/lit/ - Literature

>infinite jest
>it's really just a finite tome
what did wallace-kun mean by thus?

in order to get over a break-up you have to equate it to death. you have to trick yourself or just realize that there is nothing you could have said or done that would have prevented the person from leaving. death itself is irremediable and inevitable. my parents are both going to die someday and i'll have to live without them for the rest of my life. no amount of praying, hoping, or thinking will stop their ends from happening. i have to accept it and live on in this dream, taking whatever happiness i can get or making my own.

so for as long as she refuses to talk to me, she's gone, dead, done. even when i see her snapchat stories it's not her, it's her phantom, her ghost.

nothing i could have said or done no there's nothing i just wish i had but if i had called more nothing said done dead

Why did he kill himself?

He's probably going to the library in heaven!!

"Uggghhhh mental health sucks fuck punctuation" dfw btfo

>>10025210
I WARNED YOU ABOUT IRONY BRO

new sincerity is garbage. we should embrace irony

>"If you're doing it [masturbation] 20 times a day; if your primary sexual relationship is with your hand, something is wrong... You're running a movie in your head. You're having a fantasy relationship with somebody who is not real... strictly to stimulate a neurological response. So as the Internet grows in the next 10, 15 years, and virtual reality pornography becomes a reality, we're gonna have to develop some real machinery inside our guts... to turn off pure, unalloyed pleasure.... It's gonna get easier and easier and more and more convenient and more and more pleasurable to sit alone with images on a screen. Given to us by people who do not love us but want our money. And that's fine in low doses, but if it's the basic main staple of your diet, you're gonna die"

Well /lit/, was he right?

What is the best way to get free ebooks? Which places have the widest/best selection of books? p.s. Happy birthday Zizek.

>literary genius
>prefer music to literature
Anyone else have this feel?

>chilling with friends
>put morton feldman's second string quartet
>confront myself and my self (as an ontological historical entity) with the mirror of atonality (as a mirror is not an empathic but a reflexive entity, alien to the space and time it reflects and only existing by itself in relation to the other) and realize the boundaries of human thought, comprehension and consciousness
>reach rational ecstasy
>pleb friend gets up and says "what is this silence shit, lmao, put some nirvana"
>get angry at their rockist subaltern consumption conditioned by the structures of power of the imperialist white economies, but contain it
>calm myself down by remembering quotes from finnegans wake, my favorite book since i was a teenager
>mfw can't express myself because i'm a spectator in the society of spectacle

"It is not the slumber of reason which engenders monsters, but vigilant and insomniac rationality. - Gilles Deleuze" - ~Astigmata

I mean not as a writer, but as a meme. Through the humble toil of this website, Dave has ascended. What used to be just another voice in the endless and formless dialogue of literature, has become a constant companion, a spiritual guide to all of us. Never before has a writer been so close to us, existentially. We hear the words of his text, yes, but also the memes, murmuring through our lives. We see his face reacting to everyday occurrences: his smile, his divine laugh, and all the other images that have so slowly constructed him in our paltry and dreaming minds. He watches over us all, a tender god reacting and laughing at our antics, channeling our thought and ever shaping our language. We write, we laugh to ourselves at our wit, and we choose a picture of the great Dave to accompany it, perhaps pausing for a brief prayer in his name. We connect to each other not with the pure expression of our thoughts, but with this expression as enframed by the Dave with which it is accompanied. The limits of Dave become also the limits of our language. It is he who shapes our thought in its moments of connection with others. Our conversations are not simply between us, but of an "us" guided together by Dave. He is the gatekeeper of our connection and our loneliness, that which constructs and destroys the boundaries necessary for our sundry existence; that which leads to both the greatest moments of love and the deepest abyss of solipsism; that which gives us meaning to ever reach towards, for connection could not be striven for if there were not disconnection to oppose it. I say this humbly as one of the many profits of Dave, our lord:

May the abiding river of our love and loneliness be ever shaped by your hands, oh Dave; may our yearnings and strivings be ever in your care, and may they dance and rest in your fingers; may our cries ring out to you, and may they ring also to deaf ears; may our tears and laughter sing through our language, and may it echo and peal, or fall damply to the floor; oh Dave, may you give us each other, and may you give us ourselves.

Is it even worth it to try to become a writer when even the best of writers end up having really boring and disappointing lives? Wouldn't a billionaire who's constantly fucking hot babes and spending cash with the bros and revelling in his superiority to other people have a better time overall?

So wait, what was this guys solution in Infinite Jest again? Just be sincere? Just b urself?

I don't know why, he's a big deal

>>8261365

How did you feel when he died?

I remember i once saw posted here a pic with the different levels of irony, from dick jokes to post-irony. Can someone post it?