/lit/ - Literature

I only ever used to write either stoned on cannabis or drunk. I tried writing on heroin once but I just fell asleep. Now I've been clean for almost a year and I write hardly anything. I want some amphetamines.

>>1611965
Got any of it saved somewhere?

no because im not a drug addicted faggot

Yeah, I texted a girl that I wanted to fuck while belligerently inebriated.
Later that week, we did.
pic related

In all seriousness, I have written drunk before, but I don't have any of my writings; they were all on paper, and they're long gone.

I feel too embarrassed to write a first draft of anything that isn't an academic paper without the hubristic state brought on by alcohol + caffeine

An interviewer once asked Hemingway if he wrote while drinking. Hem responded, "I'm an alcoholic, not an idiot."

>>1612007

MAYBE THAT IS WHY HIS WORKS ARE GARBAGE.

I wrote this while high once.
My life was empty until I saw your warm, sleek body walk past me. At first, I didn’t think twice, but as I shot that second glance back, I knew I found the one. I watched you, I followed you, I examined you for weeks. Most of the time, you didn’t notice me. I blended in and you had other things on your mind. It wasn’t until the sidewalk was empty, and the night was in full bloom did you send the glances back. You were almost slightly anxious. I don’t blame you. It was dark, you were alone. You didn’t see me, but you felt something. Exactly what you felt, you didn’t know.

The days got shorter, the nights got longer. You began to lose sleep over me, and believe me, I’m not someone to lose sleep over. The nights spent crying in fear of something you don’t even know existed. You succumbed to me, you are mine now. We are perfect together.

If you listen for me, I make no sounds.

And if you look for me, you will not find me.

>>1611968

This is some old stuff. I have a couple hundred pages of work, all streaming stuff like this, 70% written fucked up.

Why am I the way I am. Why must I panic all the time, I knoiw some people sya I was built for this. Fuck them. Fuck them. I was built to suffer? Fuck them, I think I was made to feel to live to suck up what I can from this world with a smile. So why can't I have that? I guess i'm broken. It happens. People break, I know it. I could go to a ward if I liked, be treated, I don't know how. Electro-shock therepy, enemas, I don't know, I don't want to go there anyway. Nurses. Doctors. Cold words. I can't take that shit its too fucking much. I just want to lie at home, stoned, and oh, if only I could have a pretty girl beside me in bed, just in her underwear, lying beside me, smoking joints and drinking with me, fucking constantly or else talking, reading, watching movies. That would be heaven for me. An eternity of that doesn't sound too bad. Instead i've got one life, who knows how short, and no pretty, half-naked girl beside me. I smoke weed and drink all day, doing nothing I am a waste of all existence. I am the great interstellar dump. I am the mistake from outer space. The regret from a parallel dimension, the hypocrisy from a worm hole, the loneliness bleeding through a stitch in time. I'm the grea amalgamted mistake of the universe. Come see me be useless.
I just sort of wait and hope the answers fall from my head. I've never been one full of common sense, I will say that much, I can go about things in strange ways, but to me of course, its so logical! Ah well, these are the nuances that make me me I guess, perhaps these are the same things that stop me getting any good pussy? Any pussy at all, I would say. It does me a great deal of harm.

>>1612062 cont...

Come, we will go for coffee on the beach it will be wonderful. Trudging. To the beach. Coffee. Expensive. Dull waitress, vacant eyes, cheap gold earings, cheap, no smiles. Bad coffee. Weak, expensivfe. The wind was harsh and cold. My coffee was too hot to drink. The wind blocked my hearing, I had to nod and pretend, I was waiting to drink my coffee, it was till too hot. I llooked at her eyes, nodding, yes, listening, no, thinking about how beautiful she was and how interesting a spirit she had, I fi could actually hear her I would probably be interested. She is a beautiful girl. I know she would be a wild fuck too. She has hinted at things before, sending sparks flying in mky head, I still have, she likes it rough. I would very much like to give it to her rough. And then the gentle kiss when we climax together will be all the more perfect for the screaming and the insults and the beatings.
I enjoy her company, the sun seems to favour her, shines her all up like a coin on a beach, her every expression, wonderful and entrancing.
Not every fucking thought is worth the ink y'know?
DUCK AND COVER! DUCK AND COVER!
Shames flying in. Or a cold witch to point out all your wrong doings. Make sure to walk in a straight line and count your steps she is watching you, always.
They all did drugs and felt like they had pissed themselves, becoming very self-concious. It would seem the drugs brings some aspect of their character to the fore.
AAAGGGHHHHH!
Hey, I'm Nicola Berryby. And I'm Chris Arkleton. How do you do, have you got a room. I'd like to fuck.

>>1612065

A little bit more, not in sequence with the rest (not that it has any real order or logic)

Old man. Black cane. Black coat. Black hat. Hard white lines in his face. A pipe cracdfked on the floor. Old man, lying broken on the floor, why couldnt life prop you up? Have you learnt nothing in your years? You seem to have gone back in time old man, your crawling like a baby on the floor, fed through a tube, you can't do anyhting for yourself old man. You burden us, the young, the powerful, the fresh water, wer'e washing yo awy old man. Rock out cock out. Love me please, don't leave this dirty mattress on the floor, ignore the fleas and me, ignore me, just ignore me while I kiss you softly, let me dream. Lie down, lie dowwn and hold my hand. You don' t know how long i've waited! It's been so long, I need your touch! Your embrrace! Seagulls, busy busy, noisy noisy, like a stupid city man on lunch break. Busy busy noisy noisy. Proud and noisy. I like pigeons, come pigeons, come beg for my scraps, dirty little fucks, tatty feathers, where they gnawed and chewed and bit and other birds ripped and savaged and chewed until it was rough and unfit to move throught he air as well as they do. They are odd but they fly. I am odd but I can't fly. I only sink lower and lower. I forget what the earth is like. Up here in outer space, sitting in a tin can, listening to the sex pistols and masturbating into a vacuum. Wishing I was on earth getting laid, a slow blowjob, feeling up some girl, drunk out of my mind. Never seeing her again. Rover. Explorer. Man of a mind of a passion of birds.

the best thing about my drunk writing notebook is how my repressed autogynephiliac fantasies always find a way of creeping in around the edges. haha my life

>>1612083
I have pretty much the exact same thing. We should fuck.

I pissed myself once just for the hell of it.

bumping for drugs