/lit/ - Literature

>>18939746
>Why can't I look outside and see god
This is an invincible argument

>This has been a presentation from the Library of Congress in Washington D.C.

>why yes, I imagine Aristotle as having been an actual moving and talking marble statue irl
>why yes, I imagine Hume as having been a moving oil painting irl
>why yes, I imagine Kierkegaard as having looked like an unfinished sketch irl
>why yes, I imagine Guénon as having been a sepia-colored man irl

>Deus sive natura

What does /lit/ think of this excerpt from a drama of mine?

CHORUS of ERINYES:

You celebrate no man, but a thief:
The Sinner saw her in flight, cutting through men spread out among the shore,
saw the torches alight in the camp of his Fiend;
He saw his companion disfigured by long agony,
Limbs battle-strewn and boiled in the hot blaze of the sun —
On account of beauty was such suffering unleashed;
see what great pain sings of its rage in stolen love!
Long thereafter we heard her cry out (…)
„Remember your girl, worn away by worry,
— Pray singe us no further the hot irons of delay.
Or be your love for me consumed by contempt of long life,
As I’ve been forced to live without you, force me to die!
Forced I am all the same: see my form and colour vanish.
The sole hope that feeds my soul lies in you.
If in this I fail, I entrust myself to the flame —
So come! See to my death: tis’ ignoble to force her to die.
Come now! Plunge your hot iron into my body,
That the blood may issue forth from grievous wounds.“
She embraced the shell from which his soul had fled,
with a furious hand flogged her wan face —
Then out streamed a wreath of hot tears:
What tears are heavier than those of a captive?
And both weep,
Both captives of the selfsame man!
Such captors we all vex and damn to ruin,
Set to rout among the fowl of Tityos
To assume the fruitless labour of Sinners.

/lit/, let's translate Ulysses into ebonics. I'll start.

>Fly, thicc nigga Buck Mulligan slid down dem stairs holdin' a bowl of de shaving crem dat had a shiny glass and Bic up innit. His gold robe all wild and shiet twerked all crazy 'round the coo' mornin' air. He raized de bowl and done said: "I be goin' to de altar of Jah."

For the first time I'm with a girl who I love and I don't have to be plastered for her to be appealing enough for sex. Every now and then when I'm with her in public, I space out and stare at objects in a fit of catatonic mania, since none of it yet feels real and sometimes I disassociate from reality and want to immediately run into a dark forest and gorge down a pallet of mead. /lit/ for this feel? Preferably poetry.

>>16888247
basiert

>>16780209
1. Tyrtaios
2. Sotades
3. Bion

>>16139440
>earth is a week old bro

>>15657467
>Why, yes, I only read poetry and fiction. How could you tell?

>>15526161
>why yes I do want to be a hundredth the size of a millimeter and have a giant Jewish woman laugh at and bully me, knowing where I am but only able to see me with a microscope, just breathing her mood air on me or just laughing hysterically with her mouth directly in front of me.

Why yes, I do own and have read Leo Tolstoys complete works
How did you know?

After some careful reflection, tempered by some quiet reading, I have come to the conclusion that art is objective. What is the measure of this objectivity, you say? The measure of the objectivity is the degree to which the art is pleasing to superior consciousnesses such as myself. I believe I have ascended nearly to the level of The Superior Consciousness, at least as high as any human can get without becoming a god, so I am qualified to give objective decrees on the quality of all art. Let us focus on literature here, since investigation of the special often makes the general easier to understand, and this is a literature board after all.

Literature is judged by aesthetic, moral, emotional, intellectual, and philosophical excellence; all of this can be grouped under 'aesthetic excellence'. Those with a keen aesthetic sensibility will understand, and be able to make judgements on, whether a piece of literature contains aesthetic excellence, and to what degree it does. Those without it will not. The discrepancy in our opinions does not prove the impossibility of an objective judgement any more than the discrepancy in opinion between a blind man and a seeing man on the height of an object proves the impossibility of objective height-measurement. One man is simply unable to see the height of this particular object, while the other can. The blind man should defer to the seeing man on matters involving vision, yet this rarely happens with art.
'But how does the superior consciousness know that he has a keen aesthetic sensibility? Why is his taste any better than my own?' This is akin to asking How does the seeing man know he sees? By seeing. Does the man born blind know what seeing is, does he even know he lacks the ability to see without someone telling him? No. Those who possess the faculty of aesthetic appraisal are seeing men. How do they know they are seeing men? Because they see it. Those who do not see it are blind. Those who are blind and do not realise they are blind never had the faculty of sight in the first place.
Another mistake people make is to assume that, because categories such as 'intellectual, philosophical, aesthetic, emotional, etc. excellence' are predicated upon a certain type of human consciousness (and only an elite group of humans such as myself possess this consciousness), art must be subjective. But this is false. Many other categories (length, weight, etc.) are depended upon consciousness, but are objective. 'But we can all agree on how big something is!' Can we? Did you ask the woodlouse or the mite how big the log they live on is? To them it is not 4 feet as it is to you. To them it is the entire world. Why? Because they have a different type of consciousness to you.
So just as the log remains four feet long despite not appearing so to creatures with inferior consciousnesses, good art remains good art and bad art remains bad art despite not appearing so, again, to inferior consciousnesses.

>>14713543
Yes, between the hours of 5pm and 8pm; your mother.