Joca

Divno...

"Toliko je prijatna stvar ziveti bez razuma da se ljudi vise mole za oslobodjenje od svega drugog samo ne od Ludosti." (nr) Erazmo Roterdamski, Pohvala ludosti ..konza

Ej, ajde javi valja li cemu? An Elegy On the Death of A Mad Dog Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there lived a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes And in that town a dog was found: As many dogs there be-- Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. This dog and man at first were friends; But, when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad, and bit the man. Around from all the neighbouring streets The wondering neighbours ran; And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man. The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die But soon a wonder came to light, That show'd the rogues they lied-- The man recover'd of the bite; The dog it was that died.

evo ovde imas prvih pet knjiga Alvina Mejkera: http://www.greylib.align.ru/libfan.htm a ako nadjem pricu koja je, u stvari, pravi pocetak serijala, javljam

Ima jos 'nekoliko' nastavaka (jos 3 zvanicna, plus price, plus ender's shadow.. ) Inace, nastavci su, naravno, sve losiji i losiji.. Probaj Alvin Maker od OSC-a, mozda bi ti se svidelo prvih par knjiga iz serijala link: http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/c/orson-...card/index.html

Den Simons - Ilion

:respekt: baš sam računao koliko bi mi trebalo da iščitam kompletnu Kingovu bibliografiju.. verovatno oko 4-5 meseci kontinualnog rada sr Pomračenje, Dž. Banvil

Bogami - ovo ce da potraje.. nr Pomračenje, Džon Banvil

Ja to sve odstampao, pa sad lepo "na tenane" (sto rekose u jednom fanzinu) proucavam.. a jel se nekom svidja ovo mozda: http://www.robertmccammon.com/fiction/eat-me.html

"Reading Barry Yourgrau is addictive, like putting peanuts in your nose and they turn into spaceships or something." širimo sektu evo još jedne: http://alas.matf.bg.ac.yu/~af02107/ht.rtf

Barry Yourgrau - A Man Jumps Out of An Airplane (ssc) i Wearing Dad's Head (ssc) download: http://alas.matf.bg.ac.yu/~af02107/amjooaa.rar http://alas.matf.bg.ac.yu/~af02107/wdh.rtf

za FanteTa i za Barkera )

vrh! btw - dobro su zamislili ovaj sajt Sajma knjiga, ali im realizacija zamisljenog bas ne ide izgleda

Proradio sajt sajma @veronika - nr Sevkusic, Principi efikasne komunikacije u nastavi

eh, imam tri zbirke takvih nenormalnih prica od istog lika, al problem je sto o5 moras da blejis u monitor.. a stampac ne upraznjavas? bdk.. Picnic I drive with my parents for a picnic. We stop by a cliff. My father tells me to bring out the picnic basket. The wind lifts the lapel of his jacket. He looks at my mother wildly. He gives a hoarse, trembling moan. He clutches fumbling at her hand. My mother cries out and gapes at him as if stricken. Hand in hand the two of them clamber hurriedly out of the car and lumber towards the cliff and, screaming and shrieking, jump off. There is the brief, diminishing sound of their screams; then abruptly, nothing. I stand by the car, staring at the edge of the cliff. The wind flutters in my ears. After a while, I fearfully approach the cliff edge, and crouching timidly on my knees, I peer over it. My parents lie near each other on the rocks, like rag doll replicas of themselves. Their clasp has come undone. The waves splash over their shoes, up over their legs and hips. I crawl backwards several feet, and then rise. Back at the car there is a note pinned to the picnic basket. I look at it, but it means nothing to me, as I'm not old enough to read cursive script. I poke somberly through the contents of the picnic basket, most of which is beyond my taste. I open a bottle of pickled onions and sniff it with displeasure and put it aside. I find three slices of cake. I eat one and part of a second, and half of a pear, which I chew sitting in the open back seat of the car. Then for a while I just sit without moving, with the car blanket over my knees as I gaze at the cliff, listening to the sound of the waves coming in and the rustle of the wind. At length, slowly, the light begins to fade around me. I climb down stiffly out of the car. I stand beside it. After a long pause of hesitation, I turn, and start off back down the dirt road by which we'd come -- slowly at first, then with gradually rising haste, until my tottering steps are scrambling along through the evening's gathering shadows.