/lit/ - Literature

>>21355592
It's the dead of night again.
Before I turned on my PC I peered at my face in the reflection of my window, dimly lit by the Christmas tree I hadn't even put away since last year.
I try not to look at myself too often, but at the end of the day I feel like I need to inspect myself sometimes.
I suppose I'm trying to reassure myself that I'm still a human.
Yeah, it's all still there. Eyes, jawline, full head of hair. By all metrics I pass that specific Turing test.

I've been doing this for a decade now.
I don't think I look so different, although people tell me otherwise.
"You look tired. Everything alright?"
"Yes, it's the fatigue." I say. Same bullshit answer as always. I just need to get through this life like wagies get through the week.
Although I assume it's a sentiment that they share on that scale as well.
It's the state of the world nowadays.

So what's different tonight?
What brings me here instead of anywhere else I'd rather be at this hour on any given day: in my bed muttering the same things to myself in my mind's eye,
hoping that wallowing in that self-pity might make some sense of the world around me?
Frankly I can't tell.
I haven't written anything worthwhile in over 4 years and it used to be my saving grace.
I have hundreds of pages of awful poetry and unfinished essays on anything from economics to amateur psychology, and while I remember feeling as if I truly tapped into something I could revisit again later,
when I felt the same kind of awful all over again, I can't see any value in most of it.

I suppose I just had to get something off my chest.
Not in the sense that I need to avert some existential crisis.
It used to be that way, but now I mostly feel nothing at all. The cobwebs around my stash of pens are testament to that.
In some perverse twist of meta-consciousness this actually saddens me more than why I didn't write in the first place.
It's not about being happy, really. I don't think I care much to be happy.
I suppose I just want to be useful. To have done something.

When my mother died last May I wrote a few pages for the ceremony.
I wanted to meander my way around the reality at first. I didn't want it to feel as hopeless as I did.
"I should hide how I feel." I thought. "It's not right to show myself."
The idea that I should crack a joke left me as soon as I knew what it meant to me.
She had a miserable life devoid of comedy in all but the darkest sense, but one can only carry that for so long before the splinter of humor dissipates and it all becomes a cruel joke without a punchline.

I could have done worse.
I like to think she would have liked it.
Of course I didn't talk about how I found her on the kitchen floor, eyes set to infinity and already going cold.
I didn't talk about how I broke her sternum pressing into her already dead heart to the command of that paramedic on the other end of the phone.
"One, two three - and one, two, three."
His rhythm wasn't very consistent.

Looking for some books with major diner/bar/Hong Kong diner scenes, preferably random conversations or something alike

>>7279552
Humans are not a closed system, they need food and energy to live. If NEETs would be cut off from their stolen money they would have to find a job, or they would very quickly starve and die. That is all there is to it. They are thieves. They live off stolen property of people more productive than them. Objectively they are parasites and subhuman trash.

>conman
This is not volountary transaction, conman is living of making false promises, he is a thief. Just like a NEET.

>Necessity is completely relative.
yeah. so what? Skills that neet has right now might be valuable 1000 years from now, so what? He is still worthless now.

>Why not exactly? (machines)
Short answer: Because second law of thermodynamics. Its a topic for a fucking book, im not gonna discuss it anymore. It makes no difference to this discussion. THERE WILL NEVER BE POST-SCARCITY

>How is he malignant to the system if he's capable of mantaining his quality of life by parents, welfare, or whatever other means, without being a hidrance to anybody?

He is a hidrance, because he lives off property of other people that wasn't given to them volountarily. Thats why welfare needs to be abolished so those people just die off.

everything else:
>bah bah just numbers, money is social convention, resources don't exist, being a loser and living off accomplishments of my parents and other people is nothing to be ashamed about. everything is subjective. Neets are not sad fucks, they are actually happy free people even thou they will starve the second that the government will disable welfare or their parents will get tired of keeping them alive. B-b-being a tapeworm is true freedom dude.

You don't know what money is, you don't know how economy works. You are jumping to conclusions about consumerism and spewing leftist rhetoric. Humans need food and shelter to survive and there is nothing you can do about that. And to get food and shelter you either hunt, gather and build on your own. Or you get employed and buy it from people that do it instead of you.
NEET is a thief and a moocher. He exploits the system until system will get tired of him. You can play around with fake concepts all you want but those are objective facts of reality.

Your narrative is bullshit. You paint a picture of neet as if he was an individual that lives the life that he chooses. I have a friend that spend most of his time watching anime at home, but he lived on his own expense. He actually dives into trash bins to get food, and works 3-4 days a month to pay rent. That i can respect and understand, since he can pay for himself. But anyone who sucks on welfare money is scum and will die when day of the rope comes. Thief is always a thief.

So /lit/ what is your writing process like if you use a PC was text editor do you use.


Do you smoke, drink.

Listen to music Music, if you do does it have lyrics

why do we like rhythm?