Critique Thread. Post your writing and please give feedback. This isn't a masturbation session. I'll start: May I Have perfect shade From the sun, but keep A few frail rays to braid A lanyard for my cat to chase Around my mother's garden?

File: 960 KB, 1650x1650, bluemountain.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Anonymous Tue Aug 21 18:00:48 2018 No.11661331 [Reply] [Original]

Critique Thread. Post your writing and please give feedback. This isn't a masturbation session. I'll start:

May I
Have perfect shade
From the sun, but keep
A few frail rays to braid
A lanyard for my cat to chase
Around my mother's garden?

>>	Anonymous Tue Aug 21 18:03:26 2018 No.11661346 >>11661331 Not bad though i typically eschew minimalist poetry.

Anonymous Tue Aug 21 18:13:58 2018 No.11661402

If ever Being could be brought to me
Could i encapsulate it in a cup?
And whatever feeling has been thought from me
Is it one that you would wish to sup?
The dying sparrows fall forth again
From the shady trees which gave them birth
And still my longing heart is full of pains
Because i cannot convey my souls deep dearth
Perhaps validation will find me gray
Though even now my soul feels lamentably aged

Anonymous Tue Aug 21 19:02:53 2018 No.11661671 [DELETED]

On the Shores of the World

There was a wretch who in his dreams
built star-ships that flew ‘cross the sun,
and eons too drew back as one
as he envisioned streaks and scars–
Dust of colors fuchsia ripe,
the twilight twins that glaze the sea.
But then he paled, it could not be
all in his mind so gently laid.
Though something grand was at a crux,
he could not fail his artistry,
his passion for his queen-to-be
and faith to thee who hailed.
Within him stirred a flight of words
that sailed in pace with light of day,
to not raise arks, instead to stay
upon the drowning Earth.

>>	Anonymous Tue Aug 21 21:14:03 2018 No.11662139 No one else wants to critique or post works?

Anonymous Tue Aug 21 21:16:58 2018 No.11662151

>>11661331
This opening paragraph:

Unreal, the first animal who dreamt of another. Monstrous, the first vertebrate that managed to stand on two feet and spread terror amongst the common beasts that were still crawling, with joy and natural closeness, on the original mud. Astonishing, the first telephone call, the first boiling water, the first song, the first loincloth.

>>	Anonymous Tue Aug 21 21:18:10 2018 No.11662155 >>11662151 Not a bad idea. I'd like to know where it is leading.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 02:09:41 2018 No.11663197
File: 2.17 MB, 1602x1113, Ruhnos.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

>>11661331
I'm a dullard but that sounds very pretty.
>>11661402
>tfw when 25 yr old millennial
But in seriousness I get it, and it would resonate with many people
It's angsty but that isn't a bad thing. You know how to blow a literary load.
>>11662151
This is interesting, and something I consistently think about. Like when I was a child, and would blink 5 times, while snapping a twig, and saying pickle pickle pickle, and staring at one dark spot on a leaf knowing that I was the first human to ever do that.

That's my critique, sorry I'm not the most elaborate fella'

All my stuff is just currently world building, and preparing my short stories in a fantasy world.
Inside the pastebin is a listing of the era's, cultures, and some physical descriptions of a people inhabiting my world

https://pastebin.com/K8tRCVGZ
>Ruhnic Timeline

https://pastebin.com/C2yCkBjc
>Ruhnic Cultures

https://pastebin.com/QiRVDvLa
>Just one historical event I chose

https://pastebin.com/WiDiMvvA
>A description of men, and women from the Isle of Hyce

pic is a map I painted, and the basic timeline of the continent

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 02:58:58 2018 No.11663324 [DELETED]

the human consciousness without outside influence, without motion, unable to exhaust itself becomes a wretched festering thing, a miserly resentful mass of insecurities always swelling and bloating its foul reaches. when removed from the worlds harsh definition and surrounded by other humans it grows like a cancer, past its natural limit, being only able to see mirrors of its own image and failing to allot itself the brutal fairness of non-human essence. like we need to regularly take the gift of sleep to stem the ever encroaching tide, we also need exhaustion, solitude, and the will to impose the fierce decider of nature on ourselves, to let it define our good and bad, right and wrong, to free us from that self defined overfocus. what good is knowledge without the necessity for a practical application of wisdom, what good is thought without direction of the will? what was once the tiniest part of humanity has become in our modern over-socialised hyper sedentary stage of life almost our entire being. most modern people are completely unaware of the limits of their own capacity to struggle, that thing of highest life, that will of the heavens, that spirit and force of existence, what a wretched thing it is to be human without struggle, to define yourself based on entirely sapient fabrications and what other humans will approve of, to create your own goods and bads, rather than to commit yourself to our own pure earth. we have committed the greatest sin, destroyed our own mother nature's presence on ourselves. when the tyranny of the conscious comes to an end, the real humanity, the soul will truly soar. would you believe that the goal of most people is to have an extravagant personality? to mimic charisma not understanding its purpose in the first place. the goal should be to have no personality at all, let your actions and being define what you see as yourself, not your person by a humans definition.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 03:07:24 2018 No.11663348

I sat on my arse singing my song
Around me a crowd was gathered
"sing after me:
ne'er a silly pig didn't quickly become ate
ne'er a silly girl weren't quickly taken"

The crowd was merry and Mary
who I planned to marry
was among them merry too

But where wuz you
when Toddey did die
the moving city were still by me but you
but lame Toddey slain still
seen by Fredins before he came to the crowd
and found after 'e returned

I singo people that'was an outsider
but what's more likely:
that it was you

So make yerself ne'er again seen in these parts

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 03:07:49 2018 No.11663350

the human consciousness without outside influence, without motion, unable to exhaust itself becomes a wretched festering thing, a miserly resentful mass of insecurities always swelling and bloating its foul reaches. when removed from the worlds harsh definition and surrounded by other humans it grows like a cancer, past its natural limit, being only able to see mirrors of its own image and failing to allot itself the brutal fairness of non-human essence. like we need to regularly take the gift of sleep to stem the ever encroaching tide, we also need exhaustion, solitude, and the will to impose the fierce decider of nature on ourselves, to let it define our good and bad, right and wrong, to free us from that self defined overfocus. what good is knowledge without the necessity for a practical application of wisdom, what good is thought without direction of the will? what was once the tiniest part of humanity has become in our modern over-socialised hyper sedentary stage of life almost our entire being. most modern people are completely unaware of the limits of their own capacity to struggle, that thing of highest life, that will of the heavens, that spirit and force of existence, what a wretched thing it is to be human without struggle, to define yourself based on entirely sapient fabrications and what other humans will approve of, to create your own goods and bads, rather than to commit yourself to our own pure earth. we have committed the greatest sin, destroyed our own mother nature's presence on ourselves. when the tyranny of the conscious comes to an end, the real humanity, the soul will truly soar. would you believe that the goal of most people is to have an extravagant personality? to mimic charisma not understanding its purpose in the first place, to inflate the self to oversized proportion, the goal should be to have no personality at all, let external resistance define what you see as yourself, not your person by a humans definition.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 03:47:49 2018 No.11663441 I'm a shit writer but I occasionally try to write what I'm feeling. I guess I could share.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 04:39:25 2018 No.11663535 >>11663350 thank you anon

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 04:43:43 2018 No.11663547 >>11663535 what did you mean by this?

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 06:53:56 2018 No.11663820

>>11662151

This is interesting but a tad verbose. That second sentence could be shorter. You can just say "beasts" and maybe use a shorter word than "original" for what you're describing will the mud. The whole thing sounds cool but the rhythm is clunky because of your word choice. Try and smooth it out a bit and write more musically.

>>11663348

I didn't like this at first but after a couple reads it grew on me. I don't know how I feel about the style being so anachronisgic but the concept itself is interesting. I highly recommend using more contemporary or at least modern language to write this because what you're doing now makes it somewhat hard to follow and, as it's in a language not much in use today, people are likely to want to just read the zeniths of that style from when it was meant to be written rather than your postmodern rendition. Again, cool story, update your language.

>>11663350

I don't recommend writing philosophical ramblings until you've actually your own erudition and aren't simply regurgitating concepts that you've read. Now, I don't know if that latter is literally true but this gives me that impression. I'm sure you've your own mind in there as well but it's unnecessarily dense considering that the insights are amateur and the diction seems like it's meant to appear smarter than it is. I don't say these things to cut you down because I'm sure you've potential as a writer. Just don't get ahead of yourself with the philosophy stuff so early on in your life.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 06:55:01 2018 No.11663825 >>11663820 *Anachronistic

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 07:53:43 2018 No.11664014

This is the first piece of fiction I've written for perhaps 7 years. I'm 25. Feeling the urge to write as a hobby that could one day lead somewhere. Let me know if I'm gunna make it.

"You should have played here" he indicated with a tap on the board, "It went badly for you after this. I could have cut you straight away, but I didn't notice it till later". Rich stared closely at the goban, trying to read out the sequence Yuto wanted him to see. It was no use, he was being embarrassed. The stronger player had been toying with him all game. Blue tinted neon light fell on the board, giving a harsh edge to the otherwise soft Japanese aesthetic. The Go salon was ugly, that's for sure. An ugly small cube with a tiled office ceiling and a handful of white plastic tables, but who among the regular patrons would notice? Time spent here was time spent in another world altogether. Business men left their dull, squat offices to lose themselves in this dull, squat room. The world shrinks to a 16 by 17 inch block of wood, then expands outwards to fill a universe of its own.

"I don't know why you keep coming back", he tapped the ash off his cigarette and took a quick drag. "There is nobody your level to pair you with. You are the only gaijin who has ever walked through those doors. Maybe if we had another weak foreigner like you we wouldn't have to waste a real player's time". There it was, the final blow that came after every defeat. Rich was wasting their time. What had started as an ego boost had ended in a repeated pummelling of self worth.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:11:09 2018 No.11664058

I wrote this a few years ago after my Mum killed herself:

Still one half to sorry light,
The expired lies and sleeps
In stupor dreams she sobs
“What more is left of me?”

She pulls the blanket tighter
Will it blot the lesser years?
Can it smother extant days?
Can it scrape away the fear?

Her groping form is meek and tattered
No consequence to other passengers
The world moves through her, nothing taken,
And nothing in return

But when the eyes have opened
Too tired for finding sleep
The day has shut and the sun clambered down
Half-whispers, weak rustling in the sheets
The night miasma wafts
From a billion bleeding gutters
The will retires from a billion souls
The hum and pulse of a billion glows
Feet are feathered, curtains closed
Sunken force and force deposed

Many things hide in the dark
Many eyes damp in the dark
Many lives snuffed in the dark

She does not remember how she came to be,
And how she came to be here in this place
In shopping window glimpses and sullied water
Trapped behind a sagging face
There are the eyes of a dying child
Wilting flesh, inches gained
The strand of grey she didn’t notice
A memory unpained

Dry vision, weather weathered, turgid mind and spiteful highs
The sun spews forth its milky dregs and bleats against the sky
The jaundice wind rasps over violent men
Who approach the day like carrion
Those who beat their lives and suck them dry

They tear it from her broken throat
Neutered with a mortgage
Strung up and out on Zopiclone
They split it sixty/forty
Lament for sixty seconds
There, our work is done!

They never really think -
It’s funny how the crone that blithers sentiment
The mother whose mind has raced
Lived a life that was her own

When she shivers, I can see
That once there was once a little girl,
A gentle, pale essence,
Cast out into the world

>>11661331
Really nice. Pic related enhances the feeling even more.
>>11661402
I like the content a lot but the rhythm feels a bit bloated in later lines
>>11662151
Interesting. I want this to be the opening lines to a really engaging nonfiction book about something.
>>11663197
Only skimmed because I can't into fantasy. Looks good though
>>11663348
Unusual but pretty good
>>11663350
Good ideas, a little generically edgy, but heartfelt. Needs refinement.
>>11663441
Share
>>11664014
The writing's fine. There's only one way to know if you can make it or not.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:12:13 2018 No.11664061 >>11664058 It's the only poem I've ever properly finished. I was reading a lot of Eliot at the time, if you can't already tell.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:23:24 2018 No.11664093 Why do people do this?

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:28:36 2018 No.11664104 >>11663820 thanks for the sober response. they say that a mans intellectual faculties dont fully developed until he is 30, and some that he shouldnt even start reading philosophy until then.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:32:27 2018 No.11664116
File: 25 KB, 462x414, wip2.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

i've been recycling poems i wrote each day over the course of a few months. bring one i enjoy to the surface again, retouch it. i'm working backwards through poems i've already published for immediate critique here several poems, that i'm going back and editing while still finding new ones. eventually i'll build a doc of the collection for reevaluation once they're tighter and more well formed - until then i'll keep posting what are essential soc fragments for critique. for context, the journal i kept was a poem a day while dealing with getting sober, expect some self-loathing. dropping this here, will provide some feedback in the next post.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:32:27 2018 No.11664117

>>11664014
its ok, competently written and with some nice insights but your protag is dumb for entering into a physical go house in japan when the first thing to do for any beginner of any skill is to read up on the fundamentals and practice alone, anything else is pointless and probably done for ego (heh). dont write an idiot plot and have your protagonist be a bit more tolerable.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:41:40 2018 No.11664139

>>11664117
Thanks for the feedback. My idea going forward was that he was really more interested in chasing after the shallow approval of foreigners, like "oh you use chopsticks so well!". I don't think I'll continue it because I'm not enough of a weeb and I've never visited japan. I just wanted to quickly write about something I knew (Go).

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:48:40 2018 No.11664157

>>11661331
i like this, just the image it posits is wholesome. it's a relaxing immediate kind of hit.
>>11661402
feels lacking, in the sense that i would picture it as a sonnet, 14 lines. without a solid ending it feels more like a gaping empty it finishes into. it's not bad writing , if a little bit obviously existential longing. would read on.
>>11662151
agreed with another anon that the second line is a bit too much, could be condensed to be punchier, harder hitting. the concept i love, honestly. i've had these thoughts before, of what is original and how to attain it, how bizarre it is to be the first. would read on.
>>11663348
i admittedly have a bit of a hard on for this kind of slang slurred writing style, vocally evocative when read aloud. i feel like your meaning is out of my grasp, outside of understanding that it's about the grief beneath expression. 'ne'er a silly pig didn't quickly become ate' is fucking fantastic.
>>11663350
honestly i agree with >>11663820 here, it's not bad writing at all, it feels very 'learned' if that makes sense. all the opinions ye'v got yer wearing full heartedly on yer sleeve and it feels (even if it isn't) as if it isn't yer own, it's a result of learning rather than individual thought. i don't know what the end result of this is but it is interesting.
>>11664014
would work better as tongue in cheek darkest pits comedy - it feels a little too sincere for the absurd premise being delivered, as well as the reaching size of the experience you're describing. competently written yes, without knowing the tonal context of a full chapter i couldn't comment any further. are you going for serious or eventually comic? as a pull it's good enough for me to want at least a full chapter, if only to properly settle tone. opening sentence is a bit clunky, again not badly so. anyone can make it with work and dedication - don't let your first experience dictate your future. it's a craft like anything else.
>>11664058
i find this beautiful anon - i'm sorry for your loss, is it uncouth to ask if dementia was an issue? somewhat of a feel i got from the text. i may relate to this more because i lost someone close to me a few months ago but i do love this a lot. elegiac, a threnody almost. lovingly sorrowful.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 08:52:20 2018 No.11664170
File: 76 KB, 871x711, in progress.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

>>11664116
the first few, if anyone has the interest. missing a few in the middle i'm not fully happy with yet, some of these have been reworked since but still keen on criticism.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 09:02:50 2018 No.11664202

>>11661331
Very calming. Thank you.
>>11661402
Nice ideas, execution is so so. Just fine tune it
>>11662151
Not bad
>>11663348
Was pretty good, but the second stanza's assonance felt a bit forced
>>11663350
Edgy but I know where you're coming from. Definitely needs editing.
>>11664014
Keep practicing anon. Looks pretty ok so far. I hope you have a good story to go along with it
>>11664058
Last quatrain made me die inside a bit. I'm sorry that happened to you anon.
>>11664116
>>11664170
I like how animalistic it feels.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 09:06:17 2018 No.11664213 >>11664157 Not dementia, but she definitely wasn't all there. After Dad left us she just spiralled downward. Thanks for the praise

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 09:10:10 2018 No.11664230 >>11664213 Sorry to hear it man - your work is good if that's any consolation. please keep writing. >>11664202 thank you as well, definitely something i tried to convey

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 09:24:33 2018 No.11664278 >>11664139 if you are knowingly writing the protag to be like that then it can be good so long as its self aware.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 09:44:01 2018 No.11664348

>>11661331
this is very cute
"a few frail rays to braid" is a wonderful line.
>>11662151
"that managed to" is a bit of a colloquial construction which doesnt really fit with the rest. "who dared to" or just "who stood".
dont use "amongst" unless your british. give us some more im intrigued

>>11664170
iv is really good. not sure i understand the rest

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 10:07:09 2018 No.11664422 File: 62 KB, 1278x728, all.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] Hey here are so poems i wrote in my "poetry" phase if any one them were critiqued that'd be helpful :)

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 10:18:16 2018 No.11664454

>>11661331
Genuinely excellent shit OP, very William Carlos Williams. I would remove the first line break but that's a nitpick.

>>11661402
Sorry but these rhymes are beyond clunky, my man. Work on them or stop rhyming altogether.

>>11664014
Obviously I don't know you personally and for all I know you're Japanese, but honestly this reads like a bad weeaboo fetishization of a culture you don't actually know anything about.

>>11664116
I like IX, especially the last stanza, but the instant messaging style spelling is a bit much, maybe consider spelling everything correctly

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 10:24:31 2018 No.11664474

>>11661331
As far as I know this is the only poem I've ever written. I wrote it in Iraq after a pretty good gunfight and I couldn't understand why I felt so contented. The last time I remembered feeling like that was a long day at the beach, grilling out with friends.

The poem:
>ride the winds of Death
>never stop

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 10:38:39 2018 No.11664525

>>11664474
this is a bit edgy and unoriginal

not to disparage you from writing poetry --- write some more. your first poem will always be a bit cliche

do you read much poetry?
if not -- it sounds like youve just wrote lines that you think are poetic, rather than actually write anything in a poetic way

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 10:57:44 2018 No.11664603

From a short story.

They were chanting in low ominous tones in synchronicity as if opening a portal to another world. I felt drawn to them and the fire as I felt the outside world darken, the lush green vegetation started to fade and suddenly tendrils of smoke started to creep in, wispy grey tentacles started to slowly wrap in towards the fire from outside and it too started to darken. I could tell something wasn’t right because I hadn’t taken enough ayahuasca to lose control of my senses. I gazed around wide eyed trying to find an elder blowing smoke but I could see no one with lit pipe.

pls review excerpt

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:06:54 2018 No.11664639

>>11664603
the sentences here are really clumsily constructed. how long have you been writing -- this might just be a lack of practise

"opening portal to another world" -- this is just cliche.
also: punctuation is a bit fucked
eg "synchronicity, as if"
and it should be "darken The lush", right?

"I felt drawn to them" is ineffective -- instead "I was drawn" better yet mention the allure of the fire after you give the explanation of the allure.
in general: dont say "X because Y", say "Y, therefore X"

i could think of more problems in a bit.
basically: this is salvageable and has some nice images -- but very shoddy. post more of the story

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:17:53 2018 No.11664690

>>11664639
thank you crit

Here is some more later in the story:

I felt the pressure change in my ear and the world turned to dark, I gasped for air but it felt like there was none. I gasped again and reached for my throat but then suddenly realised I had lost control of my hands and legs. It was an abyss and I had this unmistakeable feeling I was somewhere else and I could still feel that thing if it was a thing to my left somewhere behind me. I turned around and there it was, half apparition half face, like a wolf ‘s head sinister and crooked smiling off towards the bushes, made of those greyish smoky tendrils.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:20:14 2018 No.11664699 The bony pale man Not dead yet Soon to come while masquerading I am not cold I am not cold What a lie, try to fit in with the warm That is your only hope, what a liar you are!

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:20:41 2018 No.11664702

>>11664603

more tips:
- something can't really "suddenly creep in". you might suddenly notice it creeping in, but otherwise thats a bit of a contradiction.

- you're using 1st person. that means you don't have to say "i felt this" "i could tell". you can just say it.

- i rewrote it slightly, because thats more efficient way to communicate all the changes

I rewrote it slightly:

"They had been chanting. Low ominous tones were offered in synchronicity as if to open a passage to some other world.

I was drawn to them - and that fire - expecting the outside to darken. The vegetation, once so green and vivid, began to fade away; tendrils of smoke creeped in from every direction: whispy grey tentacles which wrapped in towards the fire.
The fire too did darken.

Something wasn't right -- I hadn't taken enough ayahuasca to lose control of my senses. Which elder was blowing smoke? I glanced around but no pipe was lit."

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:31:43 2018 No.11664734

>>11664690
tips:
-again "i felt"
-repeating the "world turned dark" bit
-"suddenly" -- youre not enid blyton
-"it was an abyss" - cliche
-is it to your left or behind you?
-thing if it was a thing --- clumsy (esp. with no punctuation)

"The pressure changed in my ear (and the world dropped wholly into darkness). I gasped for air but there was none. Grasping again, I reached for my throat -- no, I could not. I had no control over my hands or my legs.

I was somewhere else, and the thing behind me remained, slightly to the left. I turned and saw it, half-apparition and half-face -- like a wolf's head smiling sinister, there in the bushes, made of grey smoke and illusion."

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:37:00 2018 No.11664759 >>11661331 Dragon corporation presents: the dragonsphere https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Od7d-ts2_KcOYWVeSNDoSKp0eZlzfcmIJhFQnWUuSiE/edit?usp=sharing

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:41:51 2018 No.11664779

>if i looked like him, i wouldn't be afraid to do what he did to me, to someone who looks like me. who's gonna stop someone like him from doing so - not someone like me. what can i do about it? not much. practically nothing. i almost deserve this. it's in the natural order of things that this should happen, really. isn't it? it's appropriate, right? not socially, or culturally, or ethically maybe... but, deeper than that, it is. genetically, it is. there's something that's different in, or about, our respective DNA.

For context, this is a snippet of a part in my story where I meant to show the reader how my character rationalized a certain important decision he's making - these are his thoughts in that moment. I'm not as much asking for a critique of what I've written (no caps because it's rough draft, fyi), but about this type of writing. What's it even called, first of all - stream of consciousness? Is such appropriate in a 1st person narrative? If this is a dumb question it's because I don't read nearly as much as I write, which I know is dumb but I'm working on that.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 11:52:27 2018 No.11664824 >>11664779 it's stream of consciousness but more in the dorothy parker sense than joyce or beckett i'd scrap "genetically" and "dna"

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:24:56 2018 No.11664935
File: 62 KB, 735x862, Short 1.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Hey, I've posted this before but here's a condensed version that I'm thinking of entering into a short fiction contest but I'm wondering if it stands up on its own - it's actually from something larger. It's 7 pages but if you wouldn't mind looking over it and letting me know what you think that'd be great, cheers

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:26:01 2018 No.11664941 File: 63 KB, 732x864, Short 2.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664935

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:27:05 2018 No.11664946 File: 61 KB, 725x861, Short 3.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664941

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:28:11 2018 No.11664950 File: 56 KB, 704x827, Short 4.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664946

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:31:48 2018 No.11664960 File: 55 KB, 704x830, Short 5.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664950

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:32:51 2018 No.11664966 File: 62 KB, 707x827, Short 6.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664960

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:34:03 2018 No.11664967 File: 59 KB, 707x823, Short 7.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664966

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:34:30 2018 No.11664970

I just wrote this because I was enjoying reading outside but had to go in because of damned mosquitos and I don't have any bug spray baka:

The cicadas hiss seduces me, my thoughts are lulled like ripples smoothed into the plain of a lake. I sail in the hypnosis of a novella and become so entranced I almost forget about the mosquito bites mottling my arm. I cannot however, and I am urged to return inside. It is a type of torture to be so eased by the whispers and wafts of a garden, the symphony of insects ringing, the caress of cool air and palm of muted sun beams on my nappy head. Only to be bullied inside the house by the devilish stabbing of mosquitos. At least it is quiet inside, and I can still hear a cricket's jingle.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:43:00 2018 No.11664990

>>11664824
>>11664824
>more in the dorothy parker sense than joyce or beckett
I don't know what that means, if you elaborate I'd appreciate it. For now I'll assume it's some sort of insult, but none the less, thanks anyway for replying and partly answering my question.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:45:09 2018 No.11664996

I messed around and wound up writing a sonnet about fat girls.

Beneath the light of noon I see you there,
Your blooming form is difficult to miss.
So soft of skin, so delicate of hair,
You are the vision of a highest bliss.

In size, in roundness, in a figure’s swell
You outstrip every lady present here.
In beauty likewise you so far excel
Both ladies far, and ladies very near.

You are the Autumn’s damsel, ripe and grown,
Full-brimmed of nectar, sweet to taste and touch.
Where others merely glinted, you have shone;
Where some were not enough, you are so much.

You are a water, turned to sweetest wine;
Like Venus ancient, you are shaped divine.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:50:11 2018 No.11665014 >>11661402 The Romantics are dead. You should join them.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:50:14 2018 No.11665015

>>11661331
[Intro]
Yuh, ooh, brr, brr
Gucci gang, ooh
(That's it right there, Gnealz)
Yuh, Lil Pump, yuh
Gucci gang, ooh
(Ooh, Bi-Bighead on the beat)
Yuh, brr

[Chorus]
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (yuh)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (ooh)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name (brr, yuh)
I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring (ooh)
Rather go and buy Balmains (brr)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (huh?)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (brr)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name, yuh (yuh, yuh)
I can't buy no bitch no wedding ring, ooh (nope)
Rather go and buy Balmains, ayy (brr)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

[Verse]
My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (it do)
Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (brr)
Still slangin' dope in the 'jects, huh? (yeah)
Me and my grandma take meds, ooh (huh?)
None of this shit be new to me (nope)
Fuckin' my teacher, call it tutoring (yuh)
Bought some red bottoms, cost hella Gs (huh?)
Fuck your airline, fuck your company (fuck it!)
Bitch, your breath smell like some cigarettes (cigarettes)
I'd rather fuck a bitch from the projects (yuh)
They kicked me out the plane off a percocet (brr)
Now Lil Pump flyin' private jet (yuh)
Everybody scream, "Fuck WestJet" (fuck 'em)
Lil Pump still sell that meth (yuh)
Hunnid on my wrist, sippin' on Tech (brr)
Fuck a lil bitch, make her pussy wet (what?)

[Chorus]
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang) Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (huh?)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (yuh)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name (brr)
I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring (huh?)
Rather go and buy Balmains (yuh)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)
Spend three racks on a new chain (huh?)
My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (brr)
I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name, yuh (yuh)
I can't buy no bitch no wedding ring, ooh (nope)
Rather go and buy Balmains, ayy (huh?)
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:51:48 2018 No.11665021

>>11664990
>For now I'll assume it's some sort of insult
what the fuck haha
no it's not an insult.

in her short stories she might write like this:
https://dickatlee.com/poetry/pdfs/waltz_dorothy_parker.pdf

compared to joyce
https://archive.org/stream/MollyBloomMonologEnd/MollyBloomMonologhyEnd_djvu.txt

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:54:35 2018 No.11665029 >>11664474 If you had any talent you wouldn't have joined the military.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:55:40 2018 No.11665034
File: 61 KB, 868x690, erotic bit.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Can someone critique this erotica scene? Is it effective?
It's necessary to the larger story but I'd still want it to be erotic to the reader. I've never written with that aim though so not sure.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 12:56:56 2018 No.11665039 >>11665029 you aint ever heard of warrior-poet, son? almost every male poet of the 20th century fought in a war you slag i mean, the poems very cliche (and not really a poem) but thats not the point

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 13:01:10 2018 No.11665059 >>11665039 That's because almost every male of those generations fought in a war

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 13:19:37 2018 No.11665121 File: 585 KB, 774x774, 1438274213136870052.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11665059 >mfw when I go peepee on military man graves

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 13:55:37 2018 No.11665264 >>11665034 basically, i can make the writing more sharp, just want to know how to make writing actually arousing

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 13:58:02 2018 No.11665272 >>11665264 >to tap at three on the lips Nice Lolita ripoff bro

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 14:00:46 2018 No.11665285 >>11665272 allusion. everyone and their aunt knows the opening paragraph of lolita

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 14:10:24 2018 No.11665320

>>11665285
>Repurpose a famous line
>It's an allusion!
OK man...

It's a weird writing style and kinda overwrought - I sort of see the effect you were going for but there's something a bit passionless about it, the formality and control just stop it being sensual or erotic. I think this is in part down to the narrator seemingly treating it as a battle or a game. If this was illuminating something about the character at large (dominating, treats women as conquests, maybe a narcissist) then fine, but if you genuinely want it to feel erotic then I think you'd have to ditch the perspective you've taken here. I also don't get the strange shift between quite purple prose, causality, and Jacobean stuff - just disorientating and I'm not sure what purpose it serves

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 14:11:05 2018 No.11665322 >>11664422 y surpine?

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 14:19:44 2018 No.11665372

>>11665320
it is supposed to be a sort of "game". ie: that the playful wrestling ends in mere physical domination, and he wants to control her desires as well.

so the narrator should be less "in control" maybe focus less on his thoughts and more on the physicality eg: the wrestling?

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 14:23:07 2018 No.11665405 >>11665322 sorry that must be a spelling mistake

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 14:58:51 2018 No.11665589 >>11665264 too erotic... innuendo is funny, collapsing that innuendo isn't

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 15:10:09 2018 No.11665653 >>11665589 how can you innuendo an entire sex scene?

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 15:11:19 2018 No.11665661 >>11665653 are you kidding me? it's totally doable. You're already like 80% there

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 15:21:16 2018 No.11665700 >>11665653 >>11665661 Oh I see now that you want to make things actually arousing. Avoid words like "cock" and "cunt," they totally conflict with the dancing around the issue that can be productive of both erotic and comedic thrill.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 15:24:57 2018 No.11665719 >>11665700 all ive read is anis nin. she uses "penis", and "sex" for "vagina" but i think that might sound a bit dated. i dont want to do any "bulbous salutation" noun-phrases for penis

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 15:26:39 2018 No.11665732 >>11665719 you don't have to, just make em funny. can you not think of humorous slang terms for genitals? I promise you there are innumerably many

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 15:32:43 2018 No.11665760 >>11665732 pinkish protrusion meat-fist cum-cumber

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 15:35:57 2018 No.11665777

The only poetry I have ever written. The second poem was written several years before the first and third, and before I was even a reader of literature and poetry.

(1)
Beautiful dog standing in the doorway,
portal to swaying stalks and slice of sea.
Copper-blonde coat swirling with
white; imperious brown-eyed sphinx,
waiting for a partner to sleep on the
splintered deck. The moment stretches to
ask to be balled and stuffed in a gooey
valve. Light trickles through the shadowed curtains,
to rotate back into wiry line of void.

(2)
Here comes the bitter mercenary,
who wades through the swamp of arms, legs, and teeth.
He stumbles often. He looks into the blank eyes of each one.
We watched the fire burn in the distance. The flames engulfed the
desert sky. We hadn't seen the sun set since Keskese.

We wandered for years, crossing each dune
thinking the next might be the last. The gaze of the sun taunted us.
The emptiness of the white sand warned us about the end.
There is no philosophy of the octave, only math. He said one ounce of jasmine
was enough for two prayers. We prayed twice for a gust of wind.

He told each of us not to beware of the men we can make out geometrically.
His life was his lute. His lute was his loot. His loot was his life. He is the bitter mercenary.
The equinox of the eastern light reminded us all of Narcissus.
We all push the shovel into the ground, we all wish to find gold, we never find it. Except for them. And them.
We found him lying in his own waste in the valley of Nowherenearhere.
We all realized that summer that staring into the sun too long can change your mind.

(3)
Death is a flower:
so I unsheathe my skin like
a wilting lily.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 16:00:54 2018 No.11665874 >>11665760 whatever, you don't understand

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 16:18:00 2018 No.11665962 File: 267 KB, 401x447, pacino_amazed.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11665777 >and before I was even a reader of literature and poetry Well, color me amazed.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 17:32:52 2018 No.11666318 File: 658 KB, 1600x900, wild-strawberries-movie-seven.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664935 >>11664941 >>11664946 >>11664950 >>11664960 >>11664966 >>11664967 Anyone?

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 17:49:00 2018 No.11666390 [DELETED]

Willem was combing his silver with hair extreme care after he got up from his silken bed sheets. The room’s atmosphere was heavy and Willem could still hear the breezing wind outside accompanied by the screeches of seagulls, ramming against the closed porthole. He put out the burning incense and took a small glass from the table below the mirror and filled it with some white wine from the barrel that the Captain gifted them the night before. "It shall be enough to make my stay in Nikelshagen somewhat bareable – unless Aedan drinks it all". Willem swallowed it all in one big gulp and then stared at the painting below a wooden arch; just above the same bed he slept in. It pictured a galleon with white and red sails and a magnificent woman raising her hand carved into the stern. Men and women of all ages stationed on a tower raised their hands at the departing ship, and the men on the deck waved back. "The Duchess’ maiden voyage, that must be it.:
From the little time he spent with the captain it seemed that the Duchess was built at the shipyard of Nikelshagen, although Rennek himself came from one of the islands they passed through during their trek across the gulf. “What are you doing up so early?” he heard a sleepy voice say. "I must have woke her up." The girl stretched her arms under the silken sheets and yawned loudly. “Don’t you see? I’m having my breakfast” he said and smiled to her, as he filled his glass once more. Rosalinda got up and used a barrette to hold her blonde hair back and then moved towards the window.“

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 17:51:27 2018 No.11666399 [DELETED]

Willem was combing his silver hair extreme care after he got up from his silken bed sheets. The room’s atmosphere was heavy and Willem could still hear the breezing wind outside accompanied by the screeches of seagulls, ramming against the closed porthole. He put out the burning incense and took a small glass from the table below the mirror and filled it with some white wine from the barrel that the Captain gifted them the night before. It shall be enough to make my stay in Nikelshagen somewhat bareable – unless Aedan drinks it all. Willem swallowed it all in one big gulp and then stared at the painting below a wooden arch; just above the same bed he slept in. It pictured a galleon with white and red sails and a magnificent woman raising her hand carved into the stern. Men and women of all ages stationed on a tower raised their hands at the departing ship, and the men on the deck waved back. The Duchess’ maiden voyage, that must be it.
From the little time he spent with the captain it seemed that the Duchess was built at the shipyard of Nikelshagen, although Rennek himself came from one of the islands they passed through during their trek across the gulf. “What are you doing up so early?” he heard a sleepy voice say. I must have woke her up. The girl stretched her arms under the silken sheets and yawned loudly. “Don’t you see? I’m having my breakfast” he said and smiled to her, as he filled his glass once more. Rosalinda got up and used a barrette to hold her blonde hair back and then moved towards the window.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 17:54:08 2018 No.11666407

Willem was combing his silver hair extreme care after he got up from his silken bed sheets. The room’s atmosphere was heavy and Willem could still hear the breezing wind outside accompanied by the screeches of seagulls, ramming against the closed porthole. He put out the burning incense and took a small glass from the table below the mirror and filled it with some white wine from the barrel that the Captain gifted them the night before. "It shall be enough to make my stay in Nikelshagen somewhat bareable – unless Aedan drinks it all." he thought. Willem swallowed it all in one big gulp and then stared at the painting below a wooden arch; just above the same bed he slept in. It pictured a galleon with white and red sails and a magnificent woman raising her hand carved into the stern. Men and women of all ages stationed on a tower raised their hands at the departing ship, and the men on the deck waved back. "The Duchess’ maiden voyage, that must be it."
From the little time he spent with the captain it seemed that the Duchess was built at the shipyard of Nikelshagen, although Rennek himself came from one of the islands they passed through during their trek across the gulf. “What are you doing up so early?” he heard a sleepy voice say. "I must have woke her up." he thought. The girl stretched her arms under the silken sheets and yawned loudly. “Don’t you see? I’m having my breakfast” he said and smiled to her, as he filled his glass once more. Rosalinda got up and used a barrette to hold her blonde hair back and then moved towards the window.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 20:52:44 2018 No.11667222
File: 21 KB, 624x571, shit digger.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

I never posted on /lit/ before but I recently wrote a poetry book which was originally meant for myself only but I decided to share it with people, and would like some thoughts. Here's one of the poems from it.

Anonymous Wed Aug 22 21:00:53 2018 No.11667248

“Hey.” A whisper Jamie opted to ignore.

“Hey!” A slightly louder whisper and a finger tapping him several times on the shoulder followed.

He slowly turned over to find the Princess looking at him intently. “What?”

“It’s bloody freezing in here. Is there no form of temperature control in this place?” Caitlin said.

“What do you suppose I should do?” Jamie asked. “Force a pair of dwarves to upend-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant, don’t be obtuse, just...” Eye contact was lost. “If you tell anyone about this, I will have you executed at dawn for the whole Kingdom to see.”

Jamie smirked. “And what did you have in mind?”

Caitlin Faraday looked as if she had been informed she was to shortly undergo anesthetic free teeth removal in the middle of a busking competition.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be so awful if you...put your arms around me. So we could huddle up for warmth. And nothing else.”

The smirk blossomed into an ear-to-ear smile. “For you, my Princess? Anything.”

The Princess scooted over, so Jamie put one arm around her shoulder and the other around the back of her neck. He felt more than a bit apprehensive about holding her, let alone touching her, especially considering Caitlin was extremely warm and had a curiously Earthly smell to her. Not like dirt or something repulsive, but the intensely familiar smell of blossoming flowers and the serenity of nature. Jamie’s chest tightened and he wondered if she could feel his heart thumpathumpathumpa.

“I’m not made of glass, Christiansen.”

He looked down at her. “Is everything alright?”

She rolled her eyes. “I give you permission to actually hold on to me, not what you’re doing right now, whatever it is.”

Caitlin had a point; his fingers were barely touching her frame, as if the slightest misstep on his part would shatter her. To try and remedy her discomfort, he more fully wrapped one arm around her neck and another around her waist, delicately pulling her closer to him.

“Is this better?” He asked, his voice not being nearly as steady as he hoped.

“Better.”

His honor would never allow him to indulge his true desires, but he was happy enough with their current standing. It was a strange thought, but he couldn’t deny there was something exceptionally endearing about having the ferocious, tough-as-steel warrior princess cuddled up next to him in her evening wear. One didn’t need precognitive abilities to determine that she preferred to keep people at arm’s length, so he considered this something of a milestone to have reached this side of her. Sure, she dispensed insults like they were linked to some sort of plague, but he got the sense she enjoyed his company far more than she would ever willingly admit.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Princess,” Jamie said. “Did you dye your hair?”

No response beyond her breathing. He let his head rest on top of hers, and he was asleep.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 21:41:29 2018 No.11667406 Post critique

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 21:52:55 2018 No.11667460 >>11661331 It actually is a masturbation session for me. I enjoy jacking off to the things you guys post.

>>	Anonymous Wed Aug 22 23:06:04 2018 No.11667803 Did nothing today First I woke up Pitied myself to the cusp of enjoyment Lapsed into a wide breath of effacement And turned around- still on my bed To find my crumpled drapes had Found my flesh clothlike.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 01:37:29 2018 No.11668405
File: 79 KB, 750x800, 1534982365663.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

This poem is about being a ghost

Creeping under the wooden broken boards
Lying the the walls, coming out at night
Homes switch from mansions to the mental ward.
Nocturnal existence, I hate the light!

How do you like the first stanza of my sonnet??????

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 02:53:32 2018 No.11668567 >>11668405 your not a gost

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 03:19:40 2018 No.11668624 >>11668567 I am a gost tho Also >>11668405 Lying in the walls*

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 03:31:25 2018 No.11668650 Inspired by China Mievillew and his critique of Tolkien, I wrote this: >>11665178 >>11665185

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 03:50:12 2018 No.11668683

>>11667803

I enjoy the title of the poem as its first line, as well as the third line. It rung true of boredom and self-defeatism.

The word effacement is kinda weird to me, because it ties the poem to the process of birth, and I'm not sure that's what you intended, as this doesn't seem to be nearly that kind of work. Perhaps I am missing a metaphorical or aesthetic resonance between being wrapped in drapes and being a newborn, which would be intersting, but for now comes across as accidental.

The last line comes across pretty awkward to me too, clothlike doesn't approximate it enough. Besides, the meaning of the line loses me when I read the previous line. Do the drapes find your flesh like a cloth? What is that supposed to imply? Are you becoming part of the bedroom? When did the drape acquire protagonism and perspective?

It elicits too many questions for it to be worth it, is what I think I'm saying. Also the "find-found" aliteration seems accidental, and awkward.

That being said, enjambment was appropriate, stylistically consistent, not overly ambitious but fairly straight forward. Keep writing anon, you're on the right track.

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 03:52:21 2018 No.11668689 File: 64 KB, 1080x1379, 39981893_311965686047265_8135114709452980224_n.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11668683 This is my piece, tell me what you think.

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 05:37:31 2018 No.11668871 >>11668689 hot garbage

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 05:56:06 2018 No.11668900 The laws of nature hold over those in the domain of nature; as sure as there is law, there is judgment and punishment. On trial in front of all the forest, a makeshift gavel thumped against a tree stump, and Deer had surely been sentenced to death.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 06:17:21 2018 No.11668938

>>11665029
>hemingway and vonnegut and mailer and o'brien and wright and jones were all talentless
You're one of those fags that breaks out into an envious, vaginal, menstrual, ragey sweat when standing next to a man an inch taller than you, aren't you?

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 06:23:34 2018 No.11668947 >>11667803 thx rupi

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 06:31:46 2018 No.11668965 In the land of a thousand assholes by the house of the swinging tit laid a chinese maiden by the name of Hoo Flung Shit

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 06:51:00 2018 No.11669007

>>11661331
Hoping to make this into a simple song in celebration of my 21st birthday coming up next month.
I'm hoping to have it sound something like St. James Infirmary Blues. It'd sound different, but I'm hoping it'll have the same tone.
I haven't written in a long time and this is just a first draft, so I don't expect anyone to see it as prefect
I mainly want to know if the words would flow well in a song-like format:

I go through those bar doors for the first time
Entering a world I can’t comprehend
For this is a special day of mine
Of when my childhood ends

Lived with emotional rags alone but free
Entered the winter weather 3 seasons too fast
Mike Jack and Margaret are here for me
But give me some friends that are here to last

Lord give me a house built somewhere friendly
A optimistic pal that’s always there
Bring me a Fiery Audrey-Betty Lady
And help us raise a family with care

When I’m done drinking help me get these lovely things
Don’t care if it takes one year or ten
But hopefully these will make me happy
So I’ll never have to step foot in here again

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 10:46:29 2018 No.11669713
File: 3.68 MB, 3840x2160, sunset.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

looking for an edit, I'm a non native - be gentle...or don't:

Soul mates are so 90’s! Or are they still in demand? Are we still on the hunt for the big thing, or do most of our relationships end with an orgasm, albeit a good one? Some thirty-something confess whether they’re still searching for love, and why do they screw up when they actually find one.

When Anna's then-seventeen-year-old grandmother went dancing, little she knew about penis.Shocked, Anna almost swallow her spoon at lunch, when she heard granny’s story about her first penis-memory: At a village dance, granny saw that there was something poking from grandad’s gallows between his legs, and she (naturally) assumed it was “just a packet of almonds he hid there.”
On the other hand, my grandmother was already married at the age of 16, and her first son was born a year on.She spent the rest of her life living monogamously with my granddad.
Perhaps we could agree that, compared to today's seventeen-year-olds and their sexual know-how, the dynamics of our generation has changed.It also appears to be a precursor of understanding of the very meaning of the word "monogamy". Monogamy once meant one partner for life.Today people proudly declare: “I am monogamous in all my relationships.” “The female body has been demonized for years. A mention of clitoris? God forbid,” says Lucy, 31 years old. “Until now, we had to suppress our sexuality, though suddenly we are talking about our orgasms and how to improve them. Maybe we do not do it more often compared to the past, but we are certainly more obvious. We are all animals,” she laughs.Through the shift of the powerful function of marriage and family in the society, our relationships have transformed. “The dilemmas stay the same, but now it's no longer the case of risking poverty and ousting by cheating on your husband,” says Jane, “women can actually afford to risk their marriage. So the number of people who can harmlessly swap one relationship for another has actually increased by 50% - with women coming on board.”Are we promiscuous?
“Hardly anyone can do monogamy these days, even if they wanted to,” says Jeremy, who’s 30. He thinks marriage somehow robbed a few of his male friends of their “manhood”. According to him, jokes about non-existent sex with your wife do not come “out of the blue” at all, and the midlife crisis is epidemic.Jeremy is currently maintaining two open relationships, plus, keeping one additional “harbour” outside of town. Once or twice a year, whenever he travels to his home in Wales, he visits a girlfriend to have sex. It is a tradition that has been going on for nine years. She is mostly in relationships, and her partners do not know about it. Jeremy likes her it his own way, but the relationship itself is not worth it, he says. They have not much to talk about afterwards.

cont.>>>>

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 10:54:58 2018 No.11669753
File: 3.13 MB, 3840x2160, night.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

>>11669713

Jeremy thinks it’s mostly women who propose exclusivity and want to have “the talk”, even in their (at first) non-binding relationship models.
Somewhat older Joseph, who is currently enjoying the benefits of Tinder, also supports the idea that each woman has something specific about her, and it would be nice to have them all without reproach. Joseph notoriously entertains his work colleagues with stories from his online-dating frolics. He says that since the invention of Tinder, he has been surfing on "the waves of vaginal juices." Joseph’s preferences? All women on his list must apparently meet two criteria: "Have a vagina and heartbeat."
However, the walk through the “human flesh market” is not that easy. There is certain ranking system in place: that of popularity, multitude of choice, and especially your ability to curb a completely natural human instinct of jealousy. Let's just remember our childhood. How we jumped at other kids when they took our toy and established our own justice, as long as our parents did not intervene.
The need to be exclusive is something that even serial daters struggle with occasionally. On the other hand, dating websites offer immediate compensation for all members of the Hurt Ego Club: Did they not want you? Never mind. Check a few new profiles. There is plenty of fish in the sea.
"Yes, it is shallow, but comforting – it’s certain reassurance that there are still girls out there who potentially want me and who would appreciate me," grins Joseph.
Thirty-three-year-old Amy describes two almost identical experiences, when she proposed sex to her new acquaintances at a party after a short flirt, which, in both cases worked as an immediate anti-aphrodisiac. “They simply could not do it after I said I just wanted casual sex,” recalls Amy. “But then, funnily, one of them was texting me for weeks - like he was in love.”
Hana, who is 32, had the same experience: “It sometimes scares them off when they hear it straight.”
Hana thinks that women can emasculate men by this behaviour, take their opportunity to have the upper hand in the game. “It's as if the mouse drew the cat into a corner,” Hana thinks. “Men are still hunters by nature, although it seems that most of them appreciate the emancipation, or even expect to be picked up.”
Twenty-six-year-old Viktor, however, feels that the physical activity of both sexes is now more or less in equilibrium and is conditioned by opportunities, like everything else. There are studies that show that in a community where there are fewer guys, a one-off, casual sex culture will dominate, otherwise most men will adapt to the feminine conditions of a longer cajole. This can be observed, for example, at university campuses.
Spoiled rotten by choice
Finding the right one is a dilemma of many.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 10:56:56 2018 No.11669763
File: 6 KB, 276x183, shopweb.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

>>11669753
Many think that the prospectus of a soul mate is a surpassed model of the nineties, and there are several mates walking around in this world with whose souls we could be compatible.
However, the search for the “right ones” gets complicated: the dynamics of our relationships and interactions have changed not only with the mushrooming dating apps, but naturally also by migrating to big cities. Today we don’t have a “mere choice” of two-three suitors, but dozens of candidates at hand. Just by grabbing it by balls, hammering the app, swiping between profiles, crushing a galore of social events, or even by traveling – meeting new people is a piece of cake.
“Sometimes I go to the grocery shop to get yoghurt and there are so many types that it frustrates me to that extend, I come out without buying one,” says Eva. “I believe it’s easier if there is one with strawberries and one is plain, you pick one and are happy. Now, there are forty-four flavours. And that is precisely how the whole thing with our relationships evolved,” concludes Eva.
With a great choice, there comes a great paralysis. The idea of making a wrong picks stresses us, and we suffer more from decision-making when no one can guarantee how our choice would turn out. In German it is called Qual der Wahl (suffering of a choice). Whether we have chosen correctly can still hunt us a long time after the “selection” has been made, especially when the first obstacles emerge.
The problem is that by choosing a partner we want to be sure ... and it is very difficult to trust oneself in something, the outcome of which we do not decide ourselves.
The carousel keeps spinning also because people have a little time nowadays: little time for themselves and for love. “It's such fake times we live in - often for one night, no emotions in play,” says Lucy bitterly.
In addition to a (mostly) pleasant physical act, we are especially after an ego massage, attention, the feeling of validation, the assurance that we are attractive to someone who would listen, even for a while.
Independent sex is also about novelty, rebellion, excitement, and the ability to surprise. “When you know what to expect, and what you can not expect (a relationship), then your sex gets tired and you are back in the game, your eyes peeled for more,” says Hana. She does not believe that sexual relationships last long, as they are never just about some special techniques in bed.
The sex, which is just about sex, has the shortest expiration date from all models out there. It's not namely as comfortable in reality as watching a porn movie is, where one simply shuts the laptop afterwards.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 10:59:28 2018 No.11669773

>>11669763

The other person is still sitting on the bed and somehow, a conversation is expected.
“People around me sleep around with anyone who comes along, and I think they often do not look inside,” Eva thinks. Some, according to her, are fighting solitude and just do not care to see what is under the surface, and so they pretend they take it easy – this whole “thing”. “”Everything is OK! Let's be happy for that one weekend!”” Eve gestures. “But even if you go on a date with this person, you have dinner and drinks, it's still a mini-relationship in its own way – like an imitation of what you could do and often wanted to do regularly.”
Victor thinks we are simply afraid to invest in feelings.
We do not want to risk someone hurting us, risk we would end up wanting more with no reciprocity, risk to be left in the rain with all the feelings in our chest that got there without our permission.
“I fall in love with every woman I sleep with,” admits Victor. “Maybe it's in my nature to look for something good in every person, or maybe I'm so lonely, so I'm easy to get attached,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. Once a date he really liked did not like him back.
That hurts the ego: “I'm maybe not as cool as I thought,” he smirked. “Why didn’t she call? What do I know? Maybe I sucked so badly in bed…but maybe I’m just telling that to myself. Being bad in bed is something that can be technically improved, while it's a bit harder to get better on other fronts.”
A crash course for romance

„There is auniversal benchmark for the depth of your feelings: it is measured by your willingness to suffer or sacrifice something for them,“ thinks Victor. „That's why sometimes elderly people think our generation is empty, because we often miss the big family units and those strong bonds that would hold us somewhere with someone.“
Without a bigger prerequisite to create a bond (when one leaves, the other one is sorry), the short-term acquaintances mean definitely some added value, but little they have in common with our old parents' models. At the same time, when we see old people in the streets holding hands, most of us get emotional. At least we are ready to take their picture for the Instagram.
Eve always needed to feel there was at least a chance that she could fall in love in order to have sex with someone. “My feelings are interconnected with sex. If I disconnect them, I would feel emotionally exhausted. I'm a romantic soul and I do not try to change anything about it.”
Eve’s not alone sticking to a theory that it pays off to miss on burgers, when instead you could eat a steak.
According to a 38-year-old Veronica, a relationship must have a romantic naivety. “The one when you see through pink glasses, in the name of which you board a plane, even if your loved one was on the other side of the globe. Otherwise, it's nothing.”

>> cont.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 11:00:32 2018 No.11669778

>>11669773

Ivy, who is thirty-three, joins the dreamer's club saying she can skip having sex even for years. Regardless of the “leniency” of these times, to have sex, her knees have to get weak and her heart must be beating loud.
“And that's rare,” she says. “I don’t have to have someone” just for sex, says Ivy, although people around her ask her that quite often. I do not judge anyone, there are libidos of all kinds, but until I get red in the face looking at someone, there is not a chance for anything to happen.”
Jane, for example, discovered the purpose of monogamy, since she has, paradoxically, found her lover. “Why? Because one thing impacts and hurts the other - even if my husband did not know about it, I paid less attention to him,” explains Jane. She understands why people want to be faithful, otherwise they deprive others of the much needed emotions and affection – it’s a law of equilibrium. “I tried to compensate for it, but it is not always possible. We all give out energy to people around us - emotionally, physically - and ideally, we also get it back.” However, Jane realised she only had a certain amount of supplies she was able to give and divide. This amount is limited with our time and the number of people it goes to. To say it bluntly: Quantity goes to the detriment of quality. It’s mathematically logical.
Love cannot be mistaken for something else, Ivy, Eve and Veronica are convinced. But isn’t the blush in the face and the pink veil we look through only purged hormone oxytocin or serotonin? How can we be sure?
Simply, you could say. The instinct is infallible. The right one is, of course, someone who is beautiful on the inside and the outside, someone who makes you feel good.
We do not really think about the role played by love stories in our lives, the ones we are being fed from our early childhood, like Cinderella to start with, thinks Alain de Botton, a writer and philosopher. Nearly all of these stories focus on the turbulent beginnings of a relationships when a couple gets intimate, until after they overcame all obstacles in their way, they will fall into each other’s arms.
Moreover, these love stories give way little importance to our professions, stressful jobs that bring conflicts, as well as they tend to ignore the education of our children. In romantic stories children usually don’t cry, they take minimum of our time and are generally cute and smart.
De Botton thinks we learned to assess our hopes and expectations from our partners according to the merits of the works of art: movies and love songs. Compared to a perfect book romance, however, our relationships look like a joke: crumpled, inadequate, unsatisfactory.
The Romantic concept leaves very little air to the real thing: the tolerance of the other. It is easy to fall in love, but true heroism, and many people would also say "true love", is to really stay with someone even when times are bad.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 11:00:37 2018 No.11669779

>>11668683
To answer this-

Effacement is used for its root in the french word Effacer, which has a distinctive ring of casual, prosaic dissapearence.

The find-found alliteration is intended and reaches out to flesh and clothlike, not holding meaning I just thought it pleasent.

The last line is the point of the whole thing- the inanimate objects finding in my lazy self something kin to them both makes me less animate and it more animate.

About your poem, I enjoyed it in, quite funny and well written. Lacks substance to a degree- needs more subtleties and ambiguities, more power.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 11:02:04 2018 No.11669783

>>11669778

Our partner is everything - and that is the problem

“So when we come across the right one in the pile of the “non-right ones” and we take the hasty decision to stop the quest – since our new object of affection is so fascinating, they made us stop looking – it’s a moment with a big "M": someone becomes our priority,” says psychotherapist Esther Perel.
From this moment on, our discovery will face a grand test. According to Perel, probably never before in the history there were such demands on romantic partners as they are today. From our objects of love, for whom we gave up our freedom, we require the same things a whole community used to offer to an individual before: be my best friend, my intellectually equal, a great parent, a passionate lover, a smart co-economists in the household and an entertaining companion when we are out. I expect I will never feel alone with you anymore, that you will always be beautiful and funny, give me stability and you will build something with me, but at the same time you will give me a sense of adventure and new inspiration, mystery and excitement...
Only the last two criteria - security and unpredictability - totally contradict each other, thinks Perel.
Nobody in the world can meet all of our requirements; it's the trap we've prepared for ourselves. Expecting for something like that to happen is a logical recipe for total failure.
So, when chemistry goes away with time, and we start slowly and unwillingly reach into our more or less full storage tanks of compromise, we gradually begin to peak over the neighbour’s fence with a naturally greener grass. Maybe we just chose badly, and the right one has been our neighbour all the time ... How could have we been so blind?
And the cycle starts again...
The grass is always greener on the other side, unless we water our own grass…

Perhaps we should watch more stories that normalise our stumbles, and rather give each other more instructions on solutions of the real problems with our imperfections. The monogamous love marathon we signed up for deliberately is not just honey. Today, we live much longer than we once did. “Since it is relatively easy to jump the ship in our relationships at any time we please, we could maybe admit to ourselves that if our partner goes astray once or twice during our thirty-fifty years of common living, he is actually pretty good at monogamy,” laughs Esther Parel. There are more people in the world who we can love than people who we can practically live with.
But how can we be sure if it’s still worth it?
But why do we want to be sure? We can only find out through our own research with time. With openness and curiosity, advises Perel. We're trying to get rid of anxiety stemming from the absence of our control ... but that is not possible.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 11:03:22 2018 No.11669789

>>11669783

The sooner we reconcile with it, the better for us.
However, there is consolation: we do know certain things safely. That we are excited to meet, that we feel good in a hug, that we can keep our mouth shut with someone and feel nice, that we can forget time when we speak to each other... Everyone has a list of those.
Maybe we should not analyse so much (as I am in this article) and go for a walk instead. Take someone’s hand; give him or her a kiss. Even though we are upset or sulking right now... maybe even a tiny concession of our unrealistic dream of the perfect love would be the most romantic thing we have done for ourselves and for our loved ones.
Whatever I would write here about love and what it means for people today, it’d be just words. Even our ancestors did not quite know how to figure it out. They came up with something like this:
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
(Hamlet)
Something like that.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 11:07:17 2018 No.11669803

Behold the first
The essence of hatred and fury
I am my straining flesh, blood and bone
And this shell that I command sovereign
Shall do my bid as I resent all
I am what tears apart my sanity
What arises from inside and ignites outward
The urge to destroy and rip apart
The lives, the flesh, the material
The rabid destroyer and reason’s end
One to end all
One to erase the self

Behold the second
The essence of fear and pain
I am my feeble mind and thoughts
For pain is what chains and stunts
And teaches cowardice
Abyssal pit of emptiness
Pallid kingdom of suffering
Which demands submission
Which feeds and gorges on grief
Which culls all hope and suffocates
One to obscure all
One to chain the self

Behold the third
The essence of helpless regret
I am my remorse and weakness
The chains and memories of past
The vicious thorns inside my skull
Errors etched upon esoteric flesh
The haunting specter of time
Who forever reminds
Who never subsides
Who torments ‘till death
One to diminish all
One to blind the self

Behold the fourth
The essence of apathy
I am my hollow vacuity
The grief and love and life around me
So close yet worlds away
And as they gaze into me, await
I stare back and remain
And I cannot feel them
Forever empty
Forever frozen
Forever detached
One to distance all
One to preserve the self

Behold the fifth
The essence of vanity
I am my gorging introspection
Arrogant, sneering atop the world
The leech retching poisoned blood
Immaculate visage of pride
Selfishness of divinity
Eternally craving
Eternally eating
Eternally frothing
One to absorb all
One to adore the self

Beholden the final
The essence of I
The one to envelop all
The one to suffer the self

illiterate Thu Aug 23 11:25:20 2018 No.11669869

>>11663350
couldn't finish. not terrible. almost reminiscent of Karl Ove but a bit more verbose and unbelievable. I would re-format into paragraphs. I just feel like...not much is being said. Karl will write like this but every time I get it, he's quick to the point while being long-winded and descriptive, and you, well, are not.

>>11664014
but the period within the quotation marks in that first line. "was being embarrassed" can be exchanged for "was embarrassed." use present tense. be active in your writing, not passive or retrospective. keep going, keep writing. it's not a bad start but not enough substance yet.

>>11664058
i'm not into poetry but this doesn't seem that great. kind of choppy and inconsistent in places. i'm sorry for your loss, and this is sweet of you to write if you shared this around to family but it's a bit too all over the place for me.

>>11664603
err on the side of using multiple sentences rather than multi-clausal single sentences

>>11664935
Man, you cannot expect us to review ALL of that. post excerpts. if you want a review of a 2000+ word piece post it on /r/destructivereaders or something. However, I read the intro and it's pretty good. I would suggest stylistic changes to make it a bit more modern looking, since, after all, it's modern-reading. for instance, "firstly;" is anachronistic compared to, say, "first," which omits the pause. your style of writing does not suit pauses well. keep the reader going, like DFW would. Submit this to a contest, it reads fine on first glance. But jesus I've never seen something so long posted in one of these threads.

>>11667222
bad

>>11667248
"shortly undergo" is the wrong phrase here. I think you mean to say "undergo shortly" or "soon undergo". but otherwise this is pretty good. I encourage you to continue.

>>11669713
didn't get far. pretty weird to me. all the penis talk is kind of bleh.

if anyone wants to critique my stuff, i have fiction posted here:

>www.larthurhunt.com/fiction/

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 11:34:42 2018 No.11669907

>>11661331
The beginning of a book I plan on completing.

I had never been a true man. I had seen true men, I had admired true men, but never had I been one myself. Do not think that this was my intention, do not judge me for the falsehood that was my manhood. Do not scrutinise my failure, do not shut the door, do not leave me in the shivering cold like some pariah. I am not a leper, to be treated with contempt and hatred. I am a man, a man that has overcome the greatest of impediments, a champion, come to tell his tale, in hope of helping those who need it. I seek no sympathy, nor pity derived succour. This is not the tale of my ignorance, nor that of whom ever inflicted me with that deep corruption of the manly soul. This is the tale of a rebirth, of revelation and most importantly, rejuvenation.

Before I recite my journey from weasel to wolf, I must first establish the life of the weasel, the young, emasculated boy of a bookish and bashful disposition.

To describe with the most exact and precise accuracy, my state of physical well-being would be a young man of eighteen, middling height, with an ill complexion and a body of the solitary soul, never daring to venture from the isolated realm consisting of an amalgamation of books and constant nervousness, a nervousness consonant with a mind that masked its own unwavering cowardice with that profuse facade of the nonchalant philosopher, with little care for the vast wilderness that was public life and society of the land he called home.

My family was a motley bag of various characters, all of which contributed to my early ignorance and also to my eventual rejuvenation to a state of higher being. I have always loved my family, perhaps too much. Can one love those who gave him life too much? Maybe not, maybe sons should dedicate their lives to the glorification of their forefathers, and seek the destruction of those who wish otherwise.

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 12:01:39 2018 No.11670017

>>11669907
Stopped after the fifth sentence. Immediately pictured a fedora-wearing fleabag who can't stop telling a completely disinterested world about himself.

I can't care about character right away. Bring him slowly to me.

-----------------

I haven't done any writing in about six months. Afore, I was beginning the second part of a four-part novel I'm still considering myself to be writing on.

I have thought about rewriting the whole 36000 words to achieve a more consistent style. And also to figure out what the hell I want to say.

Before I throw away what I have so far, though, I'll post this excerpt here to hear what others are thinking without having read and reread the whole thing for dozens of times, like me.

Wordcount is ~1600
Thanks for any comments.

https://pastebin.com/7B48fhdQ

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 12:08:02 2018 No.11670042 Me make my poop my yummy treat, My salty, savory treat. The ambrosia of Olympus, The gift of God to little man. My throat embraces your joy, Fecal Pharaoh.

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 12:12:48 2018 No.11670060 >>11670017 Thanks for the tip.

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 13:12:47 2018 No.11670339 >>11664759 Nothing?

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 13:58:36 2018 No.11670525 >>11670339 im not gonna read anything presented by "dragon corporation", especially not "dragonsphere"

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 15:37:44 2018 No.11671015

>>11661331

First thing I've ever actually published publicly (I uploaded it to wattpad, I don't know if there's better sites for this kind of thing and I'm not gonna shill that here lmao.)

I'm down for any kind of critique. I tried some light format/style screw in this but I'm not sure it got fully realized enough to warrant it's use. lmk?

https://pastebin.com/7p6RtJi2

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 15:38:29 2018 No.11671018 >>11668405 Someone respond

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 15:45:21 2018 No.11671063 From miles away Intenstines infernal Glance my shelves slimming by the days How do I give comfort To eternal pain?

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 16:02:14 2018 No.11671137 >>11665777 anyone have any observations or criticisms?

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 19:54:02 2018 No.11672233 >>11669869 Well thanks for reading the intro and fair point - it's a long piece for someone to sit down and read but there's no harm in posting it if someone's up for going through it all. Cheers though

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 20:15:10 2018 No.11672316 >>11665015 dead meme

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 20:16:49 2018 No.11672323 File: 82 KB, 513x600, 1518041314599.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>11664699 someone respond

>>	Anonymous Thu Aug 23 20:43:38 2018 No.11672424 >>11668405 good its great nice

Anonymous Thu Aug 23 22:38:27 2018 No.11672883

Quand, dans les circonstances eternelles,
The levy breaks forth like hell
A drum is hit over and over 'til night comes
That sailor on the horizon has begun singing
Ringing
Out loud in a screech
Pierces his ears with blood and
Moves the spine into an arc
You'll never know the surge of power
Felt on the verge of the hour
So let them converge 'neath the tower
And sing their dirge of his flower
Hitherto I had run alongside the screech
Down to the marrow
Core
Molten and tumultuous
Unending strife in a muffled voice
Who hath ears to hear?
Now 'tis time for the fall

Advanced search
Text to find
Subject [?]Search by post subject. Leave empty for any.
Username [?]Search for user name. Leave empty for any user name.
Tripcode [?]Search for tripcode. Leave empty for any.
Email [?]Search by email. Leave empty for any.
Filename [?]Search by image filename. Leave empty for any.
From Date [?]Enter what date to start searching from. Format is YYYY-MM-DD
To Date [?]Enter what date to start searching until. Format is YYYY-MM-DD
Image hash
Search in	All Posts OPs Only
Deleted posts	Show all posts Show only deleted posts Only show non-deleted posts
Internal posts	Show all posts Show only internal posts Show only archived posts
Order	New posts first Old posts first
Capcode	All Posts Only by Users Only by Mods Only by Admins Only by Developers
Results	Posts Threads
Action	[ Simple ]

/lit/ - Literature