/lit/ - Literature

I sure would like to read about one of those girls turning into a giant blueberry, maybe the left one.

Maybe both?

>>3642315
Would you pop her if she got too big? If she was in horrible pain, begging for release?

>>3642315
Hmm, oddly I have a strong preference for the left one to turn into a giant blueberry. The one on the right has strong manlike features so as she became large, rotund and blue everything that made her a female would be lost (hair, boobs)

>>3642335
No, I don't condone assisted suicide

>>3642341
What if you knew she would die after a certain point anyway? Why draw it out, when she would so desperately cry for release?

Cars - a car - cars - a guitar - women - woman in red. Walking, scanning the magazines, up to the till. Glossy woman in nothing at all -

'Is that all?'

'A twenty pack of Marlboro, too.'

Upon newspaper, black and white, upon the sandwich, on its side, upon cigarettes, red and white, is sat queen face, crisp and green.

'Thank you,'

'Thank you.'

Finally, I look up at her. 'Lydia', I am led to believe, but the name is never spoken. A half-smile, a morning stranger smile, is offered. Its retort is professionally sincere. Outside there is a clack-clack-clack: a jazz regular rhythm generated as wheels slip into spaces between immaculate tiles. The suitcase was once fashionable, his suit still is. The man is wealthy, probably not a traveler. Lydia's soft purple shirt is a size too small.

'Next, please.'

Lydia is a size too large. She is unlike the girls on the cover. Perhaps twenty five, though her glasses must age her. Two hours to go. But not a moment more could reasonably be spent considering the perfectly sexless cashier: the too bright bulb, the dieter's weekly treat, the package holiday, the doughy smile, the unloved homely, the wholly unloved-

A flash of silver slides through the pastel sky, totters briefly on its hind legs. Panic, for a second. Air , old air, kept in lungs, old lungs, for seconds – maybe ten seconds – longer than normal, and what if, well. Ludicrous. We're fine, firmly down now boys, of course we're fine. Pencil skirt blonde trails glory into Starbucks and I follow. I still have two hours.

- Alright, that's what came out. I never write, haven't since I was fourteen, not even like this. Go easy on me, fellas.

>>3642344
uhh cause in one ending I kill someone, and in one ending I don't.

gee this is hard

Those breasts, my goodness.

>>3642309

Is it that time again?

You realize those girls are JEWISH right?!? How can you still be attracted to them???

Post some writing dammit!

1:25 a.m. I'm tired after a long day at work, so I sit in silence on the train. I look the various stickers and scrawls of graffiti around me. I half-remember a time when I snuck into the girl's bathroom and wrote some shitty love poem on the inside of a stall. No one ever found out I did it and the girls' reactions were mixed. One girl criticized the poem itself. I stop writing poetry after that. I have such low self-esteem back then. Maybe I could have been a writer, had I not done that and heard her criticism? Who knows? The train slows down and a soft tone sounded through the speakers.

*We have now arrived at Three Roads Station*

The station is cold and empty. No one, but a drug dealer pacing, is here. He looks at me and walks into the men's room, expecting me to buy something. I've never bought drugs before and I don't plan to this time. I make my way to the stairs leading to the street below. I've only done drugs once. I was in high school and a classmate of mine asked if I wanted to. Back then, I thought doing drugs was something everyone did. Like cheating or skipping class.

I drop my keys and employee card into a glass bowl. I stop by the kitchen to see if any food had magically appeared. Nothing. I forgot to buy food again. I even passed by a convenience store on my way over here. I close the fridge door and see a note that reads, "Don't forget to buy food." Nice. My ex used to buy all the food while I was out. We dated for almost a year. About a month, it's been since we broke up, but I still come home, like a husband from the fifties, expecting food that's waiting to be eaten.

----------------
That's all I got, OP.

>>3642411

Can anyone offer any feedback? It'd be much appreciated. As I said, new to this.

aslbfisaofja;fjasl;hdanlsll3333333333333333lkeffffffffffffffffkekasldssdddddddddddasdsaodjaosdjoasjdoasjdoasjdoasdjoasjdoasdjasodjasodjasojdasojdaosjdaosjdaosdjjasdjososddjdjdjdjjdjdjdjdjdjdjskakskskksallflflfrjrjrjrjrjjrjrjjrjrjrjtttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttoqhfdfdfgsdfgdsfdgsfdgsfdsgfdsgfdgsgsgsggssggsgsdfsdfadasdasdfdsasdasdafasdasdfaswaasdwasdwasdwasdwasdwasdwasdwasdwasdwasdwadwasdwasdwadwasdwapoipoipoipoipoipe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

>write without thinking

>>3642582
I own a publishing company and we need to talk please email me at pomopublishing@talent.com

“Come on. Just do it.” She demanded playfully, sitting up on the snowy hill. The pair of us simply lay there to pass the time.

“But why?” I said, laughing at the strange demand without taking my eyes off the sky. It just looked so cheerful that day, as though even the weather was enjoying itself. Despite the bed of snow and the general chill, the warmth of the sun made it the perfect temperature. It was a nice change.

“Because I want to see!” she changed tact, putting on her most ‘matter of fact’ voice, “They say you can tell a lot about a person by what they carry in their pockets.” Without waiting for me to refuse again, Amy reached for my pockets and began to fish the contents out.

I cocked an eyebrow at her tone, but didn’t make a move to stop her as she rummaged through my things.

“There’s nothing interesting in there, I told you. My phone, my keys and a wallet is all I ever carry.”

Perhaps she did look a little disappointed, but it didn’t stop her from flipping through the wallet and scrutinising my phone with an exaggerated carefulness. I cracked one eye open to find Amy holding my key ring to the horizon and examining its uninteresting properties carefully.

“What’s this one?” She asked, holding up the longest key in the set. I flicked my single open eye to her for a moment. Her face betrayed no sarcasm, so what could be the harm in answering?

“That’s the one for my bike.”

“And these?” she produced a fan of the colour-coded keys this time,

“The coloured ones are the keys to my apartment. Front door locks, windows and mail box.” I pointed lazily towards the locks’ respective colours.

“And what about this one?”

>>3642600

“That one?” I looked up to see her holding a key I’d been pretending didn’t exist anymore. I had meant to return that to its owner. I certainly had no use for it, not now, and not even when it had originally been given to me. Keeping it was just inviting misunderstandings on all sides. “That’s…”

Amy frowned at my pause, but moved on quickly, sensing she’d hit the wrong nerve. That’s right. I’d known her for what seemed like a life time, but there are things that even she could never know.

It would be bad if anyone knew.

Frantically she searched for a change of topic, even going as far as to produce the contents of her pockets and try to get me interested, but I had stopped listening as soon as that key had been held up.

Mood ruined, I sat up and stuffed my things back into my pockets, unsuccessfully attempting to contain my cocktail of annoyance and embarrassment.

“Let’s head back to the lodge, maybe they’ll be into the hard stuff already.” I said somewhat-gently, setting off without another word.

Behind me I could almost sense Amy’s loss for words, but she gathered herself quickly and soon I was being followed by a pretty girl crunching her confused way through the fresh snow.

I hoped they’d be into the hard stuff already.


I've never written anything in first person before.

>>3642600

'Well, that's the key for my chastity belt.'

Without hesitation, she threw the key into a snow bank some fifteen feet away.

'I'm taking the car, bitch boy,' she said, 'never call me again.'

>>3642411
>'A twenty pack of Marlboro, too.'
Stopped reading there.

holy shit the fucking bazongas on that chick on the left

>>3642610
Haha, god I shouldn't have laughed at that.

>>3642662

Sorry to disappoint you, Captain Cleanlung.

>>3642681
I have no problem with people smoking, writing about smoking is just cringeworthy and worthless.

I had a super depressing dream last night in which I was immortal. But it wasn't just immortality, I had just always existed and always would exist. I'd seen the birth and death of the universe thousands of times.

Felt so crap after that dream. But I know there's a story in it somewhere.

>>3642688

Well, that's your prerogative. Personally, I don't think that anything which regular people do regularly should be considered 'worthless' in writing. The cringeworthiness comes from the writer's attitude or agenda. When it comes to smoking, I don't have one.

>>3642470
Always time mon chere! Always!

She fucked him and I dont give a fuck. A slut will always be a slut. It makes me wonder why they bother with any sort of relationship, if they could easily acquire what they wanted from the easy gesture of their hips. She could fuck anyone she wanted. Down the street, oggling eyes, curious hands; men filled with the evolutionary purpose of genetic propagation. I can't blame the men, they're just being men.

Then thought came to my head, aren't sluts being just that? Sluts? Men are free to willy nilly fuck and be rewarded the seven kingdoms of Allah peace be unto him. But a woman, scorned, hanged, stoned (less the weed) upon the act of giving in to the evolutionary purpose that they inheritted as well.

At the thought of this I marvelled at how quick I got over my three month seventeen year old fling and instead ruminated on the days I fully had her under my whims. The temptress submitting to the arms of her temporal man, as if it was a moment she had built up to be enjoyed to the very last drop.

Her young flesh, her odour, sweat and shrill of her voice, resonated in my soul. Her taste, oh how she tasted to sweet just reminded me that I should have just remained outside the label of a boyfriend and just opted to be a fuck buddy. Oh well.

>>3642733
/a/: The Book

The dull substance of my flesh sits there
Your distance cannot stop my way
My foot stands and my piercing continues
You were the one
I did not want to live
You put me there
Now you are far
Miles away and finally a grin comes to my face
In the end of my days,I remember to spit on your grave
My own spirit will come to deface
Solong my sweet fake

>>3642741
Never been to /a/. Have they any experience on dating pre-18's?

Competency has always been a question, especially to the young men of my generation. 'Go to school and get your degree,' your mother would always say. 'Get a nice career and settle down with a family,' your eager aunt would always suggest. And why? Barring the incessant need to procure money to survive, why should I conform to a boring life, this systematic deconstruction of my youth. Is it because Im lazy I asked my self.

And with great humility I would say yes, I am a sort of sloth. But not when I had played my video games, or read something intriguing or did something that fully aligned to my accord. How self-indulgent must my generation be? Most of us, well 80% of us, will not find a career related to our degree, but the question of competency arises again. So what if Billy had finished his degree? So what if Emma has a degree in radiology? In the eternal words of Kanye, 'your degree wont keep you warm.' to succinctly rephrase the poet.

Then, should I be an vagabond destitute of any of the old-fashioned virtues and goals? Or should I don the volition of a starving man, finding his way among the field of uncertainty? This very same reflection prompted me, reminded me, on what had mattered. Love, Family and my work.

My love, always there for me (or so we both deluded ourselves to think), supporting me in my childish dreams.

My family, eternally believing in me, despite my actions and betrayal of their old archaic visions for me.

And my work; my music, my film and my writings. These have taken great importance; these have set me apart from Emma and Bill. My work is all I have to show to the world and to hopefully live in the words of a journalist, a critic, a judge, a proud daughter.

>>3642749
All of they're dating experience presumably comes from having their high school crush whom they never spoke too start going out with someone else. This sows the seed of bitter resentment which is fertilized by the hivemind of a thousand other people with the same experiences who were polite enough to let them in on the "truth" about women.

>>3642777
their*
wowza.

>>3642688

how is it cringeworthy if the smoking isn't being unnecessarily glamorized or portrayed as "cool"?

>>3642777
Oh that's not exclusive to /a/. That's a problem all betas share.

I was thinking the /a/ had a certain affinity for younger girls. Me being a 20 year old man (haha), is still lusting over that 17-18 year old body. Actually Im talking to a recently turned 19 year old chick. Full of life and full of youth.

I mean to get inside her by next week.

>>3642790
>implying smoking isn't glamorous and cool
That's just retarded. If they need all those stupid commercials to try and convince kids its not cool, clearly it must be cool. I mean they don't need commercials to convince kids that polka music is uncool.

>>3642796
Ever heard of the acronym 3DPD?

>>3642796
>17-18
>younger

They're fucking hags at that age. /a/ has a thing for little girls, not mature women.

>>3642796
Well they're's plenty of loli love. But that beta attitude is most out in the open on /a/. More than I've seen elsewhere at least.

Anyway, I feel you. Though I'm more into the 14-16 range. I like young nubile bodies but prefer tits as well. Late middle school/early high school are truly the best ages.

>>3642808
I feel you man. I've never been a smoker but those fucking commercials are horrible.

>>3642796
/tv/ is the one you're thinking of.

I'm 20, the girl I'm kind-of seeing is 17. Her interest for literature is something most women my age don't have. She's in high school, and is better read than most college girls, who can't shut up about the latest episode of Girls on HBO.

My friend is 24 and last week he finger banged some 16 year old in his Jeep (I saw a bit). At a movie theater parking lot, no less.

>>3642831
>fingerbanged
Lol this word.

If I could be anything at all
would I take the chance
the opportunity
when I could just as easily put myself there with a thought?
I don't want to be a professor
a banjo player
a train hopper
when the idea of being those things is so much more immediate
so much more satisfying
so much easier to achieve

>>3642831
Oddly enough I frequented /tv/ exclusively about a year ago. I wonder if my karmic past had manifested because of their disney/nick threads.

>>3642749
Nope, just fucking. Feels bestofbothworlds man.

>>3642749

>/a/
>experience dating
>anything but their moepillows

>>3642309
>Poetry sucks.
>It's useless as fuck.
>If you try to get published.
>You're shit out of luck.

>>3643010
So true. I post all my poetry on my blog, along with some short stories, because I know they're not going to be published anywhere else. Also, I see no point of just having it saved on my hard drive.

>>3642424
Gee in one ending you are responsible for someone suffering far more than they need to, and then they die and in the other ending, you shorten their suffering, and then they die.
Difficult decision, I know!

>>3642688
Writing about something that a huge portion of people do is cringeworthy? So authors should just pretend that smokers don't exist? Gotcha.

Last night you said something about a toaster oven before I fell asleep.
Not actual sleep but the kind of sleep where i closed my eyes to listen to the complex subtleties of your breathing.
You paced the room for a couple minutes before picking a book off the shelf.
As you fanned through the pages I could tell from the sounds of your fingertips that it was a softcover. Probably King or Anderson.
You quietly sighed as you put the book down on the table and that made me sad.
If i wasn’t asleep I would have hugged you or maybe I wouldn’t have.
But i wasn’t actually asleep

Last night I dreamed I was surrounded by spiders. I hate spiders, but in my dream they seemed barely a nuisance. Then I dreamed I was set against female cat burglar trying to rob disney world. How odd it was. After some cat and mouse we shot each other with absurdly small caliber guns. I remember feeling it sting in the dream and musing, about how absurdly small the caliber was. I told her I hated her, but it wasn't true. Then I dreamed I was disoriented on a boardwalk, when I ran into a gay-wedding bachelor party.


Dreams are weird.

My friend's old house has sat empty ever since they had to give it up when he jumped his bond.

Now parents drop off their babies on the overgrown lawn every morning.

If you go there in the afternoon you can see them, diapers bulging with piss and shit dragging along on the ground behind.

They've been doing it for so long now that there are paths worn down to the dirt.

I don't like to watch them anymore, because they get lost in the grass sometimes

and they knock each other over trying to find their way back to a trail. They'll just lay there until their mothers come to claim them once the sun disappears.

The door and all the windows in the front are boarded up, but if the wind is blowing

you can hear the screen door, loose and slamming in the back.

Sometimes I could swear I still hear his dog back there barking, too.

The rusted out skeleton of his old car is in the driveway set up on cinderblocks

and there are mushrooms growing out of the dash and the doors.

Sometimes groups of neighborhood teens from the projects near by will come and get inside and pluck the shrooms and pop the stalks into their mouths and gnaw on them.

They'll start nodding until finally their chins stop bouncing and they fall to sleep and when they do I think they look just like the babes who crawl in the dirt.

You can see the caps bobbing gently as they suckle the stems, even in slumber.

It's become such a problem that they have a watchman doing rounds every night.

Anytime he finds someone in there, he has to pull them out and load them up in his truck bed

and he drives through all the apartments and leaves them back on their doorsteps.

They call it 'going for a ride' and I think my friend would just be glad it's being put to good use.

At train stations in Japan there is the inevitable calamity of sexual frustration and mishap. To remunerate some of them for you, I was not long ago riding an escalator at Tokyo station to the highest track - Chuo line. The escalator is inclined at a steep angle, and not being a lecher, I generally keep my eyes on the area directly in front of me, and women help this cause by generally keeping their skirts together, however, it would not be impossible, if one was so inclined, to take a peep, a look up, and see what lay beneath these feminine folds. On one occasion, it was morning, and I was occupied looking at some pornographic material on my phone, purely for the purposes of locating a hairstyle on one of the male actors that I intended to show to my stylist later on that afternoon, however I watched in silence due to the unfortunate act of forgetting my earbuds at home, an unfortunate act that also had unexpected consequences that would alter the course of my inner feeling for the rest of the day and imprint itself on my memory for months, nay, years to come. With unhampered ears I heard a sudden sound about eight feet above me on the escalator - a break in the wind that caused me to peep up and lo! A sculpted buttocks, like a perfect peach come springtime half wrapped in cotton whites peeked back out from under a school dress skirt, a display of youth and life and all that has ran through my fingers like sand. The rest of the girl did not matter, only what I saw before me, and I could not detach my eyes from this sight, for she, as much as I were responsible, and it was not so much a she as it was a force of nature, a thing that was sent to destroy my will to live, for I knew there on that brief ride to the express train that would take me onwards to Shinjuku, that never would I cup even one of those cheeks with my bare palm, never would I kiss it tender, nuzzle my nose closer to its core, and be tickled by bristly Asian pubic hair. Oh, lord save me.

Part 1 fin

>>3643269
This reminds me of A Confederacy of Dunces, if Ignatius went to Japan.

>>3643345
except Ignatius was a homo

It's been a hard few weeks. Having to live with just texting my girlfriend, a girl that I've come to love very much over this past year. Constantly learning how to make this work, learning how rewarding it is to be with her.

"It just feels like everything is becoming too routine."
The words cut into me. This is exactly what happened last time, 6 months ago.
I'll be damned if I don't go down fighting.

April 6th, 2013

I weigh out my options. 'Is it my responsibility to end things if I know she won't do it?'
'Does she really just feel like everything's routine, or is she bored with me?'
'Is there something wrong with me?'

These thoughts happen regularly and often, each one sending me further into a pit of self pity and naivety.

>>3643357
Fuck, I'm not OP. Forgot to remove the name, sorry.

>>3643269
>To remunerate some of them
don't use big boy words if you don't know what they mean

>>3643217
I like stories like this, thanks for sharing!

>>3643269
On another day, yet still a morning, I was a bit late for my train which would leave at 8:55 precise, though I had planned for being late and actually intended to take the 9:03 train. This was a routine which I had failed to break for more than a year, a habit which I quietly accepted and filed into the back of my mind as one of partial denial, covering it with a rug of the hope of making the 8:55. Still, I was rushed, and it being the beginning of Summer I was sweat laden both on brow and in the pits of my arms never having truly accustomed myself to the humid swamp like conditions that pervade most of Japan. How they were able to attain such a level of rigid formality even in their dark ages one finds it hard to understand, but their proclivity for bathing does become easier on the mind. As I pressed my wallet to the train gate sensor, utilizing the monthly pass which I believe makes me look more local that the backpack toting tourists who fumble with their single ride tickets, I saw before me something which made my penis move slightly in my pants, an uncomfortable feeling for the most part due to the constrictive nature of boxer-briefs designed for males of smaller waistline and girth. Walking away from me at a saucy rhythm was a woman with thin white pants that were only barely opaque to my eye and I could catch the shadow of her legs and bottom underneath along with the lines of underwear which held beneath a perfect prize. Her hair was done up as well to give the impression of wealth, but not so meticulously done as to suggest a personality of higher maintenance - a characteristic that I could not abide even when admiring a woman from afar and if I even suspected such a vein in their body, I'd turn my eye and never look back. But here, we had what appeared to be a perfect specimen.

>>3643359
haha shit, well, is there a word similar to what i meant? which sounds similar but means "to recall"? ruminate? can you ruminate something for other people, or is it only an internal thing?

>>3643366
So, accompanied by a slight bulge, I hastened forward, taking the left side of the escalator which is used for those who would choose to walk up rather than wait to be ferried mechanically by the automation of the escalator itself. As I neared the top, I passed my white pantsed prey, and gave a casual, look to my side, to lay eyes on her face, to see how my package was wrapped, only to recoil visibly in horror, a reaction I could not hide anymore than my erection could stay firm. I could see that she had noticed my reaction, and perhaps envisioned my entire transformation, for this woman was ancient and likely had wisdom untold from ages past, her face like the cracked bark of an centennial oak and a nose that hawked out in rude mimic of an Oz witch. Her mind probed mine across the vast gap of age which lay between us and saw my revilement laid bare as her ass in my imagination only moments ago. I hugged the black rubber of the escalator rail and stumbled onto the platform, still unable to take my eyes away from this harpy, but luckily, she broke eye contact first and looked down, her expression changed, probably deep in planning of some spell to cast on me to lure me, for suddenly I felt an urge to follow and I wished for a moment I had crew mates who I could order to tie me to the mast. I stepped forward, on unsturdy legs, only to see that she had chosen to enter a Women Only car of the waiting train. Confused, but not wanting to break any rules, I took another car and never saw her again.

This is a little story I made a thread about, but no one's paying attention to it apparently. Anyone care to put a little input in? It's a fairly quick read, and it's only the beginning, I just need to know if it's a good start and if I should continue.
_____________________________

"It's been a long day, you should sleep,"
The lights flash off, and he stares at the blacked ceiling above him, thinking to himself about the day that lies ahead.
'I am fine.'


Daylight sifts through his windows, annoying him to the point of throwing himself around in his sheets; the sudden entrapment of silk adding on to this stress.
He stops, accepting his own failure and decides to make his move to the kitchen.
'I'll be fine. I just need more ti-'
His thought is cut short by the soft voice that called out to him.
"Good morning,"
The girl chuckles at this sudden interruption, then offers him a chair by her.
"I hope you like this, it took a little while. If only I had some help."
Her slight scolding is well heard, and he can do nothing but sit there and feel embarrassed.
"I just had problems sleeping last night, that's all."

The girl looks at him, as if trying to decipher any body language that could have been hidden in his reply.
"Are you okay?"
This is the question everyone asks, and only a few know why I won't ever be.
'Are you okay? Want to talk about it? Can I do anything to help?'

'No. No one can make this better.'
"I'm fine, thanks for breakfast."
"Hmph. Well alrighty! Let me know when you're ready to come out of your little bubble, mister!"
This seemingly cheerful reply goes unnoticed, as he walks back to his room and gets ready for the day.

Hey /lit/ how yoou go about putting music in your works? I mean, should I just allude to a popular tune? Like 'he hum the recognizable tune of Fur elise'.

What are some examples?

Name their kingdom.

Description:
a small crescent shaped shore that surrounded a small lake, where the tide of the water would seep deeper into the land at night. Behind the shores was a small veranda of maple trees.

>>3643383
Kind of interested. Would read more.

again

a bright morning and sunlight is striking passing cars reflecting rays
of warmth and brilliance on our faces and we are growing like a plant
or

a child who is going to school for the first(?) time and who is
assailed with nervousness which strikes him like

hailstones of notable size battering the dead and flat grass but we
dance in them because there is sensation at last yet

everything which has ever begun has or will come to an end this
includes but is not limited to pulsars and

parking lots which are implying the existence of persons otherwise
unknown and the fact that people are always getting lost in them
before

driving in a car when signs of wind are visible in the motion of trees
and banners but they cannot be felt with the windows up so we stop but

everyone here is walking in a different direction and i wish i could
press a Pause Button so we can stop moving and let time pass us by and
stop

recording breeze when the microphone sputters yet the sensation is conveyed

after swimming in very cold water when the air becomes quite warm so i
stand on the beach unclad unlike

standing in line where there are so many voices but nobody is saying
anything because we know we will all wake up tomorrow but before that

moonlight filters past the tree and blinds and leaves shadows on the
wall which can be touched but not forgotten

and everything else is

going to sleep and lying on the same side every night with the same
dreams repeating like a scene on a broken projector in an attic where
it has remained for a while now and now you have found it but it's
missing parts and the same scenes are repeating again and the same
scenes are repeating and again and the same scenes repeating again and
the again and the repeating the same
scenes
are
repeating

Acceptable Casualty Rates on a Moderate Scale
are
Politically Tolerable if not Desirable
when
they are Limited to Groups not Analogous to
the
Constituency
in terms of Race Creed Gender and other
Factors Irrelevant to the Certain Mechanisms
which effect++

>>3643398
Don't put any pop culture references in your work. It dates the writing and the references may not be relevant or familiar to the reader.

>>3643398
you should not ask how to do such a thing you should simply do it in the correct way

>>3643438
nice

strangely cohesive

>>3643450
What's the correct way?

>>3643448
Its a classical piece. So it should retain its value.

>>3643454
there are many correct ways but there is only one correct way

>>3643462
Um.. okay.

I just need an example is all.

>>3643448
such rigidity is for writers of technical manuals

>>3643463
this one is not so quick but perhaps walking he will go farther

the correct way is the way you choose to do it

you have only to decide

>>3643469
Thanks, your great Mendicant.

>>3643366
>>3643382
what does anyone think of my shiiit

I'd probably should take a walk of the balcony someday. This grinding down bullshit life is eating me up, and I can't see any life that isn't exactly like it in another glamorous jacket.
Someday is an easy thing to say though, because it means not now, meaning never.
Shit, I'll maybe even end up at middle management someday.

>>3643446
People aren't empathic to other people who neither share their view, beliefs, moral code and aesthetics?
Shit son, why didn't you tell me this before?

>>3642566
Might want to proof your stuff. Grammar errors and missing words all over the shop, especially in that first paragraph.

>>3642697
Reminds me of Buddhism, how they strive to stop being reborn.

>>3642605
I would probably keep reading this.

my shoulder blades hurt. they hurt like hell.
they hurt like hell cause i am on the internet all the time, clicking and shit. i need to stop but i will not stop. i will not stop because i am a stupid idiot, and i often enjoy being a stupid idiot. i spit on the logical life, i spit on the healthy and well lived life. i know i am merely imitating former greats, and i feel shame, and i spit on that too. for what is my life but a continuation of pain, be it in my shoulder or elsewhere. why must i presume anything, pursue something, pick things? cyclical suicide in sacrificial season, guilt and heaviness all on each other's throats, i am tired and sad and disgusted and bad. i need help, yet i seek it not, because i know such a thing is in short supply, and i fear others need it more than i. for i have words, and though words be not much, they offer small solace in the winter of my younger years, the not-yet-springtime of this world. i climbed up enough to see the peak, and then i climbed back down, rested in the valley, was washed down to the sea. now i have built a hut near the beach, and it's washed away every moon, and yet i cannot move, for the mountain is too tall. i sit and rest by the ocean, my bane and savior, stare at the moon, and close my ears to the waves. here be i though i know not what lie is i.

>>3642501
because they're 15.

>>3642501
Just makes my dick harder.

Girl on the right is a dude

>>3643951
>Girl on the right is a dude
what's your point

>>3643563
bro exercise your rhomboids with rhomboid pushups and bed lifts, its a simple exercise that can go a long way to rehabilitating rounded shoulders

>>3642309
dem sum tits

>>3642309
Damn, Claire Abbott is great.

The tree was as solemn as the angels, while the gun lay smoking and the orgy had reached its final climax. Six pink lacquered chairs lay strewn across the majestic hall, with it's reverberations like decorations for the ears and ceilings like plateaus for the seraphim. A black mask broken in two was a historian's hallucination as he slept in a green pod, polluting the air with noxious dust.
A cacophony of purple clad clandestine ecclesiastics crawled through the barbed hedges, wailing for their mothers and their father was laughing manically behind a cloud that looked like an antelope.
The cars on the roads ceased their travels and became monuments to the human spirit, courageous but ultimately irrelevant, the apathy of a thousand civilizations rained from the pink sky sending shock waves of monotony through the sands of the Sahara and the Elephants were crying.
Look not to the skies for there is no answer gazing back.
Green are the buildings now, disappeared are the tarmac scars and the screeching sirens of some forgotten town are but sighs of the dying denizens.
Retrieve your Bible, the English Dictionary and tear the pages out one-by-one, tossing them to the flames for warmth. Your poetry is disgusting and your prose leaves a dull sensation on the tongue. Your people have passed and you're wasting your time.

>>3642733
It's painfully obvious that you still care about her.

Anon sits and looks at the thread for ten minutes, trying to find even the most tentative premise for writing something about a girl being turned into a blueberry, he searches his brain desperately but finds nothing besides muddled thoughts borne from a vague sense of fatigue. He scrolls through the rest of the thread, pausing to read a fanciful stream-of-consciousness something-or-other, and wonders about the person who wrote it.

Anon pauses for a long while before concluding that he has nothing else to add, and dissolves into a cloud of dissociated atoms as the walls crumble and the ground opens up to disgorge thousands of tiny, glowing creatures from its magmatic womb.

I'd introduce either of those girls to Descartes.

>>3644439
Of course I do. I mean I want to fuck her still.

Reviving this thread.. cmon writers. New day new work. Increase that word count.

James: wHOA! Nice explosion bro!
Douglas: Thanks man, I thought you'd like it.
James: Cutie, you always know what turns me on :3
Douglas: Why'd you call me cutie? What do you mean by turns you on?
James: Well, when I saw the explosion, I suddenly realized the impact you have been having on my thoughts lately.
Douglas: Oh, are you a gay?
James: Yea man, I think so. When I saw you ejaculate like that, it made my pants really tight.

>>3644873
I enjoyed that turn of phrase

The door slammed close without any further notion as to where it was going. It left the appartment and ventured out onto the street where it was met by the fumes that polluted the urban oxygen. The door hailed a taxi and started knocking on the back of the driver's seat. 'Do you mind?' asked the annoyed cabinet who was piloting the door to his destination. The door murmured an apology and looked out of the window and let his gaze wander over the city life, but instead of being part of this life he now looked at it in the way in which someone might look at a monkey in the zoo. Perplexed by the insanity which drove the monkey's actions and finding it hard to believe that this monkey was its ancestor and that all its behaviour was somehow driven by the same primal urges that fueled the actions of the primate in front of him.

Do you keep a diary? If so, what do you write about and why do you do it? Do you write it on paper or using a computer?

It bends back into itself before any thing has been won or lost and to stop it all without the cost he must reach the seas to obtain a gun contaning crate, often pushed up and shoved away from the charols, fire and fire run in before he tires. Will and when his ashes command before the bodies of blackened man he shamed himself for what he knew and shot his heart for what he forgot. Doesn't matter how these green snakes fly all i know is that I will be over there in the air when i die. Collapsed and untold, only told to one's soul, the secrets taken before time again back down he had stolen all but not one shitty shot was lost in the cost of repairs, bow down before they show them the stairs that run into one and 2, 2 bombs 2 cry along with jon and stand up to fight against, this time not one, but we're fighting that thing. Stoppable only to 1, the machine code operations begin to stop, not knowing anything outside the flop, quarantined mr. green post humously catered, and catered to the pristine crime, armed with 7 0 4 99, he'd win not black again against the shoe strap bringing it from the flash back, back inside the knik knak, and all that around the oval for round to be woven. Nothing resolves, everything's potent

You said not to think...

>>3644924
I keep both. My notebook is more for general things. my pc program for journaling is more explicit because I find typing easier than writing.

>>3644924
Sorry, meant to start a thread not post in here.

Here's the thread.
>>3644935

Welcome to the watery pit, where the devil lives
He does not let anyone in, except Mr. Dives
Because he DIVES into the pit, where the devil
The watery pit, where the devil lives

Look at my soul, of my eyes, I am eternal
Welcome to your best nightmare, stone cold hall
Raptor Jesus cannot save you now
For you're in the pit
The watery pit
Where the devil lives

Enchurito
Nacho burrito
I am spanish
My name is Benito

MUSSOLINI MUSSOLINI MUSSOLINI MUSSOLINI MUSSOLINI MUSSOLINI MUSSOLINI MUSSOLINI

IN THE PIT
THE WATERY PIT
WHERE THE DEVIL
DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNEEEEEEEESSSSSS! Ole!

The 2nd half is great. Unleash more of that.

>>3644941
wow pretty impressive for stream of consciousness has a good driving rhythm to it!

She took the statuette off the mantle and bashed his face in until it resembled the consistency of fresh hamburger. "Fucking lying pig asshole!" she screamed, until her arms were coated in streams of red jelly, and her arms became strands of thin taffy.

She then realized she was delicious.

>>3645052
is for you>>3645017

“How do we get people to believe this? It’s kinda sad.” I asked.
She smiled and replied.
“Getting people to believe a lie is easy. Making them believe a horrible truth they don’t want to accept takes some convincing. Most people will believe the lies we tell because they want to believe them due to fear of how horrible the truth tastes to us. The truth is bitter and lies are sweet. The person without the fear of the truth is often lonely in their truth and seldom finds honest company. The lies we tell hide our weakness, give us power, gain each other’s trust, honor our friendships, and even begin love. Lying is a basic social construct of our society. The person who thinks lying is wrong is telling themselves the lie that society would be better if we were honest. We are human, therefore we lie. What gets me about "cheating" is that if you look at the words of a traditional marriage vow, there is not a single word mentioned about taking another. Society calls it "breaking your vows". Yet the vows mention nothing about being with another exclusively. This is a social lie (that marriage is restricted to monogamy) society has told us to keep us all from descending into madness. I imagine that subconsciously we are all aware of the loop hole in vows and some take advantage of it. Then they lie to their spouses because they think their spouses are probably doing the same thing. It is the social lies we tell ourselves that keep us from the "righteous rage" we would feel if we really knew the truth.
cont.

>>3645259
Ever notice that it’s the truth that often destroys relationships? That her friend told her what happened at the bar or something else that interfered with the plans of Mr. Perfect’s lie? Everything was peachy until he came home early to spend time with her, only to find his buddy in bed with his wife. Everyone was happy with the lie. Here’s a hard truth to swallow. The best people to be in a relationship with are the ones who are great liars that don’t get caught. Is this truth starting to taste a bit bitter? Spit it out then and enjoy your sweet lies just like everyone else.”

the smoke trails amble and flow towards the ceiling, a spectrum of moving, convulsing patterns swirls and sway in throbing unity. I am high beyond compare and can barely feel my body, i feel invalid and slack jawed but know at this point i have no worries, no concerns or hostiles to defend myself. Far in the background faint echos of my psychonaut comdrades sink slowly into my mind, delayed and fleeting, they talk of man and life and the troubles they face but i am imune to such mundane dribble, it leaves no impression on my scattered mindset and leaves as soon as it entered, i begin to wonder if i've taken too much for there's an acidid gurgle in my stomach and the shakes begin to fill my joints, i am positive now that i have taken too much.

i think in sonnets. guess the verse form.

Black hoodie, purple tights, this is all
I know. Can't remember more than
these whiffs of colour, my skin raised cold.
Do you act? There's a resemblance
to one Anna Karerina, her,
who somewhen graced our cinemas
Then, if you would accept this part,
I will play too, my part Godard
In all truth, I know nothing of you
I, as any man, am only charmt
by my mind as reflected
in the transient mirrors of those who
were once seen, now imaginary
nymphs, stored for love's fantasies.

I thought of moist pink vagina while delivering sandwichs today. It was pleasant. I thought of man anus and felt guilty when I got the chubs.

Don't be boring, it is the worst thing to be. My mother told me this and in consequence I felt compelled to be just as bold and as brilliant as she had been. All I know of her adventures in exotic places had been told to me by her. All the stories of exotic men adventuring in her intimate places I had to hear from my father with great and grotesque detail. He enjoyed telling me how many men wanted (and had) her and how it was by his introduction to her that made her what she is now, a sentient footstool.

A loud bang came from the dumpster. Marcel took a deep drag of his lite cigarello, looking passively around the mid-day alleyway, seemingly content with the lack of curious eyes. Another bang, another drag. Several worn down butts littered the ground around Marcel's $10 thrift penny loafers.

"it's bread, Esteban. Stop digging for gold"

The lid of the grimy dumpster let out a slight tremor before erupting up, landing on its rails with a smash that caused no one to bat an eyelash. A short, dark skinned grubby young man appeared where the lid had once been. Esteban threw the loafs of day-old bread to Marcel, landing among the discarded butts.

"No, no, no" Esteban muttered, adjusting his amber eyes to the sunlight, "THIS bread is worth its weight in gold."

Marcel sighed, bit off the end of his dying cigarello and picked up the bread. The two of them took a corner and found themselves back with bustle of the streets. Somewhere nearby a bus careened, a baby cried and people drank coffee.

"eat now, hustle later?" Marcel smiled, patting Esteban on the back. Esteban made to reply, but his words were dampened by the hunk of bread he'd been chewing on.

"man does not live on bread alone, but but whose really living anyway?"

The river of flowing glass cast pale reflections of blurred figures. Struggling against a biting wind and the onset of rain, I adjusted my jacket and raised my umbrella, an ugly brown and white thing I had received as a present two years ago. Looking down again, I saw water-shadows hurry around my reflection until the image was dissolved in the ripples of raindrops. It had been foolish to leave the warmth of the apartment when portentous clouds hung so heavily, and more foolish not to dress more warmly; but impulse had driven me faster than I could think. The sidewalk as nearly empty now, what few remained limping their way across the bridge or standing impatiently before the stoplight. Green, yellow, red: cars, spurred on by the impending stop, sped by, kicking up small curtains of water. The sky was reflected in cement and concrete now, in puddles and slicks cast an ominous grey. Searching for a break of blue, either above or below, my mind drifted, and by the time I had returned to myself, the traffic was moving again and, despite my umbrella, I had become soaked.

these things crawl underground into tubes that pump them through to the heart of the city where all the energy gets sucked out of them and they return home through the tubes going the other way left with mounting feelings of stress and discontent and they try to turn off their brains with buttons on a remote control or a keyboard until the hours wane and they fall asleep but they still haven't felt anything meaningful so they cant sleep and they wake up tired the next day and eat breakfast and go out and they crawl underground and we call these things people but what makes a human being?

>>3645468
In retrospect, I probably abused the comma a lot more than I should have. Oh well.

You're like a Grecian fantasy living in my century. You're shameless and aimless, got no real life to live but you're living anyway. Wasting what you've been given for a cheap laugh and momentary highs. I love your aesthetic, but you're filled with black poison.

>>3645544
you sound like a cunt mate

I'm thinking that when we try to write without thinking we just write what comes to our minds at the moment we are writing so we are writing exactly what we are thinking at the same moment we are thinking it.
I wrote "without thinking" what I was thinking

>>3645555
I do I suppose, I just kinda wrote down whatever came out, I am obviously subconsciously a massive faggot.

>>3645563
yeah it's called zen and i've been meditating for a long time soooooo...

nothing new okay?

>>3645563
You head down this path youll find infinite regression. Then you'll find yourself applying the same regression, this same deconstruction on your identity and if, and only if you have penetrating insight will you learn what the Buddhist's call Annata.

>>3642309
Ok, you want a writing, i'll write you something. Where do i begin with?, should i begin with my sorrows, with my laments, or should i begin with my memories?. Today was a pretty grey day, i fucked up any chance of meeting the girl that was interested in me. While i was returning to my home i slept in the bus while some rich bitches in the back seats were talking about the faggots they fucked the last weekend. The whole day was grey and not even rain happened, everythig was juts plain gray, gray skies, gray trees, gray cement, and i felt awkward and guilty again, i suffered headaches of old sick loves and routine. That's everything i have to say today, there's your writing OP. I hope you enjoy it, laugh, cry or whatever the fuck you want, i'm done with my life today.

I sperged the herbly gurtner on the way to the apple store.

I bought herbs, spice and some apples at the store. On the way home I drowned, and came a little on the street.

I came home from the store and saw that a man had drowned in a puddle, which was a bit too absurdist for me so I had to look away. I bit into my apple apprehensively.

I apprehended the offender, sir. He was stealing apples from a vendor on the street. People were talking about a very odd man, possibly mentally handicapped, who had tried to drown himself last week. Said he had the audacity to don a toothbrush moustache. It all seems a bit absurd to me.

My toothbrush drowns in the sea of my sink, as I, apprehensive and indeed possibly mentally handicapped, regard its demise in utter horror. We talked about this last week. I feel as though I'm repeating myself. I feel as though I am trying too hard. Who cares, right? yes, right.

>>3646478
woah. I just realized that the best way to write like Tao Lin is too write without thinking at all.

t. poster of this piece of beautiful work

>>3646478
I really enjoyed this

God damn those are some great tits. I'm not a religous man but sweet jesus budda lover those melons just want to be cuddled with. Her sister looks like she enjoys the dick too. fucking sluts. oh god I'm so lonely.

>>3646491
thanks m8

t. person who once won an award for his writing and got perfect scores in college but has yet to get published :c

>>3646502
>>3646502
Its alright anon, sex is very overrated.

>>3646508
>perfect scores in college

Get the fuck out of here

>>3646478
How do you drown and come on the street? Explain.
Nice work, tryhard. 7deep14me!

>>3646516
you mad because i got perfect scores and my IQ is 15000 faget

>>3646521
ur a cunt but thanks Ill take your opinion with a grain of autism

Sometimes when I masturbate I think of tacos. George Wallace and Michael McKean once fucked in a vat of mango chutney. Politics is largely irrelevant and devastating in its importance. The basket of apples I left on the table has turned into an ostrich. No matter what I do it'll be the same as before. Sweet ham sandwich of alabaster pearly clamshell that is one decadent yet tiresome tomato. Loans officers drive cars and think about terror on a daily basis.

>>3642411
I'm impressed.

>>3642733
>Her taste, oh how she tasted

Come on.

Under the swinging moon and entrancing stars the dancehall swayed. Husbands, wives and lovers alike swung in lazy circles to the orchestral guide whose importance rapidly dwindled comparative to that of the bar. Alongside a mirrored wall ran the wooden stretch, whose periphery was touched with brass and behind which scurried several attendants. They poured and mixed for the revellers who stumbled laughing to the brazen edge.
Walker stood at the door, a glass of tonic in his hand, watching the partygoers enjoy the entertainment provided by him. He smiled wryly, sipped at the water and turned slowly into the corridor.
He eased along the glossy corridor with suave elegance, stopping to place the now empty glass on a sideboard by the entrance to the foyer. Passing from the house and descending the front stairs, the night cast air into the folds of his loose tuxedo. It was brisk and clean outside. The sky’s complexion was of charcoal; its vast perennial sheet flecked with stars and celestial gestures clustered in arcs and folds.

Gilbert takes much space and wiggles around his seat. It is a retractable seat with HD vinyl covering, bad-looking, which has a verdigris taint slightly leaning towards spinach, bad-looking too, with an engraving : “the presidamt suck”. By Gilbert’s right, there is a small poster out of polished paper, glossy, gleaming as if gluey, ugly, covered with salmon letters, ugly too, and air bubbles all over. It says, “When overcrowded train, do not seat on retractable seats”. Wagon wanderers, railway dwellers and other rush hour devotees despair. Without permit, one of them gives voice : “Get up from that seat”.
Annabeth by Gilbert's side says “We’re sorry. My friend here has a twisted ankle”.
“No, I don’t. I just want to seat.”.


When a station is to come next, the patronizing motorizing train voice asks itself, reluctant, as if wondering : “Châtelet?”. When trains stop, it sighs in calm relief : “Châtelet”. It is amusing.
Slow wagons roll on and about monorails. They remind Gilbert of big rectangular animals. Châtelet is a mishmash hodgepodge of lead-to-nowhere staircases and nonsense corridors, what a mess of a maze.

The valley was strewn with the random, schizophrenic junk that accumulates in all human communities. A child's tricycle. A wok. Here and there, useful items: a pickup truck, slightly rusted but presumably operational. I found more than a hundred dollars in a cash register.

Those who lived here sure had left in a fucking hurry.

i want my sister's pussy juice to flown in my mouth right now
niggerz
everywhere

I have nothing to compare this to, nothing to test this against. I don't know how other humans are on the inside. You're the only example i have of a person. But that doesn't matter. I love you. I love how violently you clash with yourself. You dwell, you thrive of feeling sadness but you have such a profound love of laughter. You're terrified of everything, but nothing truly scares you. You're so complex, so unsimple. I've been living based on the purpose i was born with, but you're different. You make a purpose for yourself, you pick your own path. And now im picking mine. I'm not a tool. Im not human either. I am who i am. And im going to live. and i choose a life with you

>>3649577
so, you just described me. im a guy, though. how does that work for you?

>>3642605
I really enjoyed this, nice job.

Grendel stole the night sky from Beowulf, gaudy in greens and blues and whites, spanning the entire arctic night. For the briefest of moments, there is nothing but permafrost, winds blowing ice crystals across the barren landscape at the magnetic pole. And, then, a single individual materializes, only distinguishable from its surroundings as a rough, man-like outline a shade out of tune with the rest of the white waste.

Colm Falkirk, Director General of the Polity Police Agency has arrived on Beowulf After a moment, he nods, and the rest of the PPA similarly materializes. There is nothing magic, here. Their dropships had silently fell from the L1 above the icy planet, cloaked across the spectrum of light and radio waves to complete invisibility. Only the smartest of scanners would have recognized that anything at all had landed in this remote area. It was well chosen.

Three drab grey dropships disgorged their contents, seventy men and women dressed as the Director General, in thick white atmosphere suits. Because Beowulf is further from Odin, the dim red star that provides a home for the odd binary planetary system, Beowulf is predominantly uninhabitable. The onlly area fit for human habitation is a fifteen mile wide band around the equator. The rest s too cold for anyone not insulated. And here, at the pole, the dunes of ice are made of oxygen and nitrogen, permanently frozen. The PPA was alone for thousands of miles in any direction. It made a good spot for the militnt arm of the PPA to set up shop.

Wait, why would she turn into a blueberry? what the fuck?

simple, sissy: caterwaul
the boys about are ten feet tall
no higher in the clearing than she'd left you

The glass-eaters
were running around my basement
tossing china
Mama would be angry--they turn to you!
Mama would not allow it--oh, so it's true!
"Tell her we'll whisper"
they said aloud.
"Tell her we'll whisper"
they said.
children staring. staring now.
staring. staring. more.
more.
more more.
more.

I don't like how big the girl's nose on the right is.
I don't like that I don't like how big the girl's nose on the right is.
I like that I don't like how big the girl's nose on the right is.

we are all
rust
in the wind

Those osft pillows, softer than the clouds of heaven
look at her waist, barely seven,
widths of the legth of an angels harp,
she, never really though how far she would come,
so her back had worn

I looked out of my window and saw it. Shiny, golden, perfect. It's lure greater than the strongest magnets, the most beautiful women, and the grandest treasures combined. An idea. With that idea I would become famous, people would revere me the world over, I would never have to pay for drinks again. This was it. This was my destiny. Greatness: here I come.

There are twelve feet between myself and that frog. What would happen if I were to throw a rock at it? Would the people walking by notice? Would they care? I'm going to throw this rock. The frog won't mind, I'm sure. Neither will the rock. I suppose the rock won't mind, will it? What if it does? What if it can feel, just like us?

>>3642309
"put a coat on! you'll catch a cold! Oy vey!"
read in fran jewscher's voice