/lit/ - Literature

Finna use it in my next novel.

>>18351761
I'm finna tell wagwans to go back to /pol/

>>18351761
niggolingo is great if you want to type jokingly without sounding British.

Nope.

>>18351761
yo, ima finna eat some of dat kfc nigga

>>18351761
THEY'RE RUINING THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

>>18351761
Perhaps, but more than likely never.

>>18351761
Niggas be like I finna shoot yo ass

Society finna collapse now

Only if we can make finnaly an adverb.

Wardine finna cry.

Noone:
absolultely nonone
me: im finna end this niggas career

>>18351761
They probably think it's racist to use it if you're not black.

>>18352356
Lol

So it’s just “gonna” but black?

So many words and phrases being accepted now that they're 'black' but laughed at in the past when it was considered hick speak.

>>18353087
people are still laughing

>>18351761
>writing your shit in English in 2021
what about no?

maybe if i were writing dialog but not otherwise

I’m finna read Call of the Crocodile.

>>18353251
pero no onions bueno in otre idiomas :(

finna kms

>>18351761
Finna bust a nut

>>18351761
It's my favorite Joji song.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FowLDgIXGG0

>>18353251
我同意。

>>18352495
Yes

>>18351761
no because i am not a negro

>>18351761
it being aave for "fixing to" seems suspect to me. i don't think anyone in the upper classes says "fixing to" in modern english, let alone black americans. surely it's like a mistype of "gonna" with the keys being near each other in the same way "kek" was a mistype of "lel"? same outcome really but i don't think "fixing to" has anything to do with it

>>18353784
kek is a translation of lol in world of warcraft

>>18353800
oh shit true, im retarded

>>18353803
Nah you were largely correct. No one looks at kek and thinks of nerd shit games, everyone assumes it's from lel which makes it true because everyone believes it and nerds don't matter

Raise the roof! What whaaaaat! It's my birfday! Uh huh! Say whaaaaat?!

>>18353784
I disagree about it's connection to "gonna", unless you'd argue that it's a duplication. Remember
>I be finna bouta gonna
is a grammatically correct statement of aspect and intention in AAVE.

I definitely agree that it's probably not related to "fixing to", though.

>>18352368
That joke finna take off wit facebook, step to me or bounce niglet

Yes. First ironically and after some time without a second thought.

>>18351761
"vernacular" is such a crude word and fitting for "Afro Lingo"

>>18351761
If I wrote a nigger character then yes

>>18351761
as a tribute to my favorite joyce novel, finna genz wake

>>18351761
I'm finna cop some more Guenon books
pbuh my nigga

>>18354116
Underrated post

>>18351761
Language evolves with culture.

Edit: Thanks for the gold kind stranger!

Edit 2: Didn’t know this was going to blow up like this...RIP my inbox

>>18351761
Cultural appropriation. Finna riot.

Song of Myself
by Walt Whitman

1.
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.


I loafe and invite my Soul;
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.


Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with
perfumes;
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.


The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it
is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

>>18354893
2.
The smoke of my own breath;
Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine;
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood
and air through my lungs;
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore, and
dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn;
The sound of the belch’d words of my voice, words loos’d to the eddies
of the wind;
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms;
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag;
The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and
hill-sides;
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and
meeting the sun.


Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth
much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems;
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun—(there are millions of suns
left;)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the
eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books;
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me:
You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from yourself.

>>18354898
3.
I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the
end;
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.


There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now;
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.


Urge, and urge, and urge;
Always the procreant urge of the world.


Out of the dimness opposite equals advance—always substance and increase,
always sex;
Always a knit of identity—always distinction—always a breed of life.


To elaborate is no avail—learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is
so.


Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in
the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery, here we stand.


Clear and sweet is my Soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my Soul.


Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen, and receives proof in its turn.


Showing the best, and dividing it from the worst, age vexes age;
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am
silent, and go bathe and admire myself.


Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean;
Not an inch, nor a particle of an inch, is vile, and none shall be less familiar
than the rest.


I am satisfied—I see, dance, laugh, sing:
As the hugging and loving Bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and
withdraws at the peep of the day, with stealthy tread,
Leaving me baskets cover’d with white towels, swelling the house with their
plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization, and scream at my eyes,
That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
And forthwith cipher and show me a cent,
Exactly the contents of one, and exactly the contents of two, and which is
ahead?

>>18354904
4.
Trippers and askers surround me;
People I meet—the effect upon me of my early life, or the ward and city I
live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks, or of myself, or ill-doing, or loss or lack of
money, or depressions or exaltations;
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, the fitful
events;
These come to me days and nights, and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.


Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am;
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary;
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head, curious what will come next;
Both in and out of the game, and watching and wondering at it.


Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and
contenders;
I have no mockings or arguments—I witness and wait.

>>18354916
5.
I believe in you, my Soul—the other I am must not abase itself to you;
And you must not be abased to the other.


Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat;
Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the
best;
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.


I mind how once we lay, such a transparent summer morning;
How you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently turn’d over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my
bare-stript heart,
And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the
argument of the earth;
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own;
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters
and lovers;
And that a kelson of the creation is love;
And limitless are leaves, stiff or drooping in the fields;
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them;
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, and heap’d stones, elder, mullen and
poke-weed.

>>18351927
Said the American

>>18354926
6.
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is, any more than he.


I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer, designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and
remark, and say, Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.


Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic;
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white;
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the
same.


And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.


Tenderly will I use you, curling grass;
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men;
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people, and from women, and from offspring taken soon
out of their mothers’ laps;
And here you are the mothers’ laps.


This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers;
Darker than the colorless beards of old men;
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.


O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.


I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of
their laps.


What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death;
And if ever there was, it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to
arrest it,
And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.


All goes onward and outward—nothing collapses;
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

>>18354937
7.
Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her, it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.


I pass death with the dying, and birth with the new-wash’d babe, and am not
contain’d between my hat and boots;
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike, and every one good;
The earth good, and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.


I am not an earth, nor an adjunct of an earth;
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as
myself;
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.
)

Every kind for itself and its own—for me mine, male and female;
For me those that have been boys, and that love women;
For me the man that is proud, and feels how it stings to be slighted;
For me the sweet-heart and the old maid—for me mothers, and the mothers of
mothers;
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears;
For me children, and the begetters of children.


Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale, nor discarded;
I see through the broadcloth and gingham, whether or no;
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.

>>18354943
8.
The little one sleeps in its cradle;
I lift the gauze, and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my
hand.


The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill;
I peeringly view them from the top.


The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bed-room;
I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair—I note where the pistol has
fallen.


The blab of the pave, the tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the
promenaders;
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the
shod horses on the granite floor;
The snow-sleighs, the clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snowballs;
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous’d mobs;
The flap of the curtain’d litter, a sick man inside, borne to the hospital;
The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall;
The excited crowd, the policeman with his star, quickly working his passage to
the centre of the crowd;
The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes;
What groans of over-fed or half-starv’d who fall sun-struck, or in fits;
What exclamations of women taken suddenly, who hurry home and give birth to
babes;
What living and buried speech is always vibrating here—what howls
restrain’d by decorum;
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections
with convex lips;
I mind them or the show or resonance of them—I come, and I depart.

>>18354948
9.
The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready;
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon;
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged;
The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow.


I am there—I help—I came stretch’d atop of the load;
I felt its soft jolts—one leg reclined on the other;
I jump from the cross-beams, and seize the clover and timothy,
And roll head over heels, and tangle my hair full of wisps.

>>18354952
10.
Alone, far in the wilds and mountains, I hunt,
Wandering, amazed at my own lightness and glee;
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill’d game;
Falling asleep on the gather’d leaves, with my dog and gun by my side.


The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails—she cuts the sparkle and scud;
My eyes settle the land—I bend at her prow, or shout joyously from the
deck.


The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me;
I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots, and went and had a good time:
(You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
)

I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west—the bride
was a red girl;
Her father and his friends sat near, cross-legged and dumbly smoking—they
had moccasins to their feet, and large thick blankets hanging from their
shoulders;
On a bank lounged the trapper—he was drest mostly in skins—his
luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck—he held his bride by the hand;

She had long eyelashes—her head was bare—her coarse straight locks
descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d to her feet.


The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside;
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile;
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak,
And went where he sat on a log, and led him in and assured him,
And brought water, and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d
feet,
And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some coarse
clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass’d north;
(I had him sit next me at table—my fire-lock lean’d in the corner.
)

>>18354955
11.
Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore;
Twenty-eight young men, and all so friendly:
Twenty-eight years of womanly life, and all so lonesome.


She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank;
She hides, handsome and richly drest, aft the blinds of the window.


Which of the young men does she like the best?
Ah, the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.


Where are you off to, lady? for I see you;
You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.


Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather;
The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.


The beards of the young men glisten’d with wet, it ran from their long
hair:
Little streams pass’d all over their bodies.


An unseen hand also pass’d over their bodies;
It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.


The young men float on their backs—their white bellies bulge to the
sun—they do not ask who seizes fast to them;
They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch;
They do not think whom they souse with spray.

>>18354958
12.
The butcher-boy puts off his killing clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall
in the market;
I loiter, enjoying his repartee, and his shuffle and break-down.


Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil;
Each has his main-sledge—they are all out—(there is a great heat in
the fire.
)

From the cinder-strew’d threshold I follow their movements;
The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms;
Over-hand the hammers swing—over-hand so slow—over-hand so sure:
They do not hasten—each man hits in his place.

>>18354961
13.
The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses—the block swags
underneath on its tied-over chain;
The negro that drives the dray of the stone-yard—steady and tall he stands,
pois’d on one leg on the string-piece;
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast, and loosens over his hip-band;

His glance is calm and commanding—he tosses the slouch of his hat away from
his forehead;
The sun falls on his crispy hair and moustache—falls on the black of his
polish’d and perfect limbs.


I behold the picturesque giant, and love him—and I do not stop there;
I go with the team also.


In me the caresser of life wherever moving—backward as well as forward
slueing;
To niches aside and junior bending.


Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain, or halt in the leafy shade! what is that
you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.


My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck, on my distant and day-long ramble;

They rise together—they slowly circle around.


I believe in those wing’d purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet, and the tufted crown, intentional;
And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else;
And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me;
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

>>18354964
14.
The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night;
Ya-honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation;
(The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen close;
I find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.
)

The sharp-hoof’d moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the
chickadee, the prairie-dog,
The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,
The brood of the turkey-hen, and she with her half-spread wings;
I see in them and myself the same old law.


The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections;
They scorn the best I can do to relate them.


I am enamour’d of growing out-doors,
Of men that live among cattle, or taste of the ocean or woods,
Of the builders and steerers of ships, and the wielders of axes and mauls, and
the drivers of horses;
I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.


What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me;
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns;
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me;
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will;
Scattering it freely forever.

>>18354969
15(i).
The pure contralto sings in the organ loft;
The carpenter dresses his plank—the tongue of his foreplane whistles its
wild ascending lisp;
The married and unmarried children ride home to their Thanksgiving dinner;
The pilot seizes the king-pin—he heaves down with a strong arm;
The mate stands braced in the whale-boat—lance and harpoon are ready;
The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches;
The deacons are ordain’d with cross’d hands at the altar;
The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of the big wheel;
The farmer stops by the bars, as he walks on a First-day loafe, and looks at the
oats and rye;
The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum, a confirm’d case,
(He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his mother’s
bed-room;)
The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,
He turns his quid of tobacco, while his eyes blurr with the manuscript;
The malform’d limbs are tied to the surgeon’s table,
What is removed drops horribly in a pail;
The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand—the drunkard nods by the
bar-room stove;
The machinist rolls up his sleeves—the policeman travels his beat—the
gate-keeper marks who pass;
The young fellow drives the express-wagon—(I love him, though I do not know
him;)
The half-breed straps on his light boots to complete in the race;
The western turkey-shooting draws old and young—some lean on their rifles,
some sit on logs,
Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece;
The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the wharf or levee;
As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer views them from his
saddle;
The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for their partners, the
dancers bow to each other;
The youth lies awake in the cedar-roof’d garret, and harks to the musical
rain;
The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill the Huron;
The squaw, wrapt in her yellow-hemm’d cloth, is offering moccasins and
bead-bags for sale;
The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery with half-shut eyes bent
sideways;
As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat, the plank is thrown for the
shore-going passengers;
The young sister holds out the skein, while the elder sister winds it off in a
ball, and stops now and then for the knots;
The one-year wife is recovering and happy, having a week ago borne her first
child;

>>18354978
15(ii).
The clean-hair’d Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine, or in the
factory or mill;
The nine months’ gone is in the parturition chamber, her faintness and
pains are advancing;
The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer—the reporter’s lead
flies swiftly over the note-book—the sign-painter is lettering with red and
gold;
The canal boy trots on the tow-path—the book-keeper counts at his
desk—the shoemaker waxes his thread;
The conductor beats time for the band, and all the performers follow him;
The child is baptized—the convert is making his first professions;
The regatta is spread on the bay—the race is begun—how the white sails
sparkle!
The drover, watching his drove, sings out to them that would stray;
The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, (the purchaser higgling about the
odd cent;)
The camera and plate are prepared, the lady must sit for her daguerreotype;
The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock moves slowly;
The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open’d lips;
The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and pimpled
neck;
The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink to each other;

>>18354986
15(iii).
(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths, nor jeer you;)
The President, holding a cabinet council, is surrounded by the Great
Secretaries;
On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms;
The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold;
The Missourian crosses the plains, toting his wares and his cattle;
As the fare-collector goes through the train, he gives notice by the jingling of
loose change;
The floor-men are laying the floor—the tinners are tinning the
roof—the masons are calling for mortar;
In single file, each shouldering his hod, pass onward the laborers;
Seasons pursuing each other, the indescribable crowd is gather’d—it is
the Fourth of Seventh-month—(What salutes of cannon and small arms!)
Seasons pursuing each other, the plougher ploughs, the mower mows, and the
winter-grain falls in the ground;
Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the hole in the frozen
surface;
The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes deep with his
axe;
Flatboatmen make fast, towards dusk, near the cottonwood or pekan-trees;
Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river, or through those
drain’d by the Tennessee, or through those of the Arkansaw;
Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahoochee or Altamahaw;
Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and great-grandsons around
them;
In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappers after their
day’s sport;
The city sleeps, and the country sleeps;
The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time;
The old husband sleeps by his wife, and the young husband sleeps by his wife;
And these one and all tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them;
And such as it is to be of these, more or less, I am.

>>18354988
16.
I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise;
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff’d with the stuff that is coarse, and stuff’d with the stuff that
is fine;
One of the Great Nation, the nation of many nations, the smallest the same, and
the largest the same;
A southerner soon as a northerner—a planter nonchalant and hospitable, down
by the Oconee I live;
A Yankee, bound by my own way, ready for trade, my joints the limberest joints
on earth, and the sternest joints on earth;
A Kentuckian, walking the vale of the Elkhorn, in my deer-skin leggings—a
Louisianian or Georgian;
A boatman over lakes or bays, or along coasts—a Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye;
At home on Kanadian snow-shoes, or up in the bush, or with fishermen off
Newfoundland;
At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tacking;
At home on the hills of Vermont, or in the woods of Maine, or the Texan ranch;
Comrade of Californians—comrade of free north-westerners, (loving their big
proportions;)
Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen—comrade of all who shake hands and welcome
to drink and meat;
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest;
A novice beginning, yet experient of myriads of seasons;
Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion;
A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker;
A prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.


I resist anything better than my own diversity;
I breathe the air, but leave plenty after me,
And am not stuck up, and am in my place.


(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place;
The suns I see, and the suns I cannot see, are in their place;
The palpable is in its place, and the impalpable is in its place.
)

>>18353784
>>18353849
It is absolutely from "fixing to." "Fixing to" has been used in lower class southeastern US dialects for at least a century exactly the same way that finna has. Are you both euros or something? Read some Faulkner.

>>18351761
Nah but I'm finna boutta

>>18355029
Where did all the phonemes go?

>>18355042
White people who aren't pretending to be black here still pronounce the x and the t (usually softened to more of a d sound) but it's literally the exact same evolution from "going to" to "gonna," so I have no idea why that of all things is confusing you.

>>18355062
I want to know where the x factor went. It's like hitting a phonetic brick wall. The x makes it logically inconceivable to go from fixing to to finna, however this may be the gravity-defying power of niggatry at work.
Maybe "feeling to"

>>18354999
17.
These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me,
If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next to nothing,
If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they are nothing,
If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing.

This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is,
This the common air that bathes the globe.

>>18355135
18.
With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums,
I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches for conquer’d and slain persons.

Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?
I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.

I beat and pound for the dead,
I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.

Vivas to those who have fail’d!
And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!
And to those themselves who sank in the sea!
And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!
And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known!

>>18355146
19.
This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger,
It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, I make appointments with all,
I will not have a single person slighted or left away,
The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,
The heavy-lipp’d slave is invited, the venerealee is invited;
There shall be no difference between them and the rest.

This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair,
This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning,
This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,
This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again.

Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.

Do you take it I would astonish?
Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering through the woods?
Do I astonish more than they?

This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

>>18355102
I'm telling you right now that it did not come from any other phrase. You don't know what you're talking about.

>>18355195
It's from finally.

>>18351761
nigga i finna rape dis wite bitch. nigga i finna decolanize litrecher. nigga don tell me you finna gon finish dat grape drank by yo self

>>18353251
finna agree wit dis my nigga

Finna unironically rolls off the tongue better. Psycho wh*toids will freak about words and then say shit like "gotcha"

>>18355225
No, you retard, because it means you are about to do something.

BUTTERFLY YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME SOME INDICATION YOU'VE PUT YOUR COLLAR ON :3

>>18355261
Yeah. I'm not going to explain it to you now you rude prick. Sorry, stay ignorant.

>>18355102
that's like being mystified how going to turned into gonna
you're peak midwit lad

>>18351761
Academics recognized ebonics as a dialect of english instead of teaching the black savages to speak proper english.
This is just the result of that.

>>18354893
>>18354898
>>18354904
>>18354916
>>18354926
>>18354937
>>18354943
>>18354948
>>18354952
>>18354955
>>18354958
>>18354961
>>18354964
>>18354969
>>18354978
>>18354986
>>18354988
>>18354999
Uh mods? Ban this nigger?

>>18351761

Nigga finna gonna get got uknowamsayin

Right everything's a joke now

If it’s not in the Oxford dictionary it’s not a word.

>>18351761
When will "bix nood" enter the lexicon?

Nobody uses "fixing to". I have never heard anyone ever use "fixing to" or "finna". I think this is black patronising.

of course

I wouldn't write blacks.

>>18356797
Then you'll never get published mate

>>18351761
If I had a character that was supposed to be a contemporary urban youth, yes.

>>18351761
I used this word for years on /asp/ and didn't even know what it meant. It's weird to see it actually used.

>>18356709
>I have never heard anyone ever use "fixing to" or "finna".
This nigga finna die a virgin

>>18351761
Finnagans Wake

>>18353721
>cucked by word filter
This website hates the Spanish

>>18353784
It was originally a spoken word (cutting out half the letters and slurring it all together, naturally) that was translated to text after frequent abuse.

>>18353823
Maybe if you're a newfag

>>18351761
I refuse to speak to smelly subhuman niggers

>>18351761
I'm fixing to hate niggers

>>18351761
No, since it isn't a word.

I fucking despise AAV"E"

>>18351927
It was ruined from the begining

>>18351761
What, exactly, is the issue? Why would you not want these words to be in the dictionary? Imagine being someone from 2200 who is interested in understanding the culture of our era. Would this not be of immeasurable value?

>dictionary.com
ok

>>18357581
People are confusing normative and descriptive again. Including "finna" just means that it's a word that is being used, not that it should be used. Most dictionaries today are descriptive.

>>18351761
I will use it in my period novella where africans were free to move to Britain a long time ago.

FINNA PURLOIN THINE ADORNMENTS NIGGA. DOTH THINE EYES REMARK MINE AUTHENTIC ITALIAN SHOES? MINE GOLD BUCKLE BELT WHICH HOISTS MINE TROUSERS UP TO MINE WAIST IN A BATTLE AGAINST THE WEIGHT OF MINE MANHOOD LIKE ATLAS HOISTS THE GLOBE UP FROM OBLIVION?

>>18357602
This is something I appreciate. Most anons have little experience of places where linguistics is literally a prescriptive discipline that is constantly changing the rules of the language, such that what the finest novelists of a country's history wrote suddenly becomes grammatically incorrect just because some dude at a prestigious university said so. They would recoil in horror if they could see just what their ideas lead to.

>>18355159
20.
Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude;
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?

What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?

All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
Else it were time lost listening to me.

I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.

Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, conformity goes to the fourth-remov’d,
I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.

Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious?

Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel’d with doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.

In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.

I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.

I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter’s compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child’s carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.

I know I am august,
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.)

I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.

My foothold is tenon’d and mortis’d in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.

>>18357647
21.
I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,
The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me,
The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,
And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,
And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride,
We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,
I show that size is only development.

Have you outstript the rest? are you the President?
It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on.

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,
I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.

Press close bare-bosom’d night—press close magnetic nourishing night!
Night of south winds—night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night—mad naked summer night.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath’d earth!
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Earth of departed sunset—earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
Far-swooping elbow’d earth—rich apple-blossom’d earth!
Smile, for your lover comes.

Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love!
O unspeakable passionate love.

>>18353735
我可不赞成

Your mouth is getting blacked

>>18358228
>

Thanks god the RAE doesn't do this shit

>>18354865
Whats suppoaed to be underrated about that comment, newfag?

>>18357295
No one really LIKES them, but hate is sorta strong... I really don't care what they do so long as I don't have to live around them... That's why I moved to the Northern part of the country, Pockies tend to dislike the cold, they are not evolved for it.

>>18351761
I created a new word, too!

Pockie meaning a non-White individual, especially one living around Whites (as they seem to want to do, heavens know why).
"Pockie" is derived from PoC, "People of Colour".
Neat, huh?

>>18357581
Dialects bad when they spoken by someone I don't like.

>>18356902
untrue
they would just turn half of your characters black if it was ever adapted to film

>>18351761
American culture is centered around niggers. They have holidays for niggers. They killed hundreds of thousands of white men to free niggers. They listen to nigger music. They elect a nigger as their president. They dress and act like niggers. They draw the entirety of their modern culture from niggers. They post sassy gifs about niggers. They watch sportsball in worship of niggers. Their biggest event of the year involves throwing parties in honor of niggers playing sports. They use nigger slang like "bruh" and "thot". When you say "Martin Luther" they're not thinking of the father of protestantism. They're thinking of the nigger. Their cities are completely overrun with niggers. They worship their ZOGbot police force disproportionately filled with niggers and their global police force of soldiers filled with niggers. Their men sit around watching nigger ball while their women sit around watching nigger talk shows. They worship niggers like Muhammad Ali and Michael Jordan and Michael Jackson and the late Mike Tyson while attacking the whites who actually built their country before niggers took over. Their movies are filled with niggers and their music charts are topped by niggers. They send niggers to the Olympics and celebrate when the niggers win because those niggers are true red blooded american niggers. They watch nigger porn to a point where "BBC" does not make them think of an international media company but about nigger penises instead. They will tell you how much they hate niggers and how the mutt's law meme is a stale joke and they are just pretending to love niggers but the evidence speaks for itself in that America has always been and will be a nation of nigger loving niggers

>>18359264
For such brave freethinkers you sure seem to parrot other people's words a lot.

i remember being so confused when the black army recruiter who was driving me to my medical exam kept asking, "u finna eee?"

>u finna eee?
>what?
>u finna eee?
>i don't understand
>boy i dun axed u if u finna eee
>sergeant, i really don't understand what you're saying

i finally understood when he pulled into the popeye's drive thru. southern blacks literally speak a different language.

>>18351761
Yes.

>>18353784
Fixing to is still commonly used in the South and has been for decades.

>>18351927
u dont have to say it faggot