoy it with other people. Maybe this sounds a little bit dirty, but it’s not. It’s just a sports game!
I go outside to look at the horizon, still glowing faintly from the sun’s departure from the sky. I’m struck with a sense of being right where I should be, right where I belong. It’s beautiful and terrible and my eyes well up with tears, and I start laughing.
There was a loud noise outside the window. I heard the racket come from down the stairs. Terrified, I bolted from my computer chair to see what it was. Something could be happening out there – something horrible. What if they were coming for us? What if they had come back? I knew I couldn’t stay here any longer. Every noise made me jump from my chair, and I had to get out. It was time. I grabbed my coat and fled, leaving out the back door.
what’s all the racket? My upstairs neighbor couldn’t stop yelling today. I heard him all day, yelling, yelling, YELLING. I assume he was playing video games, or watching basketball. This is why I don’t like apartments.
The racket mesh rattled and two strings two when it met the ball. Kids playing with stolen tennis rackets and baseballs filled the yard. Trash littered the field and an out of tune ice cream truck was parked, and vandalized just outside school grounds. The teacher tossed the baseball again, the racket broke and the kids stood confused as to why the teacher had broken down crying.
The sheer sorrow of one’s dismal situation and the innocence that can still be found is a powerful thing.
For some reason, things just seemed weird. There was a tense feeling in the air as the beads of sweat rolled down our faces. With our muskets raised, we fired. Exploding gun powder filled the air, creating large sonic booms that shattered our ear drums.
The rain hit hard on the metal galvanised roof causing a loud racket filling my ears. It felt like there was an atomic bomb outside my window and it just blasted every now and then. It’s small inside this room. And I wish I can escape. The only thing keeping me company is the racket caused by the rain.
Racket.
“War only creates Racket.”
This was a quote on a sticker, on a stop sign that just happened to be on my way to school.
Everyday I would walk by this stop sign. With this sticker. And wonder what the heck it meant.
Racket?
Did they mean that it only caused noise?
Surely there could have been a better word to use than ‘racket’.
Racket. He kept on walking, past the bustling crowd continuing to talk about the secret to immortality. I felt that I had heard it all before, and this was all just a racket.
He made a racket. All the time. He would play the piano, chew his food, or just fidget in such a way that it could only be described as a racket. No matter how much you complained….the racket would only get worse when his attention was brought to it. So much so, I wanted to hit him with a racket…
ping pong for giants, stop making a racket and remeber to swoosh your chips
I am not good at playing ping-pong all the time. At my high school, he taught me how to play it and practice with me for quite some time. I remember his beautiful motions to smash which i had been longing for. But finally i failed. I did not love it or love him.
causing a racket.
partys
fights
yelling
screaming
fighting
misunderstanding
tennis
badmitten
going to all teh partys causing a racket
pickin up the hunnies cause you lack it
Air guitar? No. I used to play guitar with a tennis racket. I make racket now with my real guitar. What do you make?
If I only knew what it meant, I would hang on. It’s not a rocket, but it’ll take you places. What else is there to do? Forgiveness is easy.
theres a racket in the box. A lonely racket. What am I supposed to do with a racket if it doesnt have a ball? Damn, rackets boring me. What else is in this box? A shoe… A string… Food… oh YUCK!!
ppop
what a racket today with the dogs barking at the neighbours and the geese flying over just as the sun set. So much noise from the builders across the street. and then there was racket up the road with those trucks!
Tennis was my second choice for a high school sport. I’ve played ever since I was a little girl. Will I regret not sticking with it? Maybe.
Yesterday I was transfixed by the amazing racket skills of top tennis pros Dokavich and Nadal. Its not often I get to sit, relax and enjoy some top class sporting action. But when I do I find that afterwards Im particularly inspired.
To him it was a beat, beautiful music being played on drums. To her it was a racket – she never quite heard beats and loud noises angered her… They hurried away and he looked wistfully back
What a racket was created in my village yesterday, only because of an unfortunate misunderstanding. So many people got hurt for no reason at all.
noise. it’s causes a commotion. i can’t stand it, yet i wanna make it so bad. loud, clattering, banging, dishes hitting the sink, my clothes thrown into a bag. i hate this noise but i have to make it.
this can be an instrument to play or a scandal run under everybody’s nose. whenever it gets published in the newspaper it creates an uproar.
In time to come, the racket will be rid of cobwebs and algae. It’s a practical wall-decoration currently, and it seems happy to be one.
The racket in my mind has been silenced, and now everything is just quiet and numb. I make my lips form the shapes, mold the words, but I can’t hear them anymore. Am I broken? Where did all the letters fly to
A really fun sport material, easy to use and fun to play with.The main tool for playing badminton.
Remind me again why I am doing this? The racket is a lead weight and I feel as though I am moving in slow motion. If we are doing this to demonstrate your ability to pick up another physical skill with ease, then I want it noted that I am not happy. I won’t be able to even tie my shoelaces tomorrow at this rate.
It’s noisy. My skin is rattling against my bones; blood boiling, pores pouring. I feel alight like a live wire. Like static. Like crashing plates. Like an ocean, overthrowing waves on the shore.
But… my head is silent.
Unpleasant loud noise not good to a human ear perhaps.Rousing feelings of unpleasantness inside.
children create a racket. They dont think. They act. Perhpas they are the most creative because they are the most compulsive. Their racket comes from play, from thier unbridled emotions and imaginations. They run. Not walk. They yell. Not whisper. They scream and plod like elephants. They smile and cry. They are never innocent. But they are adorable.
rackets are good
one can play tennis with them
you can hit people with them when they make annoying noises.
you can also create a racket in a lecture if the lecturer is hell bent on teaching.
Rackets
life and soul of students
As she sat I could see it building within her. She was trying to ignore hearing, which caused the feeling she had. But when your work is that important and all of you shows up to write, the smallest hard noises ring through you, bringing a clanging halt to your mental train, and she had shown up today. At last, almost to my relief more than her own, she stood with an authority which immediately brought the noise of the others to a stop.
WIthout looking at anyone, she took her seat, and kept writing.
The racket at the bar was unbearable. Johnny’s head throbbed with pain, he could feel the blood dripping through his fingers, onto his lips and into his mouth. A familiar taste, one that recalled all his past memories. He had heard once that smell was the sense that most vividly triggered memory, yet he couldn’t help but realize every time he tasted his own blood, all his experiences crashed over him like a riptide.
A device used to play games involving balls like tennis, table tennis, cricket, sqaush. Played with hands.
But on the other hand, there are so much other things to do with a racket then just play badminton with. You can also hit people with it. You can also do other things on campings, than just playing badminton. Badminton feels like wasting your time on playing with a little shuttle over and over again.
I wanna hit so many people with a racket over the face. Racket resembles noise, and noise annoys me very much. I like peace and quiet. The world should be more peaceful. Rack = I should have a big rack. People annoy me.Rackets need to be in my room for protection.
Oops. I am very sorry. I used words that are not very delightful. A racket is something I remember playing with when I’m on holidays, chillin’ on the camping, playing badminton in the sun. Holidays. Sun. Timeless days.
Place it in my hand
run my fingers over the nylon strung tight and hard in
a chequred pattern
smash the ball and hear the pang
Sigh. Fuck you. I’ve had this word for about three times today now, but okay, I will write about it. A racket is very cool, because you can use it to enjoy yourself. You can also play with it to enjoy it with other people. Maybe this sounds a little bit dirty, but it’s not. It’s just a sports game!
I go outside to look at the horizon, still glowing faintly from the sun’s departure from the sky. I’m struck with a sense of being right where I should be, right where I belong. It’s beautiful and terrible and my eyes well up with tears, and I start laughing.
There was a loud noise outside the window. I heard the racket come from down the stairs. Terrified, I bolted from my computer chair to see what it was. Something could be happening out there – something horrible. What if they were coming for us? What if they had come back? I knew I couldn’t stay here any longer. Every noise made me jump from my chair, and I had to get out. It was time. I grabbed my coat and fled, leaving out the back door.
what’s all the racket? My upstairs neighbor couldn’t stop yelling today. I heard him all day, yelling, yelling, YELLING. I assume he was playing video games, or watching basketball. This is why I don’t like apartments.
The racket mesh rattled and two strings two when it met the ball. Kids playing with stolen tennis rackets and baseballs filled the yard. Trash littered the field and an out of tune ice cream truck was parked, and vandalized just outside school grounds. The teacher tossed the baseball again, the racket broke and the kids stood confused as to why the teacher had broken down crying.
The sheer sorrow of one’s dismal situation and the innocence that can still be found is a powerful thing.
She heard the moans leaking through her apartment wall.
She thought she’d be annoyed.
The heavy breathing,
the surprised gasps, the fulfilled sighs.
But it just made her
that
much
hotter.
For some reason, things just seemed weird. There was a tense feeling in the air as the beads of sweat rolled down our faces. With our muskets raised, we fired. Exploding gun powder filled the air, creating large sonic booms that shattered our ear drums.
The rain hit hard on the metal galvanised roof causing a loud racket filling my ears. It felt like there was an atomic bomb outside my window and it just blasted every now and then. It’s small inside this room. And I wish I can escape. The only thing keeping me company is the racket caused by the rain.