/lit/ - Literature

So Bertrand but Reddit?

Where do I start with this madlad?

Mmmmmmmweed

I know I am spoonfeeding someone who apparently has nothing to add to the already crowded with midwits /lit/ 2020 and OP's question together with your commomplace "no gf" pic makes me feel like you percieve woman as cum-sockets essentially due a lack of sexual experience. But here we go:

Kawabata's works in general, specially Thousand cranes, house of sleeping beauties and snow country.

They are short books, and I am almost sure you can read at least one of them.Refrain from posting again, let alone open a thread.

.

>mmmmmm I'm a librul now mmmm
>vote for joe biden

>

mmmmmmmmmmm

Writefag here. The hardest part of writing is differentiating characters and their egos. It’s much easier in voice acting than on paper.

Everyday, every step closer towards my end, I find my chest constricted with emotion, my insides neglected and my life without meaning. This fluttering of a rainbow of emotions, from guilt to self-hatred for action and inaction alike, is sheathed within the confines of a broken and unkept machine. That beaten pile of flesh that drives forth a tonnage of lost dreams and memories is starting to dwindle even further than its previous states of decay. Although I am unkept, I still am able to feed myself, although not to my own pleasure. I upkeep this machine, although to my dismay, only for the immediate benefit of my family. I stand now, regrettably, pressed on the low fence enveloping my front porch. Across the gravel laid path of my family’s yard is a sea of meadows, ending only in a great wall of fences surrounding our property, decorated with rows of wire and razor to prevent intruders. Abrasive signs of rust warn any intruders of their immediate demise by gunfire or attack dog if anyone were to step foot in the property. These signs, as threatening in appearance, were only half true. The dogs my father threatened potential intruders with had died years ago, many to exhaustion from my father’s strict regiment, his attempt for their metamorphosis from hounds into killing machines. The other claim of a blaze of hellfire from my father’s obtuse collection of firearms, however, still held painfully true. My father is a man of great paranoia. His machine is beaten too, not in a disgust for itself such as mine, but physically. Years of intense, grueling labor for an over indulgent Mr. Harrington, and his landlord, the Duke of Westshire, had shown in every dent in my father’s machine. A protracted, arched spine carrying guilt and years of tonnes of enslavement had now marched out onto the patio. Unusually fast, as well, considering the seven locks that imprison us. Those locks, of course, were only at the front door, and did not include the locks of the screen door held behind it, bolted into the pillars of wood that held its frame into our white stained prairie house.
“Oi, Maggie, you’re up’a quite early aye? What’s it, about noon now?”
“Father, my waking far after you has nothing to do with my productivity. I extend my time for manuscripts far into the night. But I cannot work on an empty stomach. Is supper soon?”
“Oi, Maggie, I’ve found it a bit hard to bring in big game with this slant in me back. I can handle the rifle, don’t you go sayin’ otherwise, but haulin’ the game’s killin’ me, Maggie.”

>mmmmmmuhanarcho-syndicalismmmmmm

>mmmmmvotebidenmmmm

>*ahem*

>incidentally, not a controversial idea, on the other hand quite common sense, and i think you'd find most people in agreement with that, which i can cite later if necessary.

>wasted my time reading fiction again instead of finishing that book on philosophy
We've all felt it before. How often do you have this feel?

>>15065504
you shouldn't; especially fiction. Don't read fiction, it's sad.

who are your role models /lit/?

For me, it's Noam.

>>15022215
>Why are you reading literotica shit? That just feels like you’re purposely fishing out of the worst pond.
Because I was helping out an anon's rewriting the first chapter of her book, and then she posted the whole chapter and I realized that she was doing a quasi-autobiographical work of her being raped by daddy. She posted this herself >>15021760

>She asks him out on a date so that she can stay away from her parents.
This is what happens when she gets back to her daddy at home.

When Noam Chomsky dies who will be the greatest living intellectual?

Ted K?