I actually want to know what you think!
I actually want to know what you think!
Hello everyone, I have seen some good writing on here and do appreciate it, currently trying to find my style(I suppose) without any kind of formal training, I would like to know, even at a very starter like, basic level, if this excerpt amounts to any more than a little bit of pooh. Wanted to write something about something for years now and never had the stones to ask opinion. Still no stones, but none of you will see my shame behind my keyboard. This was written as a piss take to inform my family back home of my important news. Have at it!
These old places always give me the creeps. Long narrow hallways, malfunctioning, flickering lights, it's early so there is no one around. We walk down the corridor, looking for signs of life, there is not even a real discernible smell to create this atmosphere, unless you count urine. The smell of urine pervades, but this is Cambodia and there is an unattended wall just outside, when you gotta go, you gotta go, I suppose. No one is risen by our presence and my nerves are shot, my partner carries her injuries well but I can tell she is crumbling under the strain. I feel quite helpless, where the hell are the people? Shouldn't there be a security guard at least, to raise the alarm. Another corner turned, I see life, a room has it's lights on, all working it would seem. People come and go, at quite a leisurely pace, they look like nurses, I hope they are. Somebody takes my partners hand and gestures for me to be seated. There is a small space next to an old guy, asleep on the stone bench, there is a stronger smell of urine than ever. This guy doesn't even bother with the customary wall outside, I stay upright. I walk toward the doorway and I can see blood on the floor, a plastic bin also has crimson soaked items splashed, hanging half in half out for me to raise panic over. I strain to hear a thing, I know she is in there and I know others are around, but no sounds, none at all. Maybe this is the room where they enter to simply pass away and be unprofessionally slopped into those bins I saw, I don't know anything right now, can't think straight, the old man has woken and is scratching his balls and arse hole simultaneously, the circus has begun. I am led by a young nurse into a room, I see my partner, spreadeagled on a bed, a bloody mess. Nobody says a word. I look to her and try to approach, only to be attacked by an old matriarch who, I think tells me to get the fuck out. I am asked to leave by the young nurse. what the hell is happening? Why did I need to see that and be balled at to get out? I pace the corridor just outside and wait again, the old man wants to make my acquaintance and offers his hand, I gently tap him on his shoulder and ask how he is. I have only been here fifteen minutes and you know what comes next, eternity would be a blip in comparison. The gruesome twosome now exit the room and corner me. Where is my girl I am asking, whilst the old nurse spouts alien to me. "Give me $50", the young nurse says. I am often filled with incredulity in this country, timing is everything and Cambodian people lack it in spades. "What for?" I almost squawk, "your wife is bleeding and we can fix it for fifty dollars" "Fuck me, of course yes, would you not have considered doing the fixing first and then pestering me for cash?" It's all quite normal, so I agree and they scurry off. Still no sounds and the sight of her has saddled up in my brain and is trotting around and around, I'm worried. Then an older, middle aged woman darts out and is flapping all around me without really letting me know that she is talking to me specifically. I'm getting, "girl", "fat/big" "blood, no problem". I stand at the doorway, nothing, still really quiet considering where we are. It is exactly 5am now, it's kind of getting light, in true Cambodian fashion, even daybreak is quite half arsed. Another squawk, very faint but a squawk nonetheless. More prolonged now but still really quiet, I still can't be 100%. Then it's there, the truest most heartbreaking yet uplifting sound you will ever hear. My baby girl is alive and well. Tani was born yesterday at 5am, October 7th 2013. She was a decent 3.4Kilos and can already scream the house down. Mum is fine and we are all happy. Still no receipt for the fifty, that, just like her first cry, will seemingly never come.
These old places always give me the creeps. Long narrow hallways, malfunctioning, flickering lights, it's early so there is no one around. We walk down the corridor, looking for signs of life, there is not even a real discernible smell to create this atmosphere, unless you count urine. The smell of urine pervades, but this is Cambodia and there is an unattended wall just outside, when you gotta go, you gotta go, I suppose. No one is risen by our presence and my nerves are shot, my partner carries her injuries well but I can tell she is crumbling under the strain. I feel quite helpless, where the hell are the people? Shouldn't there be a security guard at least, to raise the alarm. Another corner turned, I see life, a room has it's lights on, all working it would seem. People come and go, at quite a leisurely pace, they look like nurses, I hope they are. Somebody takes my partners hand and gestures for me to be seated. There is a small space next to an old guy, asleep on the stone bench, there is a stronger smell of urine than ever. This guy doesn't even bother with the customary wall outside, I stay upright. I walk toward the doorway and I can see blood on the floor, a plastic bin also has crimson soaked items splashed, hanging half in half out for me to raise panic over. I strain to hear a thing, I know she is in there and I know others are around, but no sounds, none at all. Maybe this is the room where they enter to simply pass away and be unprofessionally slopped into those bins I saw, I don't know anything right now, can't think straight, the old man has woken and is scratching his balls and arse hole simultaneously, the circus has begun. I am led by a young nurse into a room, I see my partner, spreadeagled on a bed, a bloody mess. Nobody says a word. I look to her and try to approach, only to be attacked by an old matriarch who, I think tells me to get the fuck out. I am asked to leave by the young nurse. what the hell is happening? Why did I need to see that and be balled at to get out? I pace the corridor just outside and wait again, the old man wants to make my acquaintance and offers his hand, I gently tap him on his shoulder and ask how he is. I have only been here fifteen minutes and you know what comes next, eternity would be a blip in comparison. The gruesome twosome now exit the room and corner me. Where is my girl I am asking, whilst the old nurse spouts alien to me. "Give me $50", the young nurse says. I am often filled with incredulity in this country, timing is everything and Cambodian people lack it in spades. "What for?" I almost squawk, "your wife is bleeding and we can fix it for fifty dollars" "Fuck me, of course yes, would you not have considered doing the fixing first and then pestering me for cash?" It's all quite normal, so I agree and they scurry off. Still no sounds and the sight of her has saddled up in my brain and is trotting around and around, I'm worried. Then an older, middle aged woman darts out and is flapping all around me without really letting me know that she is talking to me specifically. I'm getting, "girl", "fat/big" "blood, no problem". I stand at the doorway, nothing, still really quiet considering where we are. It is exactly 5am now, it's kind of getting light, in true Cambodian fashion, even daybreak is quite half arsed. Another squawk, very faint but a squawk nonetheless. More prolonged now but still really quiet, I still can't be 100%. Then it's there, the truest most heartbreaking yet uplifting sound you will ever hear. My baby girl is alive and well. Tani was born yesterday at 5am, October 7th 2013. She was a decent 3.4Kilos and can already scream the house down. Mum is fine and we are all happy. Still no receipt for the fifty, that, just like her first cry, will seemingly never come.
Thanks, and you're welcome!mezmo wrote:Hello everyone, I have seen some good writing on here and do appreciate it,...
About your writing! I thought it was great, LoL! Personally, I wish it were broken down into paragraphs, but that's just me. Maybe it would break your "flow" though.
I would agree with Cambo on the breaking down bit.
I look at something that big & I automatically 'skim' it, can't help myself.
So that the flow/ pressure build up doesn't work so well for me because I am not reading it as it should be.
Apart from that I like the tale & the way it was told.
But then I am one of the few that appears to like most of the 440K front pages, so maybe I just have low threshold on reading material ...
Congratulations on Tani & as long as you can write at night you should have plenty of time on your hands...
I look at something that big & I automatically 'skim' it, can't help myself.
So that the flow/ pressure build up doesn't work so well for me because I am not reading it as it should be.
Apart from that I like the tale & the way it was told.
But then I am one of the few that appears to like most of the 440K front pages, so maybe I just have low threshold on reading material ...
Congratulations on Tani & as long as you can write at night you should have plenty of time on your hands...
- Falcon Randwick
- Damn, I just saw my Internet Bill !
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- Joined: Mon Feb 14, 2005 2:55 pm
Very nicely written. A great atmospheric piece, gripping even. Now it's been properly edited, people can read it without re-reading lines. Paragraphs serve two main purposes; firstly, they allow the reader to focus on each particular set idea. As I tell my students, every new idea deserves its own paragraph. Secondly, and especially important given the digital medium, it gives the reader's eyes space to digest the words. Nothing is lost in the flow, but so much is gained by narrative coherence.mezmo wrote:These old places always give me the creeps. Long narrow hallways, malfunctioning, flickering lights, it's early so there is no one around. We walk down the corridor, looking for signs of life, there is not even a real discernible smell to create this atmosphere, unless you count urine. The smell of urine pervades, but this is Cambodia and there is an unattended wall just outside, when you gotta go, you gotta go, I suppose.
No one is risen by our presence and my nerves are shot, my partner carries her injuries well but I can tell she is crumbling under the strain. I feel quite helpless, where the hell are the people? Shouldn't there be a security guard at least, to raise the alarm. Another corner turned, I see life, a room has it's lights on, all working it would seem. People come and go, at quite a leisurely pace, they look like nurses, I hope they are.
Somebody takes my partners hand and gestures for me to be seated. There is a small space next to an old guy, asleep on the stone bench, there is a stronger smell of urine than ever. This guy doesn't even bother with the customary wall outside, I stay upright. I walk toward the doorway and I can see blood on the floor, a plastic bin also has crimson soaked items splashed, hanging half in half out for me to raise panic over. I strain to hear a thing, I know she is in there and I know others are around, but no sounds, none at all. Maybe this is the room where they enter to simply pass away and be unprofessionally slopped into those bins I saw, I don't know anything right now, can't think straight, the old man has woken and is scratching his balls and arse hole simultaneously, the circus has begun.
I am led by a young nurse into a room, I see my partner, spreadeagled on a bed, a bloody mess. Nobody says a word. I look to her and try to approach, only to be attacked by an old matriarch who, I think tells me to get the fuck out. I am asked to leave by the young nurse. what the hell is happening? Why did I need to see that and be balled at to get out? I pace the corridor just outside and wait again, the old man wants to make my acquaintance and offers his hand, I gently tap him on his shoulder and ask how he is. I have only been here fifteen minutes and you know what comes next, eternity would be a blip in comparison.
The gruesome twosome now exit the room and corner me. Where is my girl I am asking, whilst the old nurse spouts alien to me. "Give me $50", the young nurse says. I am often filled with incredulity in this country, timing is everything and Cambodian people lack it in spades. "What for?" I almost squawk, "your wife is bleeding and we can fix it for fifty dollars" "Fuck me, of course yes, would you not have considered doing the fixing first and then pestering me for cash?" It's all quite normal, so I agree and they scurry off. Still no sounds and the sight of her has saddled up in my brain and is trotting around and around, I'm worried. Then an older, middle aged woman darts out and is flapping all around me without really letting me know that she is talking to me specifically. I'm getting, "girl", "fat/big" "blood, no problem".
I stand at the doorway, nothing, still really quiet considering where we are. It is exactly 5am now, it's kind of getting light, in true Cambodian fashion, even daybreak is quite half arsed. Another squawk, very faint but a squawk nonetheless. More prolonged now but still really quiet, I still can't be 100%. Then it's there, the truest most heartbreaking yet uplifting sound you will ever hear. My baby girl is alive and well. Tani was born yesterday at 5am, October 7th 2013. She was a decent 3.4Kilos and can already scream the house down. Mum is fine and we are all happy. Still no receipt for the fifty, that, just like her first cry, will seemingly never come.
Like Potato Stars on facebook. We're likable...
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Thanks peeps,
Yeah, lazy arse, I just pasted straight from Arsebook and couldn't be fingered to arrange it. Totally agree that I have actually invited skimming, who in their right mind would take it in word for word, unless it was known to be written by some famous bloke.
Gonna keep practicing, funny that this shiz does only seem to 'flow' sometimes and others my mind is as blank as my CV where it says
Higher education...........
Cheers again, the baby has just shat all over the joint, please picture semi flying infant in hammock does big runny dump, father nowhere to be found, headline type scenario.
Cambod, I have Googled your reply and the punctuation seems to be fine, maybe just a little more effort regarding substance in the future. Again, regarding substance, baby gloop freakin hums.
Out of here!
Yeah, lazy arse, I just pasted straight from Arsebook and couldn't be fingered to arrange it. Totally agree that I have actually invited skimming, who in their right mind would take it in word for word, unless it was known to be written by some famous bloke.
Gonna keep practicing, funny that this shiz does only seem to 'flow' sometimes and others my mind is as blank as my CV where it says
Higher education...........
Cheers again, the baby has just shat all over the joint, please picture semi flying infant in hammock does big runny dump, father nowhere to be found, headline type scenario.
Cambod, I have Googled your reply and the punctuation seems to be fine, maybe just a little more effort regarding substance in the future. Again, regarding substance, baby gloop freakin hums.
Out of here!
Cheers Falcon,
I am a little embarrassed that I couldn't have done it earlier. Honestly, the house reeks. She's stunning, but stinks.
She's stunning, but stinks. Anyone?
I am a little embarrassed that I couldn't have done it earlier. Honestly, the house reeks. She's stunning, but stinks.
She's stunning, but stinks. Anyone?
- Falcon Randwick
- Damn, I just saw my Internet Bill !
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Ahh... the beguiling aroma of runny baby poo. I kinda miss it, actually. babies smell great.
Like Potato Stars on facebook. We're likable...
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...and make your ears hate you by listening to us here
https://soundcloud.com/falcon-randwick
https://www.facebook.com/potstars1
...and make your ears hate you by listening to us here
https://soundcloud.com/falcon-randwick
Now that's ridiculous! Who are you going to trust: Cambod or a little tech company called Google?mezmo wrote:
Cambod, I have Googled your reply and the punctuation seems to be fine,...
You're doing it wrong! You shouldn't smoke around the baby! ! !mezmo wrote: ... the baby has just shat all over the joint, ...
P.S. For me, Falcon's version was much easier on the eyes and doesn't take away from the flow....
- Falcon Randwick
- Damn, I just saw my Internet Bill !
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There are a couple of minor punctuation errors. I decided not to touch them as it's not my piece, I was merely hoping to show the advantages of correct parsing.
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...and make your ears hate you by listening to us here
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Definitely. I honestly wouldn't have read it in its original version, but I'm glad that FR edited it to make it readable. Nice one, OP. Nice edit, FR.cambod wrote:P.S. For me, Falcon's version was much easier on the eyes and doesn't take away from the flow....
Yeah, that was a good piece, although I have to admit that I scrolled down and read Falcons edited version.
Brings back memories of my daughters birth just over a year ago. Pretty weird experience.
Sitting outside on a concrete bench reading Cambodian history after getting shooed out by a matronly nurse. Walking back in an hour or so later and seeing my wife spread eagled on the torture rack....blood everywhere.....young nurse saying that it wasn't her fault my daughters foot was twisted, stitching my wife up from where they made an incision. Standing there numb while they passed a piece of note paper to my wife to write our daughters name for them.....her trying to figure out how to spell the name and write it, still strapped in to the rack, needle still making its haphazard path through her physical pain and the mental anguish that maybe her daughter was deformed. They had whisked the babe away even while telling her it wasn't their fault the foot was mangled. My sweet woman turned to me and asked for the spelling in English.
I almost swooned.
All the best with new member of you family. Good read. Thanks.
Brings back memories of my daughters birth just over a year ago. Pretty weird experience.
Sitting outside on a concrete bench reading Cambodian history after getting shooed out by a matronly nurse. Walking back in an hour or so later and seeing my wife spread eagled on the torture rack....blood everywhere.....young nurse saying that it wasn't her fault my daughters foot was twisted, stitching my wife up from where they made an incision. Standing there numb while they passed a piece of note paper to my wife to write our daughters name for them.....her trying to figure out how to spell the name and write it, still strapped in to the rack, needle still making its haphazard path through her physical pain and the mental anguish that maybe her daughter was deformed. They had whisked the babe away even while telling her it wasn't their fault the foot was mangled. My sweet woman turned to me and asked for the spelling in English.
I almost swooned.
All the best with new member of you family. Good read. Thanks.
Some men you just can't reach. So you get what we had here last week, which is the way he wants it... well, he gets it. I don't like it any more than you men.