/lit/ - Literature

>it's an Elayne chapter

Hey /lit,

I can't believe it myself, but yes, I've finally found something you could actually help me with. I'm doing an animation project on loneliness amongst men and I'm looking for literature in order to flesh out the point I'm trying to make.

When I say "Commodification Of Loneliness" I mean how men are preyed upon with pornography, constant bombardments of sexual advertisements, and maybe even Virtual Reality. I'm personally of the belief that pornography is bad for your mind and body. So, I believe that catering to this longing is nothing more than a selfish money-grubbing act of selfish, opportunistic greed profiting off of man's misery and loneliness that they themselves enhance. I know the sexual revolution of '60s is partly to blame, but again, enlighten me if you think you have another idea or a source.

I know I'm not being very clear. So I'll give you two abstract examples that very effectively conveyed this feeling for me:
?The themes touched on in Bladerunner 2049 with Joi
>Books by David Foster Walalce.

If there's anything that springs to mind, fiction or non-fiction, please share. Do you think media, in general, has gotten too perverse? Itching this basic, dum-dum monkey brain, need for pleasure? How much does lit suffer from this? Has it grown worse or better?

Thank you

>>19350226
One dude is enough, and you need to fight back whilst you're at it. I know the feeling, I have it as well. Every shifty-eyed stare I receive whilst traversing the streets, I hope it's a stare of utter bitterness and hatred and will result in my beating, but not with compliance. We're far too docile and weak, no wars to be fought, eternal peace makes men go insane, we want to fight, yet in vain, no fighting comes. It stems from a visceral longing to feel, it stems from sadness and numbness that we wish to conceal. We want to feel something in this ocean of nothingness, blasting lights and entertainment, laugh whilst you're at it. I want to crookedly smile at my colleagues as well, like in fight club, with teeth jagged, horrid smell, torn shirt, blood dripping, black-eyed, and as well, be vivid and pumping with blood as it swells. I feel alive.

>>19267924
I stopped drawing because everytime people watched me draw they said in such an insufferable unironic stupid "Wow is he actually ON DRUGS? He is doing all that fantasy magic stuff but in reality he is ON DRUGS OR OR OR OR SOME KID IN A COMA"
Sigh

I just want to be genuinely happy and lwt my work display that in resonant recognition. I hate this nihilism. I hate this knee jerk lack of observing no mindfulness cynical yet sheltered stupidity.

God fuck, I’m so lonely. I miss my home, I miss my parents.

I’m just a hamster on a wheel, the rat-race, the waging-slave, pigeon stuck in its coup, a debased modern husk of a human being ticking in and out, then ticking in again, sand, then ticking out, and in, and out. ANIMALS! (cockroaches)

I respect my mind and body, especially sexually! I’m not going to consciously be dragged into post-modern, hardcore, fetishised propaganda. I’m not a worm. “Democracy manifest!” Where the hell did I leave my cigarettes? We’re so confused, primitive, and cattle-like.

Cramped like anchovy, interconnected tubes, running underground. A to B, B to A. I hate touching its surfaces. Everything reeks, that smelly smell that smells. It stinks, God it reeks. For fucks sake. They wallow in it, I wallow in it. PIGS! Pig...

Every street corner needs to be filled with hedonistic bombardments of electronic pleasure. Flashing images, bursting with sound. OBEY! The slimmest detection of silence sends everyone into a frenzy, I notice it. We scatter. ANIMALS!

Step 1: Block out vision, no peripheral, concentrate a beam of pure energy directly into eyes, plug in your ears and by God, please don’t make eye contact, please don’t make any God damn fucking eye contact with me you filthy useless sack of shit, you swine, you’re in my way. I see you looking at me! Otherwise i’ll be reminded by the existence of another human being and I might have to grow sympathy. Eyes go too deep. WELLS!

I stare at them purposefully, secretly laughing, I like to make them uncomfortable, somehow I believe I can rip them out of their delusion. Somehow, maybe, I hope, that eventually someone will stare right back at me, straight into my soul, desert, don’t break eye-contact, a real connection, of course that never happens.

Everything’s filthy. GARBAGE! Everyone hates each other and tries to outdo the other, it’s all so artificial. Fake leather and that God awful sound it makes. I spit on the homeless. (I also spit at the mirror every time I see my reflection.)
”They smell of booze, what lowlifes, look at them, useless leaching parasites. Why don’t they just die, we’d be better off without them.” DON’T THINK LIKE THAT!

Then I get home and drink half a bottle of wine (the good stuff) out of sear boredom. “That’s a tasty beverage!” Numb those senses™, have a little shit giggle by myself, fart in the bathtub, do a little naked dance. “HAHA, I’m so funny”. Not because I’m drunk, but because I’ve allowed myself to actually express myself for a second.

“I CAN’T LET ANYONE KNOW, DOH! They must never know. I’d better set an alarm, go to bed early. I should keep up appearances.”
(1/3)

Tfw 27 now and the last 4 years of my life have been a total waste and now I constantly feel behind