(16:34:34) (myscreenname): i had another idea for a story
(16:35:24) (myscreenname): this women is found dead apparently assassinated, but she was a nobody, so the cops couldn't figure out who did it
(16:36:33) (myscreenname): when the family is clearing out her house they find this old calender notebook that is full of colored lines, apparently dictating beginnings and endings of things, but there is no key to tell what the colors mean
(16:37:09) (myscreenname): there is only one word written, but they can't read it. they can only conclude that it isn't the womens handwriting
(16:37:57) (myscreenname): well long story short, it turns out that the notebook belonged to a guy who was basically the deus ex machina of ideas.
(16:38:35) (myscreenname): and the guy had been supplying all these major companies with new ideas, but had died and the women somehow found the notebook in the trash, or in the house that she bought, or something
(16:39:03) (myscreenname): well the companies were afraid that the women would find out their secret, so they had her killed
(16:39:35) (myscreenname): and then i got out of the shower and my brain changed what i was thinking about
(16:47:12) (myscreenname): i guess that story would explain why everything is a copy of a copy and there are no new ideas (you know stereotypically)
Sunday, April 1, 2007
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