/lit/ - Literature

>tfw ironic christian neolemurian carrying the heart of Kierkegaard on a sword across different planes of reality, falling into all kinds of black holes and vortices
Is Don Quixote the original time-traveller?

>>8191620
God have mercy on the collective autism of society if it does

It wouldn't be long until it becomes a capital offence to walk in any other fashion than straight lines and 90 degree turns

We'd lose all sense of spiritualism but replace the despot of an all-knowing god for the despot of a know-it-all dawkins and turn his writings into irrefutable dogma - 'god is dead! long live anti-god!'

as the proliferation of fleshlights and high-definition VR porn goes into overdrive, the blue-pinkish flicker of a semi nude woman on a screen becomes enough to make our shrivelled dicks spurt off in our favourite spiderman undies. who needs real females now?

Eventually, the repressive gazes of the whiteknight beta - who won't actually fuck chicks, just treat them like mantlepiece ornaments - becomes so psychologically distressing to women all across the world it induces a barren womb, rendering the entire human race incapable of procreation.

But that's okay, allegedly - our stem overlords have been freezing their own sperm for years now. the women are artificially inseminated with autistic DNA and the fate of the human race is sealed as a socially incompetent, culturally stunted, emotionally retarded waste of natural resources.

Swinging a gradual arm across the canvas, the shore settles itself into a fixed clarity of marine impotence. Should've used a darker palette for the sea really, looks like the sky is invading through the horizon. Maybe just a few touches of foam to patch it up? A little white, a little blended grey in the shade of the arches... And there, a tyrannical surging way out at the fringe of the bay. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I suppose storms are rarely intentional. This one at least is a safe distance away– so why am I hearing so much thunder?

No, wait– it's just Papa's careless footsteps climbing the spiral staircase. There's no question that he drank himself into a raging tempest last night. Missed the real violence of the bay by enacting it on me instead. Hopefully he's hungover enough to leave me alone for the time being, mornings are rarely his strong suit (or at least one of his less turbulent moments) and I know how guilty he gets seeing the bruises. His conscience pushes him even further into the bottle and then he forgets why he ever felt bad in the first place. Best to keep out of his w–

“Addy, if you'd care to take a pause from all this serene contemplation”, his arm arcing in mock veneration at the surface of the water beyond the window, “It wouldn't be too much trouble for you to wander into town for breakfast?”
I paused as the momentum of his trailing hand caught the door and clouted it against the steel bookshelf. You could hear the echo carried to the very bottom of the stairs, collapsing under the weight of its own intrusiveness step by rusted step.
“But it's the middle of the day.”
“Precisely, and seeing as our fast has remained unbroken since last night, it would seem a perfectly appropriate time for feasting, no?”
“Where do I have to go?”
“Where are we going, my dear boy; the walk and fresh air will do me good”, winking through a bloodshot eye as he began drawing tobacco and rolling papers from his breast pocket. He span round sharply with the careless vigour of a younger man, grazing his shoulder against the doorframe as he left. “We leave in five minutes, and I expect no tardiness!”. Papa isn't usually so erratic at this time. And he certainly isn't one for spontaneous gestures, unless of course you count the aggressive swing of an open palm. I slipped my toes into a brown pair of weathered boots, and dared to linger a gaze through the window on a fishing boat until it passed over the horizon and disappeared out of reach.

>>6439490
Deleuze and Guttari's A thousand Plateaus

>mfw I have transcended dialectical thinking and begun to think outwardly, from the middle, in all and every possible direction and intersection