/lit/ - Literature

>>21408822

women like things that have become Things

women would suck their shit off your dick if they knew you were a Thing, but you are just a thing

bukowski is a Thing

bukowski is Bukowski

women would never fuck bukowski, or "a bukowski," but they'lI fuck Bukowski

women would never fuck a tiny jittery nervous clever jew with amazing wit and intelligence, but no boisterous alpha vehicle to convey it with, but they will fuck the shit out of Woody Allen, because Woody Allen is a THING

women are the worst pieces of shit you could possibly imagine. in the absence of Things to want to fuck, they will either look to men to define those things (via male-constructed hierarchies like academia, or via the male's capacity to actually appreciate art and greatness without having been told something is great beforehand), or even more grotesquely, they will look to other women

when women can't decide whether something is a Thing or not, they will just look to other women nearby, and as all the women look to each other, a harmonic resonance will be achieved, an endless buzzing stochastic fucking white noise of perceptionless nothingness, and then from within that endless jiggling universe of undifferentiated particles eventually you'll get some hydrogen, eventually you'll get clumps, and eventually women will intersubjectiveIy, collectively, and completely unconsciously which clumps of matter have the supermassive quasar cocks worth sucking

if you want to be great, search deep within yourself for greatness

if you want to fuck women, use sleight of hand to convince them that someone else already ratified you as great

a woman wouldn't be able to tell a george carIin from a fart joke, but they will orbit Dane Cook for eternity because the TV said he was a Thing

>But Trevor was six foot three. He was clean and fit and confident.
>this unironically got published