/lit/ - Literature

you wish you could be an ornery old man, but instead you're a softie at heart. Also, never had a fulfilling relationship.

>>1989151
'What else? What about my personality? Political ideology?

You live in a semi-detached house. You have two brothers, one of which is older and the other of which is much, much younger. You are roughly 24 years old and travel abroad as often as you can afford, which is not very often as you barely make above minimum wage in a low-level service job, possibly in a restaurant or café. Your favourite genre of music is 1960s rock music, although your favourite band is Belle and Sebastian which you feel ashamed of for reasons you can't quite place. (It is because you are a repressed homophobe.) You often focus on people's flaws, especially when you feel them to be of a higher social status than you. Family is important to you, more important than your friends and most of your romantic relationships. You have a yearly ritual where you watch It's A Wonderful Life at easter just to spite cultural expectations of seasonal activity. You have two cats, and a fish. Your greatest dream is to become a renowned theoretical physicist and discover the world's largest monoid.

>>1989203
>>1989203

>>1989203
..David?

>>1989203

dumb

>>1989203

>>1989203

>>1989203

ITT: samefag

>>1991348

You have anger management issues and a speech impediment.

Something strange is creeping across me.
La Celestina has only to warble the first few bars
Of "I Thought about You" or something mellow from
Amadigi di Gaula for everything--a mint-condition can
Of Rumford's Baking Powder, a celluloid earring, Speedy
Gonzales, the latest from Helen Topping Miller's fertile
Escritoire, a sheaf of suggestive pix on greige, deckle-edged
Stock--to come clattering through the rainbow trellis
Where Pistachio Avenue rams the 2300 block of Highland
Fling Terrace. He promised he'd get me out of this one,
That mean old cartoonist, but just look what he's
Done to me now! I scarce dare approach me mug's attenuated
Reflection in yon hubcap, so jaundiced, so déconfit
Are its lineaments--fun, no doubt, for some quack phrenologist's
Fern-clogged waiting room, but hardly what you'd call
Companionable. But everything is getting choked to the point of
Silence. Just now a magnetic storm hung in the swatch of sky
Over the Fudds' garage, reducing it--drastically--
To the aura of a plumbago-blue log cabin on
A Gadsden Purchase commemorative cover. Suddenly all is
Loathing. I don't want to go back inside any more. You meet
Enough vague people on this emerald traffic-island--no,
Not people, comings and goings, more: mutterings, splatterings,
The bizarrely but effectively equipped infantries of
happy-go-nutty
Vegetal jacqueries, plumed, pointed at the little
White cardboard castle over the mill run.