/lit/ - Literature

What do you mean by gear?

I want to write something Kerouac-esqe, though I've never actually read him and before I read American Psycho I've been writing some combination of the two. I'm trying to step away from coming off like a sociopath and I think at this point I'm in an uncanny valley with my writing. The main form of working on my work is living my life, which I think I'm also in a kind of uncanny valley in
>fight
>woke up at a girl's house after a night at bars
>she has surprise surprise On The Road but I forget it in her car when I meant to borrow it
>smoke speed and drink with a friend
>get picked up by a girl I had groped on transit weeks earlier
>she buys beer, talk in her car, fuck her and lose my hard on because she's being over dramatic
I'm not living what I want to write about yet

Both literary and irl

I had been living in a halfway house after being hospitalized. There was nothing to do; tv didn't work; all black house filled with schizo's
I rread the GoT books, Steinbeck, and repeatedly read this breif book on a brief history hedge funds and I was working at the 99cent only store (read grocery store for poor people), I read the business section for fun etc, basically I was bored as fuck

I started traveling the 2 hour transit ride back to the area I was from and met this very pretty girl smoking meth with my friends (an activity we had recently picked up). Meth had kind of let me rediscover my confidence and social edge. Over the course of like a week I didnt go back, didn't go to work and spent the entire time with that girl smoking shit with this random motel hopping couple we met, this guy who didn't smoke and let me use him for his car and some other people. I got in 5 fights that week including an attempt at stealing this disgusting asshole tweaker's car (he made a scene as I was choking him in his parked car, honking etc so I stopped), got a blowjob from a random girl right after the attempted gta and I had this almost
t transcendental experience on a beach
I came back and wrote about it in my notebook. I had just read American Psycho and I was definitely channeling that while writing something a lot more visceral

I realized I have some serious urge ro drop everything I am doing with my life and pursue, through the drama etc, her. The sport of it; the visceral fast pace drunken drama filled adventure where anything, especially me being who I want to be is possible

I don't like it as much at all when we're good or when our communication is healthy. I like it where she's representative of an enchanting, intimidating mystery - and a slut, because that just brings the spice to it. The jealousy; my anger. I'm not complete without it and it more than anything is not the catalyst but the vehicle for my self destruction

I realized I have some serious urge ro drop everything I am doing with my life and pursue, through the drama etc, her. The sport of it; the visceral fast pace drunken drama filled adventure where anything, especially me being who I want to be is possible

I don't like it as much at all when we're good or when our communication is healthy. I like it where she's representative of an enchanting, intimidating mystery - and a slut, because that just brings the spice to it. The jealousy; my anger. I'm not complete without it and it more than anything is not the catalyst but the vehicle for my self destruction

I woke up on Saturday laying on a couch in front of a bed, I see some girl with a not so great body get out of bed wearing a thong, and check the bed to see if my friend is there. He is
I blacked out at a park the night before and came to as the bar was closing, my friend talking to the uglier of two girls, the prettier asks me how old I am. 23. She says I'm too young young in a way that kind of implies a lot about the girl (apparently she was walking around the bar asking people if they had a friend she could date, giving a long list of requirements), I guess she's twenty nine and I call her an old lady, she takes the bait and calls herself an old lady a few times. I search for something to follow up with and realize I'm too drunk
She eventually leaves as her friend calls an uber

After being kind of insulted by the girl's roommate, my friend drops me off at bart. I can't tell if I feel good or not, but I feel mildly attractive so that might as well be good. I meet up with another friend there, my best friend (relatively). We plan on heading to the city to meet a guy from soc and buy k from him. He isn't responding and by the time we get out there he still isn't. We go to a burgerking right out of the bart station, and as typical of fast food chains in this city, it's filled with homeless and scummy looking people. We get food and I buy meth from the first person I ask
After about an hour of looking for a place without any wind to smoke, smoking in a grocery store bathroom (burger king's wasn't in sercice) and deciding what to do, the guy finally responds. We walk to meet him. Do the drugs. And hang around a festival that was actually going on on the street of his appartment building
Most of his k ends up blowing off the roof of his building, and the day becomes forgettable once I get sober
Sunday night I meet up with a fat girl I had groped on bart the previous weekend. She buys beer and we hang out in her jeep fucking around, fucking and drinking the whole night

I can't tell if this weekend was any kind of success or not. The guy from soc seemed too happy and I think he's lying about how much money he makes, the lie implies a cognitive dissonance I'm finding is prevalent in so many people. I tried to describe this to my friend Saturday night but the years have made him stupid. I can't connect with anyone around me. I need to find someone else awake, or a good looking girl
I need more money

I read about Neal Cassady and Kerouac the other day and I realize I've lived and wrote similar, and I realized I want to continue to do so

Today I got drunk on the street, wound up at a transit station alone and groped a girl I sat next to, getting her number without saying anything to her

I'm trying to think about what I'm eventually going to write, the knowledge that people have actually done what I've unconsciously been doing before me, tells me I'll end up doing something different. The defining characteristics of my generation differ explicitly from the beat

I feel America.I love capitalism. I think this is an entrepreneurial era
The information-communication age breeds isolation
Not much is new, but I think there's a wealth to discover

I like what Ozymandias does in The Watchmen when he uses watching multiple tv's to take a pulse of the world, and I feel like mindless experience can really take you far