conejo coffe, a little coffee shoppe off of hill crest. Thats where all the hip kids go with their double shot macciatos or skinny caramel lattes. They talk about how glum this little town is and how they desperately want to leeave
Daria
the place where the bennys come and use our beach in the best surfing time of the year… :( i could have totally thought of something better than that. or could I? its what i thought of isn’t it?
Brandon Louhier
Local is something that is close to you. If something is local, that means that you can reach it without much difficulty. Erm, that’s just about it.
Patricia
something that is near you as in a location or person that might be a regaler in the same place. local stores or family members are the kind of local nouns.
Taylor
Where everyone i know is at. Friends. Family. Enemies. Crushes. Horror stories that Will beet go away. The place i want To leave but at the same Time want To Stay in forever.
Alyssa
The local train station was a quiet place. There were only a few people that got off around my town and as a result, it was almost always dead. I didn’t mind sitting there with a book for a few hours, but today the place had a different air about it. The train let off its horn and slid into its station. A man stepped off with a warm smile and blue eyes.
Near home, a place where you feel home and safe. A place where you can find things without too much work. Peaceful , lovely, and quite and excepting.
Haben B. Voorhies
the bar
and the lights all mixed into one
but i see him and i hate him for the fact
that there is no one else i can see in all the lights
but we all wear a million faces
in a crowd of lights
and we don’t know where we are going
but we are made of starstuff
from the highest, farthest places
it’s a shame that we are local.
madeline minardi
to support local seems to be the next logical step in my life. I feel that globalization overall will cause more harm than good. To be able to purchase goods for less does not seem worth it in the long run. Local to me is supporting my community, supporting people that I see, and I like the idea that I will be able to play a tangible role in their lives.
Muave
Looking back now, I see the hostile glares. I remember the evil tone creeping into the voices of the locals. I remember how every inn turned me away. But silly me thought it was because of the holidays. The nerve of some people! I don’t know why it was that they hated me so. To this day I stare at them and wonder,”What did I do? What did I do to make you hate me?” Slowly, I recollect all the events. I’m still missing pieces of the puzzle. The pieces I have are a kind, old woman inviting me inside; the lights turning off and me falling fast asleep; the shriek of someone quite frighten; a sole candle accompanied by the glimmer of a knife and darkness. I remember cold darkness. Then the darkness seeps away and warmth floods my every sense. What I know and am most certain of is; I WAS MURDERED.
Local was the food that I ate. Local was the newspaper rolled like a scepter in my hands. Without my mother’s car to transport me out of this dull college town, I was forced to buy everything locally. And it’s not like local is necessarily a bad thing. it’s just that every day I saw the same faces, the same dull, dreary, weary bodies circulating through a shadowy “life” here. I absolutely hated it.
Local food is better than no local food. A local friend is. Enter than a long-distance friend. Local means close, and that makes it more personal.
Amy Alderson
In town ne’er your house business farmers market omg I love the country local tastes good maple
Grace
Radishes. Lettuce. Chocolate. I’m at the smoothie booth, mixing yogurt with honey and blueberries, but this is what’s around me. The Sunday market is loud and bubbly and lovely.
Grace
The local coffee shop was running very low on sales. Their were cobwebs in the corners, the counter was covered in dust, and due to low income repairs were unable to be made. The owners of the shop were becoming very worried. One day the hostess was dusting the shop when a man walked in and ordered a latte and a scone. The hostess took his order and took it back to the cook. She walked back to the counter and made poliet conversation with the man. When his order was ready she went to retrieve his food and she noticed he was writing on a notepad. She gave him his scone. He took a bite and wrote more.
“I hate to ask,” she said, “but what is that you’re writing?”
“I am a critic,” he smiled. “And I will be giving this place high marks in tomorrow’s newspaper.”
Kirstein
I’m a local of green trees
Rain that washes away the grime on the blood stained streets
Blood that transforms to roses
A local of coffee shops and street performers
Wildflowers and free spirits
History and character
Katheryne
shops
grocer
fruit
supermarket
people
village
locale
map
carrot
green
car
low calorie
low call
ja sdf
Local coffee shop. Normal routine. Every single day. Same place. Same time. No one here ever bothers to ask my name even if they have memorized my order.
The trafic had been absurd as of late. The once quiet town of Neitherbottom had been changing drastically and Jean wasn’t quite sure as to why. Mysterys weren’t common in Jean’s hometown and a bit of an oddity
Tom Wexler
I live at local market. There are a lot of local markets in my city but i live at this one because of the special treasure that lies in the depths of the crowded place. Gold.
Jessica
I went to the local club to have a night with my friends. when i bumped into you. my sprite ran down my long legs when my cup fell out of my hands getting my shorts wet and sticky. as i was about to tell you off, i looked and saw you. i mean got a good look. there you were looking at me. “oh, gee i am REALLY sorry.” he apologized. it’s ok i think i’ll live i replied. hey he called back, listen i will get you another one of those and um get you some new clothes. it’s cool, really. i holler back. yet he still follows me. at least let me take you home, he says, wait up! and of course i take the offer… who wouldn’t?
Instead of staking out the local chop shop he could be out with Gina, or Lola. Oh yeah Lola. He popped the lid off his coffee and tossed it onto the dash with the rest of the nights’ collection. Maybe this one wouldn’t taste like used oil. After seven hours of crap coffee and no action, he watched the sleek sedan pull up to the garage door. The detective took a tentative sip and sighed as a big man stepped out of the car and straightened his coat. He regretfully tossed the first decent cup of java all night out the window and flipped on the flashing lights at least his wasn’t the only date to get ruined tonight.
This Saturday was Small Business Saturday. It’s where you support local small business by visiting them and trying to only buy from small business to support the local economy. Even President Barack Obama participated.
I’m a local in my own hometown. As soon as I leave, I cease to be a local and become an outsider, a foreigner, an alien. I no longer belong. There is familiarity in locals. The same faces down at the coffee shop, day in and day out. Always the same, the locals.
Ryan
The local bus stopped outside my apartment, like it does every Saturday morning. I peered out my window with a skeptical look, not trusting it for one minute. Unlike those common folk, who trust a bus, a bus driver, taxis, the like so willingly and without thought, I knew the truth. The horrid, disgusting truth about our everyday life and the people who live it. It was all a lie, but it seems no one saw it. It fooled everyone, giving them a feeling of comfort and calm, when really everything was cold and chaos. Don’t they know what goes on, day after day, night after night? They were all so daft, so thick in their heads and never using what their mother’s gave them. It was a darned waste, it was.
Codi
Locals everywhere. Small lopsided knitted hats and thick blocky glasses that may or not have a prescription attatched to them. Hugging jeans that show knobby ankles and shoes that look like they were stolen from Navajo children.
Local is the produce I eat, it’s the people I hang out with and the things I do every day. Local is the clothing I try to buy, when I end up at boutiques instead. I know local is good. But I don’t know the difference between local and organic. But I do know that local with an e, takes me to Italy.
nina
local is your neighbor coughing and borrowing eggs. And you watching next doors TV through the window.
steinunn
i like to play ball. i like pizza. i like playing coolmath. i like spongebob. i like fun brain. i like logic. i like poptropica. my favorite school is sutter middle school. my favorite teacher is ms. torres.
treesa
Not making express stops. It’s going to be a long slow ride home. Turn on the ipod, open the novel, enjoy the journey without experiencing it. Maybe I’ll see a friendly face or 2. Maybe not.
Jonathan J
It was nothing special. We just went to the local diner to get some cheap food. But that was where it happened. It was when I realized what he meant to me.
I was at the local shop one day when I saw an elephant broswing through the cough medicine isle humming along to his own life music. I walked over to him while staring at him coursity as he picked up his trunk and grabbed a medicine box.
mikayla
I was at the local shop one day when I saw an elephant broswing through the cough medicine isle humming along to his own life music. I walked over to him while staring at him coursity as he picked up his trunk and grabbed a medicine box.
mikayla
the local pub, where regulars come for their usual. everyone knows everyone, and nothing ever changes. its the same old-same old, and the locals like that. security. knowing.
Local markets in town always made me feel happy. Whether I’m in my hometown or out for college, I always seem to be drawn to places with fresh produce. People share there livelihoods and each item sold has a story: the blood, sweat, and tears of many.
I’m so sick of where my life is going. I feel like I’m just shooting in the dark and I have no idea what in doing. My parents don’t care. My teachers don’t care. I’m so unhappy all the time. I’m angry all the time. I can’t be happy no matter how hard I try. I keep thinking its just a phase but I can’t snap out of it. I just keep looking for something to bring meaning to my life but yet I can’t find a single thing. I think I need help. Or a therapist.
conejo coffe, a little coffee shoppe off of hill crest. Thats where all the hip kids go with their double shot macciatos or skinny caramel lattes. They talk about how glum this little town is and how they desperately want to leeave
the place where the bennys come and use our beach in the best surfing time of the year… :( i could have totally thought of something better than that. or could I? its what i thought of isn’t it?
Local is something that is close to you. If something is local, that means that you can reach it without much difficulty. Erm, that’s just about it.
something that is near you as in a location or person that might be a regaler in the same place. local stores or family members are the kind of local nouns.
Where everyone i know is at. Friends. Family. Enemies. Crushes. Horror stories that Will beet go away. The place i want To leave but at the same Time want To Stay in forever.
The local train station was a quiet place. There were only a few people that got off around my town and as a result, it was almost always dead. I didn’t mind sitting there with a book for a few hours, but today the place had a different air about it. The train let off its horn and slid into its station. A man stepped off with a warm smile and blue eyes.
Near home, a place where you feel home and safe. A place where you can find things without too much work. Peaceful , lovely, and quite and excepting.
the bar
and the lights all mixed into one
but i see him and i hate him for the fact
that there is no one else i can see in all the lights
but we all wear a million faces
in a crowd of lights
and we don’t know where we are going
but we are made of starstuff
from the highest, farthest places
it’s a shame that we are local.
to support local seems to be the next logical step in my life. I feel that globalization overall will cause more harm than good. To be able to purchase goods for less does not seem worth it in the long run. Local to me is supporting my community, supporting people that I see, and I like the idea that I will be able to play a tangible role in their lives.
Looking back now, I see the hostile glares. I remember the evil tone creeping into the voices of the locals. I remember how every inn turned me away. But silly me thought it was because of the holidays. The nerve of some people! I don’t know why it was that they hated me so. To this day I stare at them and wonder,”What did I do? What did I do to make you hate me?” Slowly, I recollect all the events. I’m still missing pieces of the puzzle. The pieces I have are a kind, old woman inviting me inside; the lights turning off and me falling fast asleep; the shriek of someone quite frighten; a sole candle accompanied by the glimmer of a knife and darkness. I remember cold darkness. Then the darkness seeps away and warmth floods my every sense. What I know and am most certain of is; I WAS MURDERED.
Local was the food that I ate. Local was the newspaper rolled like a scepter in my hands. Without my mother’s car to transport me out of this dull college town, I was forced to buy everything locally. And it’s not like local is necessarily a bad thing. it’s just that every day I saw the same faces, the same dull, dreary, weary bodies circulating through a shadowy “life” here. I absolutely hated it.
“Think global, act local”
In order to make a change you should start making a change locally. A real change should start……
he sits at the counter
three seats to the left of the window
and when he walks to the door
the whole place sighs goodbye
to the local
the regular
Local food is better than no local food. A local friend is. Enter than a long-distance friend. Local means close, and that makes it more personal.
In town ne’er your house business farmers market omg I love the country local tastes good maple
Radishes. Lettuce. Chocolate. I’m at the smoothie booth, mixing yogurt with honey and blueberries, but this is what’s around me. The Sunday market is loud and bubbly and lovely.
The local coffee shop was running very low on sales. Their were cobwebs in the corners, the counter was covered in dust, and due to low income repairs were unable to be made. The owners of the shop were becoming very worried. One day the hostess was dusting the shop when a man walked in and ordered a latte and a scone. The hostess took his order and took it back to the cook. She walked back to the counter and made poliet conversation with the man. When his order was ready she went to retrieve his food and she noticed he was writing on a notepad. She gave him his scone. He took a bite and wrote more.
“I hate to ask,” she said, “but what is that you’re writing?”
“I am a critic,” he smiled. “And I will be giving this place high marks in tomorrow’s newspaper.”
I’m a local of green trees
Rain that washes away the grime on the blood stained streets
Blood that transforms to roses
A local of coffee shops and street performers
Wildflowers and free spirits
History and character
shops
grocer
fruit
supermarket
people
village
locale
map
carrot
green
car
low calorie
low call
Local coffee shop. Normal routine. Every single day. Same place. Same time. No one here ever bothers to ask my name even if they have memorized my order.
The trafic had been absurd as of late. The once quiet town of Neitherbottom had been changing drastically and Jean wasn’t quite sure as to why. Mysterys weren’t common in Jean’s hometown and a bit of an oddity
I live at local market. There are a lot of local markets in my city but i live at this one because of the special treasure that lies in the depths of the crowded place. Gold.
I went to the local club to have a night with my friends. when i bumped into you. my sprite ran down my long legs when my cup fell out of my hands getting my shorts wet and sticky. as i was about to tell you off, i looked and saw you. i mean got a good look. there you were looking at me. “oh, gee i am REALLY sorry.” he apologized. it’s ok i think i’ll live i replied. hey he called back, listen i will get you another one of those and um get you some new clothes. it’s cool, really. i holler back. yet he still follows me. at least let me take you home, he says, wait up! and of course i take the offer… who wouldn’t?
Instead of staking out the local chop shop he could be out with Gina, or Lola. Oh yeah Lola. He popped the lid off his coffee and tossed it onto the dash with the rest of the nights’ collection. Maybe this one wouldn’t taste like used oil. After seven hours of crap coffee and no action, he watched the sleek sedan pull up to the garage door. The detective took a tentative sip and sighed as a big man stepped out of the car and straightened his coat. He regretfully tossed the first decent cup of java all night out the window and flipped on the flashing lights at least his wasn’t the only date to get ruined tonight.
This Saturday was Small Business Saturday. It’s where you support local small business by visiting them and trying to only buy from small business to support the local economy. Even President Barack Obama participated.
I’m a local in my own hometown. As soon as I leave, I cease to be a local and become an outsider, a foreigner, an alien. I no longer belong. There is familiarity in locals. The same faces down at the coffee shop, day in and day out. Always the same, the locals.
The local bus stopped outside my apartment, like it does every Saturday morning. I peered out my window with a skeptical look, not trusting it for one minute. Unlike those common folk, who trust a bus, a bus driver, taxis, the like so willingly and without thought, I knew the truth. The horrid, disgusting truth about our everyday life and the people who live it. It was all a lie, but it seems no one saw it. It fooled everyone, giving them a feeling of comfort and calm, when really everything was cold and chaos. Don’t they know what goes on, day after day, night after night? They were all so daft, so thick in their heads and never using what their mother’s gave them. It was a darned waste, it was.
Locals everywhere. Small lopsided knitted hats and thick blocky glasses that may or not have a prescription attatched to them. Hugging jeans that show knobby ankles and shoes that look like they were stolen from Navajo children.
Local is the produce I eat, it’s the people I hang out with and the things I do every day. Local is the clothing I try to buy, when I end up at boutiques instead. I know local is good. But I don’t know the difference between local and organic. But I do know that local with an e, takes me to Italy.
local is your neighbor coughing and borrowing eggs. And you watching next doors TV through the window.
i like to play ball. i like pizza. i like playing coolmath. i like spongebob. i like fun brain. i like logic. i like poptropica. my favorite school is sutter middle school. my favorite teacher is ms. torres.
Not making express stops. It’s going to be a long slow ride home. Turn on the ipod, open the novel, enjoy the journey without experiencing it. Maybe I’ll see a friendly face or 2. Maybe not.
It was nothing special. We just went to the local diner to get some cheap food. But that was where it happened. It was when I realized what he meant to me.
I was at the local shop one day when I saw an elephant broswing through the cough medicine isle humming along to his own life music. I walked over to him while staring at him coursity as he picked up his trunk and grabbed a medicine box.
I was at the local shop one day when I saw an elephant broswing through the cough medicine isle humming along to his own life music. I walked over to him while staring at him coursity as he picked up his trunk and grabbed a medicine box.
the local pub, where regulars come for their usual. everyone knows everyone, and nothing ever changes. its the same old-same old, and the locals like that. security. knowing.
meu local favorito
é onde eu encontro abrigo
e esse local
é o seu sorriso
Local markets in town always made me feel happy. Whether I’m in my hometown or out for college, I always seem to be drawn to places with fresh produce. People share there livelihoods and each item sold has a story: the blood, sweat, and tears of many.
here
now, everywhere, common, freash, community
I’m so sick of where my life is going. I feel like I’m just shooting in the dark and I have no idea what in doing. My parents don’t care. My teachers don’t care. I’m so unhappy all the time. I’m angry all the time. I can’t be happy no matter how hard I try. I keep thinking its just a phase but I can’t snap out of it. I just keep looking for something to bring meaning to my life but yet I can’t find a single thing. I think I need help. Or a therapist.