/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.1479386]

Hey people. I've been writing a short story. Now, this particular story intrigues me because it is so unlike anything I have ever written before. I'm a philosophy major and my writing is usually very dense and "complicated", with lots of wordplay. Reminiscent of Hegel, Nietszche, and Oscar Wilde; my favourite authors. Now, when I'm writing this particular story, it's... like it's self-evident that this is how it should be told, it just comes out so naturally, it even feels, good. Now, if you could check it out and give me some feedback it'd be great!

[Anonymous No.1479393]

In our lives there are moments; lots of moments, small and gigantic moments. Many of them are insignificant and are forgotten, some of them are, for some reason, remembered. Maybe they were a particularly happy moment, or a sad one; maybe because it was an awkward moment, or a revealing one –absurd, interesting or painful… When a moment is linked to a “special” sensation, something, or someone, it is not so easily lost. A scenario, a feeling, yourself, that’s a moment, that’s us.

We live a moment at a time.
We die at a time in a moment.

This is Felso. Felso is a man of one moment. See? I shall explain:

Felso lives his life adequately, he always has. He does everything he is supposed to do, nothing more, and nothing less.

Felso believes in stability, he believes in commitment, he is faithful. Felso also believes he is happy. He wakes up, takes a shower, brushes his teeth and dresses in an appropriate manner. He eats breakfast and heads to college. He takes the subway, and he does not look at anyone very much, and he does not talk to anyone at all. If spoken to he replies in a very fine manner: with a polite nod and a courteous smile (most of the time he does not even know what he has heard).

[Anonymous No.1479396]

Felso arrives to class just about on time, and sits just about halfway back. He sits very still and stays very quiet, and if asked to intervene he will do so, and he will say only what’s necessary to answer the question asked (Felso believes in not wasting other peoples time).

When class is over Felso leaves the room, and he does so with the absolute certainty that he knows more than he did, has fewer doubts, and has spent his time wisely.

Felso has friends of course, and he cherishes them deeply. He always greets them kindly, and asks them how they are with ever so kind gesture (Felso never knows how his friends are). Felso spends time with his friends, just the enough time of course, and talks with them respectfully about many things, sometimes about sports, and sometimes about other stuff. When the time is right Felso leaves, he says goodbye, smiles, and heads back home (Felso has a wonderful life).

“Life”, the word has never crossed Felso’s mind, indeed, if it ever has, he would think of it as much as one thinks about tying his shoelaces, and then he would dispatch the manner with a nice little bow: “life is nice”, Felso would say.

[Anonymous No.1479398]

Felso has a girlfriend too, as most young men have, a nice girl, very understanding, very warm hearted and caring. Felso met this girl in a most common way; she was introduced to him by a friend. Oh, he remembers that day all too well, Felso always remembers the little details. He remembers how she smiled at him when he shook her hand. He remembers also feeling a very unique feeling, something unlike anything he had ever felt before. It started in his stomach, and then spread slowly towards his chest and hands, and then, just as it was about to reach his head, it subsided. Felso had been very much intrigued about what he had just felt, but of course, he had shook off this thought quickly, Felso did not like to be in doubt. Felso understood that the secret to happiness was to accept everything, hesitation brought only uncertainty, and to be lost, Felso thought, must be such a terrible thing.

“The usual, every day the same, thank God for this happy, happy life” That was what Felso was thinking to himself that day, on the subway. The train stopped at his stop, and Felso stood politely up (Felso was polite in so many ways), the door opened, he was about to get off, but Felso froze in his tracks, ¿what is, that, what…? And then Felso could not think, Felso did not even dare blink, Felso suddenly weighted a ton, half his body was numb, his head buzzed, then he gasped (for he had forgotten to breathe).

[Anonymous No.1479404]

>my writing
>Reminiscent of Hegel, Nietzsche, and Oscar Wilde

[Anonymous No.1479407]

Long straight black hair, so shiny, covering part of her face, it looked as if she had not combed it in days. White skin, the color of milk, a little pink around the eyes; the eyes, they, Felso felt scared of them, they looked, as if they went straight through her, as if they led to a place, a place not meant to have been seen, someplace dark, one of those places where people could not help but get lost. She stepped inside, as she passed by Felso’s side he suddenly felt as if he had been kicked square in the chest (just a manner of speech, of course, Felso had never fought). He felt that same feeling he had felt when he had been introduced to his girlfriend, except this time, it burned, and, then, though he weighted now about 6 tons, he also felt as if he was floating, or falling.

Wat?

The thing, that had caused this, it touched him on the inside, strangled his brain, he felt weak. Felso started to blink furiously attempting to regain control, ¿what was that? He asked himself, terrified; it had been her perfume.

She sat down...

[Anonymous No.1479415]

- Hi man.
- Hey what up?
- I have something to tell you.
- …
- I’m in love with someone.
- … Have you had sex with her?
- What do you mean?
- Have you fucked her: yes or no?
- No, not yet.
- Exactly; see you’re not in love.
- I don’t get it
- Jaja, jaja. You’re not even in lust with her.
- What the… Why do you say so?
- You’re just deluded.
- …
- And there’s no better cure for delusion than good, old-fashioned sex.
- Making love?
- No, never! You would just aggravate the situation.
- I love her!
- Nope, you simply haven’t had sex with her, yet.
- How can you say that?
- Look, when you meet a woman two things can happen. One: you ask yourself “what would it be like to fuck her”. Two: you don’t. The first situation can lead to: either lust –if she succeeds your expectations. Or love – if she meets them or falls short. – Particularly if she falls a bit short…

[Anonymous No.1479417]

- And what if I didn’t ask myself that question?
- You delude yourself, simply because you see her as a pale reflection of some asexuated ideal – all ideals are asexual. That is, until you fuck her, then you realize she isn’t an ideal; that she is just a woman, and all you feel afterwards is disappointment and some regret – Particularly if she is a lousy laid…
- And why can’t I make love to her?
- … Look, you don’t get it! Making love isn’t having sex on a bed covered with rose-petals and with caviar flavored condoms, no; that’s sex -stupid sex-. “Making love” is what you do immediately after sex: it turns out you both feel so good you start saying and doing a lot of stupid and unnecessary shit. All you gain then: you forget what you just did, or rather: you remember it in a very silly and unrealistic way. You turn it into something its not. Making love is denying you just had sex…
- Fuck you!
- No, fuck her; it’ll be much more fun and insightful, both psychologically and physically.
- Jaja... you’re an asshole.
- I know… (At that moment Felso wanted to be an asshole, it protected him, made him invulnerable, gave him freedom... It didn't. )

It goes on but i'll cut it off here...

[Anonymous No.1479425]

>>1479404

Sorry if it sounded pretentious, didn't mean that at all. It's just that they are my favourite authors, and I read them everythay. Because of that my writing is heavily influenced by them.. That's all

[Anonymous No.1479494]

I kind of enjoyed it until here:

>>1479407

Too abstract too soon, basically.

[Anonymous No.1479497]

>>1479494

Thanks, I thought the same thing too.