Far further than you could possibly imagine

This is the place to post questions and discussions on usage and style. The members of the Wordwizard Clubhouse will also often be able to help you to formulate that difficult letter.

Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Thu Mar 27, 2008 4:28 am

I am newcomer on this forum and English is not my native language.
My English is very poor and can't find any British English language native person for helping me just to point out my usual mistakes and misspellings. Here some text that I wrote. Please tell me what is wrong here, and what you would never write:

A day in the garden with mad genius

Let me in... Let me in through these gates of this yard, in this hole and waiting for someone who standing behind the blue door.
No answer.
The man in the black coat silently gazed at me at the rear of the garden.
“Hello”, my broken English sounded awfully and I was confused a little bit.
The man disappeared in the bushes. I was confused little bit more.
In the course of a few minutes he reappeared, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and rumpling his plastic bag. He stood looking outside for some moments, and then I saw him walk in an oddly furtive manner towards the gates.
Nobody there, today I was alone, I hope.
“Hello, Mr. Barrett”, I said thinking how is better to call him, like this way I have said or just “Sir”.
“Hi”, he answered finally.
“Are you Mr. Barrett?” I asked.
“Yes, but if you are looking for Syd or something like that he is not living here. Okay?”
“Well, I am looking for you, Sir”, I said, O, God, I should say “…for you, Mr. Barrett”
The man after some hesitation, leant against of the gates, produced a small can tin, took the plastic lighter and prepared to smoke. His fingers trembled while doing so.
...
4:00 p.m.
...
“What do you want to know?” he asked calmly with warm in his voice and smiled.
“Everything”, wordless at moment I quite lost in astonishment.
“You know, there are lots of people who came here to know everything, but you have already know everything since you came here. Nothing to add. Nothing at all.”
“But what happened in the last years, what happened actually then?”
“Nothing happened”, old Syd has grinned quite same he was on his old pictures.
“Did you write new songs?”
“Yes, a little… I spent more time for painting, you see”, he just felt to thinking for a while, “You see these roses and leafage around? I still wonder how they are helping to live here, so many years… So many fucking years they thought I was mad, and that was actually my idea. It is better to be mad hiding in nowhere and being nobody. They’re used to call me “crazy diamond” but I don’t like it really, so foolish. No sense to use these symbols then, what “crazy diamond” am I? Look at me. When I was younger I thought the music can join with painting and then with colours, with tastes and everything that I felt. But I am losing. Now I didn’t felt sounds or colours, I have lost that gift.
What about Pink Floyd… I listened them several times, they became bigger, and what I remember from sixties we didn’t agree to make such machine for making only money, this was nonsense for sixties, you know. And I was honest, the only…
Music? I don’t think its music or art. Just a pop muzak, nothing else. I don’t remember who said first we should record Emily on there? Was that me?
No, no. I was a big fan of glam era, really. I bought tons of albums living in London. This exciting vivacious pulsating music it is so helpful when you’re smoking a dope and something more.
Acid? No more acid again. Above and beyond I misplaced it. You can’t buy good acid now. You feel like dirt in your mouth. When they started to use the blots I have denied it ultimately. No more good acid again.
Women? No comments… Had them a lot but was only one you’ll never know who she was…
Roger Waters? Who is it? Never heard about it before…
...
5:00 p.m.
...
5:30 p.m.
...
“My wonderful roses, I love them all. Do you believe that I have a little bird living under the roof. Little bird coming every night to sing a song for me before a sleep...”
...
6:00 p.m.
...
6:22 p.m.
...
“Once upon a time a red tail squirrel was my important guest. Very important, you know...”
...
We spent more hours when evening came. I felt it would be imprudence to leave so precious him alone. But he required.
Some piece of paper wind rolled on the ground...
...
I have gone for the next day to come again.



And here another texts that I'm writing on:

http://farfurther.blogspot.com/
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Tony Farg » Thu Mar 27, 2008 9:15 am

Being a Floyd fan, I'll have a go. I have printed it off, and will work on it. It may be difficult to "correct" your English without losing some of the charm of your writing.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Tony Farg » Thu Mar 27, 2008 10:01 am

Well, it's a lovely sunny day, so I have to get out in the veg. garden
As a consequence, this is very hastily done, but it may give you some help. I haven't even proofread what I've typed. There are far more erudite wizards than I, so watch this space.
Let me in…Let me in through these gates of this yard, in this hole waiting for someone who may be standing behind the blue doors.
No answer.
The man in the black coat gazed silently at me at the rear of the garden.
“Hello”. My broken English sounded awful and I was a little bit confused.
The man disappeared in the bushes. I was confused a little bit more.
In the course of a few minutes he reappeared, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and rumpling his plastic bag. He stood looking outside for some moments, and then I saw him walk in an oddly furtive manner towards the gates.
Nobody there. Today I was alone, I hope.
“Hello, Mr Barrett” I said, thinking it was better to call him that than “Sir”.
“Hi” he answered finally.
“Are you Mr. Barrett?” I asked.
“Yes, but if you are looking for Syd he is not living here. Okay?”.
“Well, I am looking for you, Sir”, I said. O God, I should say “Mr. Barrett”.
After some hesitation the man, leaning against the gates produced a small tin and a plastic lighter and prepared to smoke. His fingers trembled.

4.00 p.m.

“What do you want to know?” he asked calmly with warmth in his voice, and smiled.
“Everything”, I became wordless for a moment, quite lost in awe.
“You know, lots of people came here to learn everything, but you have already learned everything since you arrived. Nothing to add. Nothing at all.”
“But what happened in these last years. What happened?”
“Nothing happened”. Syd grinned, quite the same as he was in his old pictures.
“Did you write new songs?”
“Yes, a few…I spent more time painting, you see”. He fell silent, thinking. “You see these roses and foliage around? I still wonder how they are living here for so many years…so many fucking years they thought I was mad. That was my intention. It is better to be mad, hiding nowhere and being nobody. They used to call me “crazy diamond” but I don’t like it really, so foolish. No sense using these metaphors, what crazy diamond am I? Look at me. When I was younger I thought music could join with painting, with colours, with tastes and everything that I felt. But I am losing it. I no longer feel sounds or colours, I have lost that gift.
What about Pink Floyd…I listened to them occasionally. They became bigger, but from my memories of the sixties we did not agree to make a machine for making money, this was nonsense in the sixties, you know. And to be honest, the only…
Music? I don’t think it’s music or art. Just muzak, nothing else. I don’t remember who first said we should record Emily. Was that me?
No no. I was a big Glam fan, really. I bought tons of albums living in London. This exciting vivacious pulsating music is cool when you’re smoking dope and more.
Acid? No more acid. I went over the top with it. You can’t buy good acid now…tastes like dirt. When they brought out the blots, I rejected it ultimately. No more good acid.
Women? No comment. Had a lot, but there was only one…you’ll never know who she was.
Roger Waters? Never heard of him.
….
…. “ I love my wonderful roses. I have a little bird living under the roof. The little bird comes every night and sings to me before I sleep.

.. Once a red squirrel was my guest. Very important, you know…”

We stayed there until evening came. I did not want to leave such a precious person alone, but he insisted.
Wind rolled papers along the ground…
I left, to return the next day.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Thu Mar 27, 2008 10:48 am

Thank you, Tony.

I really couldn't find words to express my appreciation for your response and so kind help.
Hope you also enjoyed my blog as you are a Pink Floyd fan.
I am a big fan of Roger 'Keith' Barrett and even I am writing a fiction book about him with the same misspelling inside. Excerpts on my blog won't appear in the book. They're just small experiments and tries to find a style.

For the story above I just should compare both texts to learn my mistakes.

Really didn't expect... So lovely... Thank you and thank you again...

I also want to ask you one thing. I called my musical LP about reclusion years of Syd Barrett 'Perplexed Infinity'. I've tried to put in this title that meaning that Syd has fooled the time and never get out of his reclusion till to death.
So, is this title (Perplexed Infinity) is OK?

With my best and warmest regards,
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Tony Farg » Thu Mar 27, 2008 7:53 pm

1) having re-read my text, I discover it is not without its own mistakes...so be careful!
2) Your title. Hmmm. Perplexed Infinity does not "do it " for me, if I understand properly what your description means.
I am not sure what you mean when you say "has fooled the time". Perhaps you could say that again another way, and explain what you mean more clearly.
Meanwhile, I could suggest another title, from one of Syd's songs..."biding my time" which has some of the idea of waiting (for death) you want.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Fri Mar 28, 2008 2:19 am

Thank you again, Tony.

I have another text, more complicated, titled "Perplexed Infinity" It has more misspellings, and if you have time, would you be so kind to read it and give some advice...

This is a short review of Roger ‘Syd’ Barret's twenty-five years life in non-existence in his own house in Cambridge, UK in 1981-2006. Each phase of this period interrelated to each track in the album in the same chronological order.

"Perplexed Infinity"

1. Slow train is homing (July, 1981)

It was on Tuesday and the night train from King's Cross rolled to Cambridge through the raw white fog. Lone and old bearded man in dark brown coat preferred to sit alone. All the way through the trip, he looked out from the window to see the lands he never discovered. He preferred to sit alone but he didn’t manage to this.
The rest of the way he travelled with the man sitting diagonally to him who tried to read newspapers. Eventually he has informed that no new news he has found there. He sat calmly. Periodically he pulled his baseball cap on eyes and slumbered He said he had been suffering from weird and wonderful disease fifty miles before. A doctor is called to examine him in his hotel room in London. Few gapers also took some part in the examination. They all take particular interest in the sore on his belly.
He introduced himself as Roger. It was really nice to meet him. Roger Barrett, a pop-artist. He said: “Never to return. Not a long distance.” He said he was thinking that it was time he drove over to see his own new house.
Two blonde girls stared at him few moments and then disappeared in the crimson haze.
Seemed there was only one other train from London that night and the chances were it would be completely disappeared into the fog. Slow train is homing so long time at the boundless Cambridge platform. The man who sat diagonally said that it was just big serotonin fluids. He said also he was going to be a doctor one day and knows all that very well. By the way he never interested in the excited views outside the window. No such interest in the lands he never discovered.
With trembling hands he had threw newspapers into the big aged bag and had gone outside the hissing coach. He knew he moved towards the spanking new ages.

2. Sweet of you to come (August, 1981)

He was rich and distinguished. Things are going really well.
Little girl was so filled with big surprise when she gazed at the baseball cap.
Hope all is well in sweet home. Anyhow, he stayed behind, and lived for quite awhile the last of his connection in the county.
He gazed at the floor. He needed a time to rethink his life again. Life could be wonderful.
He went to the dining-room with a sullen face. At table his mom made some mention, but he gave her such a short and angry answer that she abstained from further speech.
The son also did not lift his eyes from his plate, and was silent all the time. They finished their dinner in silence, rose from the table and separated, without a word. After dinner Roger went to his room, took the ticket and the change out of his pocket, and threw the money on the table. After a while he took out some cigarette papers, rolled one up, stuffed it with some grass, and began to smoke.
He sat down to work, and began to study an ornamental art out of a big green book. He spent nearly two hours over his book and writing without understanding of what he saw before him.
After that he took off his baseball cap and uncovered his bald spot.

3. Draw the mouse grave in the garden (March, 1985)

He said: “Never to return. Not a long distance.”
Roger had spent several days in bed, but he emerged that morning with a long foolscap paper in his hand and a twinkle of enjoyment in his sober green eyes. He got up.
He began to draw the smudge. The smudge was in the beautiful garden. The girl glanced at him, but made no sign. Then Roger began to draw something else, hiding it with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her curiosity shortly began to manifest itself. He worked on, apparently lifeless. The girl made a sort of vague attempt to see, but Roger did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it"
A special secret in the garden is what custodian called the “mouse grave”. Roger partly uncovered a dismal skit of mouse grave looked like two modest pinnacles carpeted with flowers innumerable, shaded by noble trees joyful with the notes of a multitude of singing birds.
Besides the singing birds mentioned above, the ugly sparrow may be found in the deep bushes.
The picture was framed and placed at the backyard.

4. Daylight bothering (January, 1988)

Who's that knocking at the door? Our boys and girls didn't bother to go out to see old Syd. The teens knock at 10 homes per day. Brave girl mentioned that they didn't mean to bother anyone; they're just trying to help aged neighbours across the city.
Stefan, a journalist, has lived in Cambridge since sixties. Well, Stefan that one who was knocking at our door, to be absolutely precise, twice per week.
Someone shouted Pink someone shouted Floyd. Brave man shot down them all from his hand gun from second try. Police and manacles, questioning and jail.
Roger calmly looked at this through his window. Though he is a very private person by nature, he is not a recluse. “But why, Syd? Oh, sorry, Roger.” - “It's very quiet and I like that - I'm a bit of a recluse at heart. That’s all. Why not? What if I all at once would go off there for daylight bothering?”

5. Improve the flowering shrub (November, 1990)

Roger told to bat to piss off and let him get some sleep, but she persisted until he finally gave in. "Okay, follow me" he said and flapped out of the room with bat behind him. Down through a valley they went, across a river and into a garden of their house. "Now, do you see that giant shrub over there?" he asked. “We’ll improve it to unrecognizability”
Many other gardeners prune shrubs to remove old or dead branches, to improve the shape of the shrub, to rejuvenate old growth or even to encourage flowering. Pruning may improve health and vigour and is generally carried out in mid to late spring, with flowering shrubs pruned after flowering.
But Roger did that all in some inversely way. He needed to demonstrate that he also may do sculptures.
Roger utilized ten branches or twenty from a shrub. The gauge on scissors is set for paper or fabric, not for flower stems, but he knew he could do it better. Largest scissors is preferred for close-cut precision. Scissors was naughty and has jumped out from his hands. Roger made a sculpture from a shrub likewise a big plum growing underground. Roots to branches, branches to roots, all mixed up.
When quiet winter came our heartfelt Roger was so far from reality…

6. Said he buried her in the pictures of shapes (September, 1991)

What a funny joke, his mom has died.
He lived a seconds before in his shapes on his pictures but should he go outside and see?
He remembered the days when sky was bluer. And then he remembered the days when his mom called him sweetly for breakfast and allowed him to spend time in the dark cellar with his friends. Cherries on inflatable plate and books, books, pictures, plastic pillows are going now to hell. Everything he knew before. The sky that turned to black now is pressing at him stronger than earlier. He wanted to die again and now. Sweet, sweet home please leave him alone.
He never returned to past. He never remembered all he forgot. But now how could he leave it outside? Back to London? Back to glory years? Certainly not.
Lone and old bearded man in dark brown coat preferred to sit alone.
Roger couldn’t see through tears. He said to someone who was near he wants to be blind as he is now.
Not a long distance. Touch and throw it away. Everything he created before will burn in bonfire who never seen. Touch and throw everything. Just give a hand.
He came over and silently looked at her. Like small black roses.
They buried her and held a small family ceremony. Roger came back at Christmas and left about half of the clothes and stuff he had taken. He said he wants to start a new life.
If someone told you that he was cured completely please do not believe him, he is lying.
There was only a half-way before she passed away and now at this point it is a finish that closed down to the harsh acid glut.

7. Get rid of that sack and everything else (December, 1991)

Going upstairs and downstairs, get rid of that sack and everything else, which lost in his rooms. Papers and drawings should be copied shortly and better. At present it should be certainly burnt. Then it will come for print but now it is for bonfire. Going upstairs, trying to find all his diaries since his rock’n’roll years. Transparent rounds with tapes and songs that will nobody listen are going to hell. Black rounds of his voicing stuff are going to hell. Electronic toys straight from Japan are also going to hell. Going downstairs and catching cats and rats for the big holy bonfire in the beautiful garden. Mix everything else together well; add petrol if it is dry, or dry material if it is soggy. One thousand four hundred sixty eight pictures in family album are also going to hell. Look at this, little black hardback with his poetry. Look at this, missed episode from Doctor Who. Look here, missed tapes from Abbey Road. He need to get rid of that piece of junk and buy a car or bicycle as a minimum, they can finance it for him. They would just take it out of his paycheck.

8. Troubles with TV tuning (October, 1994)

This manual was recommended as training material for TV-tuning skill.
Click-click, click-click. Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click.
Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click. Click-click, click-click.
Click-click, click-click. Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click.
Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click. Click-click, click-click.
It seems that the TV is having trouble finding the sub-channels.
TV and videotape recorder all in good condition (Cambridge, price: £40, call Roger, tel.: 6523…). Wake up in the night and watching TV till dawn. They are calling him into bright crystal house.

9. Do yourself a marvellous stool (May, 1998)

He found it hard to get to sleep, that night. He reproached himself. There were the long shelves of books with empty pages. “The history of art”, the big work is going so slowly. He even thought that his medical bulletin filled faster than his own book.
What also kept him awake was a rhythmic sound coming from the house next door, where a holiday dance was in progress. Music was so recognizable. There were tunes he probably heard earlier in his youth.
He finally got up and looked out through the window into deep night. Stray cat was in search of places he never discovered.
He got a saw and sawn off the legs of the table. The table has been sawn half-and-half. From this the marvellous stool was built.
The case has turned into a superb bedside-table under the globe. The amazing lamp has been made of the rests of three legs. Probably it was necessary to attach the hinge to each detail.
First it should be disassemble. Screws laid separately, nails laid separately, shavings laid separately. Basically it’s possible to build the airplane from all these details.
But music still sounded from the house next door. Whether or not, it sounded in his head. God… Whether it’s possible, Emily?
What they’re the silly people! Where did they get such lumber?
And as a result the cabinet on six legs, to be exact and honest has been constructed.

10. One-stop shopping (August, 2001)

Roger liked the motion, and was just beginning to wonder whether he would develop wings. All day and all night shopping was his new spend.
One-stop convenience stores sell a variety of basic food and grocery items as well as newspapers, magazines, household products, toiletries, greeting cards. In such shops Roger got a question. What if he has broken some glass? Should he pay for this?
He used to be heard frequently in his back garden, below his window, a serenading boy, David. He took him once for shopping. David suggested buying him a bike but Roger denied.
Next time he appeared in Ely at Cloisters Antiques, opposite the Lamb Hotel, where he bought antique blotter. He lost it in nearby supermarket. Someone said that David found it and became rich and now living in Los Angeles in own house.
And the next time it was The Lighthouse Bookshop where he found 1950s-packaged Tiddly Winks. Times went by.

11. Cycling around (February, 2004)

Please sir jot down a book about your life. We want to know whatever happened to you after kick out from London. Why did you escape?
Now on Wednesday Roger has a gap from 8 am until 4 pm between shopping and interviews for press. So he went riding around the city and popped into a few shops. After that he wanted to explore parts of Cambridge that he hasn't seen before. Going faster, faster, faster...
Roger was a well-known figure, cycling in Cambridge and along the country.
Cambridge is an ideal city for cycling. Narrow roads and pavements, designated cycle paths, cycle lanes and traffic lights for cyclists. Going faster, slowly, faster...
This day Roger has reached for Grantchester. He turned right onto the road down to the Blue Ball pub. He rode on High Street until to the Red Lion pub. And then he lost his way. Shortly he rushed out near the Byron's Pool when his front basket dropped down. Twenty miles he cycled through hills and woods. Chain case has broken after last two miles immediately he appeared at rails. Going slowly, slowly, slowly...
A long train moved from one point to another through his sssswway… No, this part doesn’t look completed. Reminiscent of everything he did.
He thought this will never finish.

12. Missed Episode (July, 2006)

Follow place in h been under t soap, entered into h at the counter the old man types his purchases into the fifty-year-old push button machine and slumped and he is looking h gaze the led her trough a main gallery, upper c a flight of stairs come started after him. Suddenly Roger shiuted, moving in behind h cloth him wood. The fire was the colour of gal writhed out of blackened ground and ted paper on the counter to the tax. Roger realized that nd pulled them quickly back, feeling a sharp the corridors and I d on humped. Around fugitively, like he is smoking his first ciggy. Taking a large breath and pulling back his shoulders played Roger pursed his lips and w blinding. She bit her lip to bleed and scrambled to rid herself of t stone she? All noel de her and magi at sending bits of heat into its orange core they caught on t e. Painting flames twist her he scalding. She focused on the nearest target the clothes in her hands. They fla mself between Roger and thrown. Return to main ennui fiery page where life starts to roll by.


And the last episode is a mess... i made it with cut-up...
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Fri Mar 28, 2008 2:45 am

"Perplexed Infinity"...

This is about person who doesn't want to live parallel to his own time and tries to find another way, just like not to live in his own time, out of time, somewhere in time, and I just called it "infinity" and maybe this word is wrong here.

So "infinity" as the "thing in itself" wants to understand what this person doing. And it's finally perplexes while understanding.
This is what I meant.

BTW my English is too poor to express my thoughts...
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Tony Farg » Fri Mar 28, 2008 9:38 am

Blimey. That's a big job, and my wife wants to use the computer all day to write another half-chapter of her book.
Her target to finish the final chapter is Sunday, then we're going away for a few days so that she can do a final edit and review on a lap-top whilst I drive a barge along a canal.
When we come home, if she isn't using this beast for a few hours I may be able to look at it, (which, by the way, I would like to do) so maybe you'll see something from me during April. No promises.
Meanwhile, I'm sure there are people reading this who are much better qualified than I am, who may be prepared to have a go.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by gdwdwrkr » Fri Mar 28, 2008 9:43 am

...infinity is just more of the same, a clothesline; eternity the air.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Wed Apr 30, 2008 12:57 pm

Could anyone help me with this (read above)?
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by gdwdwrkr » Wed Apr 30, 2008 1:25 pm

Stanislav, what do you refer to as "this"? If it is the post just above yours, I can certainly explain. If "this" refers to your last large post, certainly someone with loads of time can help.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Wed Apr 30, 2008 4:10 pm

gdwdwrkr wrote:Stanislav, what do you refer to as "this"? If it is the post just above yours, I can certainly explain. If "this" refers to your last large post, certainly someone with loads of time can help.

Well, Tony helped me very much with my preprepreprevious post, thanks him.

Please someone who love English, some kind of English grammar purists, help me at last with this to show me my awful mistakes in the following text:
Slow train is homing
~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was on Tuesday and the night train from King's Cross rolled to Cambridge through the raw white fog. Lone and old bearded man in dark brown coat preferred to sit alone. All the way through the trip, he looked out from the window to see the lands he never discovered. He preferred to sit alone but he didn’t manage to this.
The rest of the way he travelled with the man sitting diagonally to him who tried to read newspapers. Eventually he has informed that no new news he has found there. He sat calmly. Periodically he pulled his baseball cap on eyes and slumbered He said he had been suffering from weird and wonderful disease fifty miles before. A doctor is called to examine him in his hotel room in London. Few gapers also took some part in the examination. They all take particular interest in the sore on his belly.
He introduced himself as Roger. It was really nice to meet him. Roger Barrett, a pop-artist. He said: “Never to return. Not a long distance.” He said he was thinking that it was time he drove over to see his own new house.
Two blonde girls stared at him few moments and then disappeared in the crimson haze.
Seemed there was only one other train from London that night and the chances were it would be completely disappeared into the fog. Slow train is homing so long time at the boundless Cambridge platform. The man who sat diagonally said that it was just big serotonin fluids. He said also he was going to be a doctor one day and knows all that very well. By the way he never interested in the excited views outside the window. No such interest in the lands he never discovered.
With trembling hands he had threw newspapers into the big aged bag and had gone outside the hissing coach. He knew he moved towards the spanking new ages.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Wed Apr 30, 2008 4:18 pm

And also I want to ask for all about my texts I put here:

When you read this does something irritate you at the first sight?
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Stanislav » Wed Apr 30, 2008 4:20 pm

You possibly can say that it's all hogwash... yes, I agree, but I mean words, phrases, does it look like person very far from English wrote this?
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Re: Far further than you could possibly imagine

Post by Tony Farg » Wed Apr 30, 2008 4:42 pm

Yes, it looks like a person very far from English wrote it.
Here are some changes.
One sentence makes no sense...maybe you meant that?
"Slow train was homing for such a long time at the boundless Cambridge platform". I've made a small change, but it still makes no sense.
Just haven't had time to consider reviewing your earlier text. Sorry!


Slow train is homing
~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was on a Tuesday and the night train from King's Cross rolled to Cambridge through the raw white fog. An old bearded man in a dark brown coat preferred to sit alone. All the way through the trip, he looked out of the window to see the lands he had never discovered. He preferred to sit alone but he didn’t manage to.
The rest of the way he travelled with a man sitting diagonally across from him who tried to read newspapers. Eventually he discpvered that he had found no new news. He sat calmly. Periodically he pulled his baseball cap over his eyes and slumbered He said he had been suffering from a weird and wonderful disease fifty miles before. A doctor was called to examine him in his hotel room in London. A few gapers also took part in the examination. They all took particular interest in the sore on his belly.
He introduced himself as Roger. It was really nice to meet him. Roger Barrett, a pop-artist. He said: “Never to return. Not a long distance.” He said he was thinking that it was time he drove over to see his own new house.
Two blonde girls stared at him few moments and then disappeared in the crimson haze.
It seemed there was only one other train from London that night and the chances were it would completely disappear into the fog. Slow train was homing for such a long time at the boundless Cambridge platform. The man who sat diagonally across said that it was just excess serotonin fluids. He said also he was going to be a doctor one day and knew all about it very well. He never showed interest in the exciting views outside the window. No interest in the lands he had never discovered.
With trembling hands he threw the newspapers into a big old bag and went outside the hissing coach. He knew he moved towards the spanking new age.
ACCESS_POST_ACTIONS

Post Reply