/lit/ - Literature

Io venni in luogo d'ogni luce muto;
The stench of wet coal, politicians
. . . . . . . . . . e and. . . . . n, their wrists bound to
their ankles,
Standing bare bum,
Faces smeared on their rumps,
wide eye on flat buttock,
Bush hanging for beard,
Addressing crowds through their arse-holes,
Addressing the multitudes in the ooze,
newts, water-slugs, water-maggots,
And with them. . . . . . . r,
a scrupulously clean table-napkin
Tucked under his penis,
and. . . . . . . . . . . m
Who disliked colioquial language,
stiff-starched, but soiled, collars
circumscribing his legs,
The pimply and hairy skin
pushing over the collar's edge,
Profiteers drinking blood sweetened with sh-t,
And behind them. . . . . . f and the financiers
lashing them with steel wires.

And the betrayers of language
. . . . . . n and the press gang
And those who had lied for hire;
the perverts, the perverters of language,
the perverts, who have set money-lust
Before the pleasures of the senses;

howling, as of a hen-yard in a printing-house,
the clatter of presses,
the blowing of dry dust and stray paper,
fretor, sweat, the stench of stale oranges,
dung, last cess-pool of the universe,
mysterium, acid of sulphur,
the pusillanimous, raging;
plunging jewels in mud,
and howling to find them unstained;
sadic mothers driving their daughters to bed with decrepitude,
sows eating their litters,
and here the placard ΕΙΚΩΝ ΓΗΣ,
and here: THE PERSONNEL CHANGES,

You know, we always wonder what the modern equivalent is of Paris in the days of the Lost Generation. But couldn't we create something like that? Those of us who are artists, I mean.

After all, while Paris was a great city and had some good reasons to become the home of a bunch of writers and poets with little money and large ambitions, it wasn't inherently a haven for artists until Joyce, Hemingway, etc. all relocated there. The Lost Generation made Paris what we read about it being.

Couldn't a certain number of writers and artists today find another city that's like what Paris was back then, and all decide to move there? Maybe we could create an artistic community. We could move some of what we do here on /lit/ into the real world, and form lasting bonds of friendship and camaraderie while we create great art.

Everybody who shitposts about /lit/ being the equivalent of bumming around Paris in the days of the Lost Generation is unironically correct. Where else, online or offline, are we going to find such a large collection of people who love reading and writing as much as we do? We're all we've got, friends. Until this website shuts down, this is the place to be.

Would a thread about writers actually trying to make it be a good idea?

I think about the Lost Generation, about Hemingway and Joyce and Eliot bumming around Paris, and wish I had that level of fellowship with other writers. It would be nice to talk to people who weren't dilettantes about writing, but who also wanted to rise a little higher than thrillers and YA, which is the case with my city's local writing group.

Is there a chatroom of people like what I'm looking for, somewhere?

Do you have an agent, /lit/?

Have you ever tried to get one?

Would anyone like to share work via email?

As much as /lit/ is trash I have gotten some good feedback in the critique threads. The trouble is that if you put your writing up on 4chan, you can't get it published. I know this isn't a problem for some people; however, I would actually like to get my stories and poems published, so I've found I can't use the critique threads the way I used to.

What if some of us formed an email ring and sent our stuff to each other? It would be a little like how the Lost Generation mailed all their things to each other. None of us are that good, of course, but we could have the same camaraderie.

Of course I realize that people are even less willing to put their email addresses on 4chan. Maybe we can work around that by starting a chat or a common Google document.

you have 5 seconds to name everyone in this picture

I'm an atheist. I don't want to be, and I've read many books about religion, both for and against, and also the Bible itself. Someone recommend a book that will make me believe in God.

My main issue is with the concept of "faith" and that it's basically the catchall "pass" in Christianity; that the authority of the Bible comes from itself and you're supposed to believe in its authority and accuracy based on faith alone.

Hi /lit/ :). I would just like to say that I have read Joyce and I don't understand the hype, I mean his books are enjoyable and insightful (apart from Finnegans Wake which I just couldn't read), but I do not recognise the genius which you claim him to be. Could you kindly educate me if I am in fact mistaken. Thanks in advance guys.

This crew. Post WW1 European modernists.
(Sure, you could call em lost generation if you want to, if you spell it all crazy)