Writing Feedback/Critique Thread

[Anonymous No.3823555]

I know there are two other threads like this already, but both have sort of died. So we're going to make a new one.
Post your work and let others give you feedback. It could be stuff that you're working on, stuff you've already written, you could even go ahead and pitch an idea for something you want to work on and see if we can help you out with ideas.

[Anonymous No.3823559]

It was the third of June, yet another day in the dull and unremarkable beginning of summer. Mild weather had pervaded the tabletop plains of northeast Arkansas; normally accustomed to near triple-digit temperatures and a starkly empty—yet beautiful—sky, the residents of the friendly region had been surprised by cotton balls, gentle rains, and sub-eighty degree days. This day was no different. A calm morning, one could even say it was chilly, greeted the plants and animals. The soft and loving touch of a light breeze, no more than a breath on a cheek, stirred life back into existence, ending the short reprieve granted by the disappearance of the blazing chariot of Helios over the horizon. The citizens of this small and deeply devout world would have said that it was the breath of God that had revived life, that it was by His kindness that the air was not a sweltering soup of mosquitoes and mirages. Indeed, the third of June was the kind of day that made even the most doubtful of skeptics—of which there were few in the region—for a brief moment believe in the existence of some higher power, one that appreciated beauty.
He was Martin Kale. He awoke at noon to the scent of freshly cut grass and the symphonic calls of cardinals, robins, blue jays, and a multitude of other birds. The tranquil flow of the wind nimbly danced between leaves and flower petals, kissing the creatures that nested and hid within the plants. In the distance, the droning of a lawn mower could be heard, almost perfectly in tune with hum of thousands of insects. The hushed whisper of tires—occasionally replaced by a brief but manic scream as a gas pedal was depressed too hard—tickled Martin’s ear. The serene noises of summer lulled him into a state of torpor, a soft smile on his lips. But the bliss that had engulfed Martin suddenly disappeared.
It was the third of June. It had been two weeks.

OP here. I was just wondering if /lit/ thinks I should change.

[Anonymous No.3823581]

>>3823559
What I should change*

[Anonymous No.3823614]

a form poem I'm working on

The pills
The pills inside
The pills I took
Taken

Taken by
Taken by talons
Taken by trees
Taken by the storm

The storm
The night of the storm
The night is dark
The night is full of terrors
The night is young
The night is dead

[Anonymous No.3823663]

>>3823614

>The night is dark
>The night is full of terrors

I believe that's a GRRM quote

[Anonymous No.3823687]

>>3823555
Working on my 4chan non-fic, would anyone care to read my section on anonymous? Since it is about anon, might as well hear your thoughts. Also will I be allowed to publish my work as Anonymous?

[Anonymous No.3823707]

Pookie don't live here no more
She done got shot by her boy friend
The man done came down here once
On the fact He always be hit'n her and shit
She got fed up with it, I guess
Said she was leavin' or sometin'

Pookie don't live here no more
Had one of them 'Domestic Disturbances'
Yeah, Her boo shot her.
Some people can't be relate'n with all that
Especially when you be hit'n them all the time
That's just how it goes, I guess

Pookie don't live here no more
She done got shot by her boy friend

[Anonymous No.3824550]

Enjoy some simple pleasures, do not hurry past
Do not fear your life today, this will be your last

[Anonymous No.3824598]

The cold is biting, but the dawn revives me. I have not slept, though I have been brought before death. As the chill fades from my bones, I rise again. It is a long walk inland, as the steep cliffs have forbidden my ship a close landing. But there are those who should be remembered. I am sore as I clamber over the rocks and ruins of a dying world, the journals of the dead in my hand.

I search for their resting place, but fear they have not found peace. At last, I see two cabins a valley apart from one another. Here was where they must be. Ignoring the pained cries of my body, I journey to the smaller cabin, hoping to find the two I have remembered. Yet, I am disheartened when I enter. A woman sits there, alone, without peace. She is not there, and the cabin lays in disarray. I feel I know the state of the other house, yet I follow the cliffside path there regardless.

Together the bodies of the two lovers cling on the bed, praying, not to any god, but to each other, for peace. I would wish for them to find it, but I know they have not. Death has brought them nothing but a short reprieve. My mother would tell me to not remember them, but I cannot help but pity their journey. They have kept many memories, yet kept them seperately. They dream apart, though they sleep together. The plague has claimed them both, and I remember their names. Alexander Ashton and Leora Horovitz. I wish them luck and place their memories between them, so that in death, at least, they may share them.

[Anonymous No.3825596]

My 274 word synopsis I've been working on for practicing. Also a story idea I'd like to do in the far future; http://pastebin.com/3qtQL5MT

[Anonymous No.3826528]

Pic related, don't want to fuck up the formatting and it's too long to text post in one go.

It's a comedy script (this only one scene).

[Anonymous No.3826530]

>>3826528
It's not funny.

[Anonymous No.3826537]

>>3824598
sanctimonious sack of bullshit. the persona is some sort of diseased philosopher, glossing over a bunch of "deep" thoughts in some sort of nebulous dreamspace.
imagery and writing style are pretty good, and they're interesting ideas, but if this is supposed to be "deep" you'll only impress other people who are just 2deep5society.

good style/mechanics; subject matter really gets my goat

[Anonymous No.3826551]

(Part 1 of 2)

Nobody thinks about mental disorders until they get one. That isn't an opinion, that is a fact. People think about whether they can get that dress in their size, people think about if that cute girl is going to be on their train again, people think about how painful stubbing their toe is. Normal people don't assume they will get Alzheimer's. It's too easy to call someone else crazy.

I have never had a 'real job'. I work part time at a fortune cookie factory. Before I got the job I assumed they were all "made in china". About a year ago I got a call from the job centre saying I had an interview, but I overslept on the day of the interview and didn't go. Two days later they rang my home to tell me I got the job, and I accepted it. Before I said goodbye they said "good work, Pedro" and hung up. My name is Tom.

The part of the factory that I work at is the Quality Control Conveyor Belt, just before they get packaged into little clear pieces of sterolised plastic. I stand there and check whether there is something wrong with the fortune cookies, and throw away the mutated ones. it requires very little effort. Pretty often the cookie has somehow formed with fortune embedded through the sides. Sometimes there is only half a cookie. Sometimes two cookies conjoin. Once I saw a cookie made out of just the papers smushed together. I still don't know how that happened. I don't like my job.

I live alone in a one bedroom flat in Lewisham. A few years ago I went to university for an engineering degree and lived with three other people who didn't like each other very much. They kicked me out in the second year when they caught me doing heroin in the toilets. I had forgotten to lock the cubicle door and a 70 year old art history professor walked in on me mid syringe squeeze. I didn't stop.

Let me talk to you about heroin for a few moments.

(Part 2 to come..)

[Anonymous No.3826554]

>>3823614
>>3823663
hahaha it is. what a faggot

[Anonymous No.3826555]

>>3826551
(Part 2 of 3)

Heroin is the big bad drug. Heroin is the drug coke addicts tell you to avoid because of how fucking addictive it is. Everyday it's drummed into teenagers brains don't take drugs, especially not big bad scary, life-ruining heroin. They bang on about how horrible it makes your life, how it will make you have scary dark eyes and drive you to kill adorable kittens just to get your dirty syringe hooks on it. But they don't tell you the effects. They don't tell you what the kitten-murdering, spoon-heating, dark-eye'd scary man feels like when he's doing smack. There's a reason. It doesn't feel like what they want you to think it feels like. It's fucking wonderful.

Imagine it's cold outside, fucking freezing. Your socks are wet and you're so cold your balls are next to your kidneys and all you want to do is die. But then you step into a house. A warm house, and there's a roaring fireplace and someone's playing that album. Someone wraps you up in a duvet and you fall asleep, with a huge smile.
That house, and everything in it, is heroin.

Heroin feels perfect. You can feel it go through that old shitty syringe and through that prick in your freshly pierced skin and into your warm, glistening blood, and it hits you. For those few hours you don't give a fuck that you hate everyone you've met for the last 21 years. You don't give a fuck that you're failing a degree you don't want. You don't give a fuck that you've got nothing to live for. You're in a whole new place where no fucks are ever given. You’re safe and happy, even though in reality you live in Lewisham. And then you throw up after a few hours, but lets not talk about that part.

(Part final bit of this extract coming up)

[Anonymous No.3826556]

>>3826551
>>3826555
(3/3)

I didn't do it for long. I'm not going to lie, it's addictive as hell, but I avoided it. I started because I needed to feel any emotion again. The time when I got caught was only the third time I'd ever done it. It's also the last. I've been so close breaking, but I guess I have more control than others. I still smoke a lot of pot with Gary on days I'm not working, but it's not the same.

Gary is not my friend. Gary is a thirty two year old balding white drug dealer who still thinks his rap career will 'take off'. He worked at the factory briefly before getting fired for "breaching security protocols". He slept with an overweight administrator and somehow stole her passwords, and used them to change the fortune printing machine's settings so that the only fortune it printed was "fucking pussy ass cunt nigger". They made sixteen thousand of his cookies before they realised there was anything wrong, and then fired him. I'm not sure how they knew it was him. They probably figured that he was the only one in the factory with any sort of balls to do something like that.

[Anonymous No.3826559]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Sz7nLVFHKKG60KaxynU1cDyYZR-Gp88QjlMkcTxflk8

[Anonymous No.3826563]

>>3826528
It leaves me feeling mildly annoyed for the protagonist and nothing else. I think youre trying to capture the doctor as having bad humor in a serious time but it just doesnt capture that atall. Besides doing that for a comedy script is like Family Guy level humor.

[Anonymous No.3826571]

>>3826555
>Heroin is the big bad drug.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VGRQGm4-A4k

[Anonymous No.3826577]

>>3823687
>being tihs much of a faggot

[Anonymous No.3826594]

>>3823559
It's great. I really enjoyed reading and felt it easy to crawl into, it paints a wonderful picture of a place I haven't been.

The only suggestion I'd give would be to change up some of the more ornate language and simplify it. For example, "scent" to "smell" and "the wind nimbly danced" to "the wind moved." Is wind ever nimble? It generally only changes direction when it strikes something.

Otherwise nice read. Reminds me of Steinbeck.

[Anonymous No.3826629]

On 28th day of their coming, there were still no signs of help, and particular people were beginning to become upset. Mark, for example, displayed a horrible fit of “rage” a few days ago. I was in the main room with a couple of other “acquaintances” when it happened. We heard a loud noise, like something being thrown, and the screaming of a girl. We rushed in the kitchen to find Mark on top of a young girl named Melissa, wide eyed, waving the stub of his arm over her face. In the corner of the room, by the onions, was a dismembered hand. It goes without saying it was decided upon that we would throw him out, and he was never seen again afterwards.
Jackson, the “leader” of our small team, insists we leave our confines to search for other signs of ppeople every week. He chooses one random person to go with him every time. He's a huge, burly man, it would be unwise to defy him, so whoever is chosen usually agrees. Every time it's usually at least a few hours before they make it back from their hunt, Jackson stiff with frustration, and the unlucky volunteer nearly paralyzed with fear.

would you continue reading?

[Anonymous No.3826634]

http://pastebin.com/xS0Nu1KP

First few parts of a story I'm working on.
Would really appreciate it if someone took a look at it and gave me some critique.
I've gotten this far, and now I'm starting to question whether I should go on or scrap it and start something new.

[Anonymous No.3826641]

http://pastebin.com/srNNFdGu

From a writing prompt thread a few weeks ago.

[Anonymous No.3826669]

>>3826634

It's really not bad, I say you should stick with it. The only trouble I have with it is the ham-fisted foreshadowing, with phrases like "his ego would be his downfall" and "if it weren't for the sinister visions which I would grow to associate with it"

Keep it subtle, especially so early in the narrative. Hint to the reader that something interesting (dark, perhaps) will happen at the Daedalus house, but don't just spoonfeed them "something sinister will happen". Ease the reader into it more.

But like I said. Keep going with it, it's promising.

[Anonymous No.3826673]

>>3826669
Thanks man.
I was worried it would be too boring so I tried to build it up as much as I could. Good to hear I don't have too.

[Anonymous No.3826684]

>>3826673

I'm assuming this is the beginning to a longer piece (novel or novella), so as long as you can hook the reader at the beginning, you should be alright. The opening paragraph was more than enough to do so.

One more word of caution. Here's my prediction for the rest of the book. "Evil scientist is performing genetic experiments on animals, perhaps mutating them in some way. He believe's it's the right thing to do and that no one understands that. It's the main character's job to stop him, and he succeeds against all odds, killing the scientist and destroying the fruits of his experiments."

If I'm right, you're in for a very contrived book. Mix it up a little.

[Anonymous No.3826685]

Fraser was having distinctly peculiar dream in which a woman wearing a blank white mask that had no eye holes had walked up and handed him a baby wrapped in a blue blanket, before getting on a subway train. The subway train pulled away before he could give the baby back, and he was left in a crowded subway station holding a stranger’s baby. He didn’t know anything about babies. Back in high school he’d never taken the Home Economics class – thought it was for girls. He was afraid he might break the baby somehow, as if it were made of very fine china. Then the baby started crying. When it did, the people in the subway station all turned to look at him. He started to apologise to them, to explain to them that the baby wasn’t his and that he really had no idea what he was doing, and then he realised that none of the people around him had any faces either. And that they were all weirdly deformed, with bulging, shifting shapes beneath their clothing. He was six-three, but all of these people were taller than he was, looming figures that were moving ominously toward him, leaning forward over him, and in his arms the baby was squirming. He glanced down at it, but it wasn’t a baby at all, it was a misshapen, furless catlike thing with empty pits instead of eyes, and it sank its pointed fangs into his hand, drawing blood. He dropped it, it gave an inhuman yowl as it fell – he hated cats – and that was when the sharp knock at the door woke him up.

(It's going to be a dark comedy about a guy with a phobia of people wearing cat fursuits and also Hello Kitty paraphernalia. He has no issues with people wearing other sorts of fursuits. Something has happened to my writing recently and I have lost the ability to be even remotely serious in anything I write.)

[Anonymous No.3826695]

>>3826684
You're very, very wrong, in a good way.
Thanks again for the feedback. Hopefully the story should prove to be pretty original. Lot's of /x/ elements to be introduced soon.

[Anonymous No.3826698]

>>3826695

Good to hear, keep going anon.

[Anonymous No.3826705]

>>3826641

[Anonymous No.3826713]

>>3824550
Have you considered changing "this will be your last" to "live it like your last"? or "make it be your last"? unless you are telling to reader to go off themselves. If so, carry on.

[Anonymous No.3826728]

I'm currently trying to find my writing voice. The first link is just something I'm working on. This was my minimalist approach.
http://pastebin.com/KLb8RGXJ

This link is a bit of a excerpt of how I used to write. I suppose it's a bit tedious, which is why I've been experimenting with different writing styles.
http://pastebin.com/mvPkhQsL

Any advice would be appreciated.

[Anonymous No.3826730]

Why do you guys use pastebin instead of a blog or something?

Also, my captcha should be the title of your next story: The MilCon

[Anonymous No.3826732]

>>3826730
it's quick and allows guests to simply copy and paste their work to share.

[Anonymous No.3826736]

>>3826728
>Brothers,mothers,fathers.

All those "thers" pierce my brain

[Anonymous No.3826740]

>>3826736
Yeah, its a rough draft of a story I've been meaning to scrap. You're completely right though. I really wasn't happy with the entire paragraph.

[Anonymous No.3826743]

>>3826736
Any advice on how to get around that repetition for future writing? Like I said, I'm experimenting with new writing styles and tips.

[Anonymous No.3826749]

>>3826641
Ha.Good work

[Anonymous No.3826762]

>>3826551
I think about mental disorders. That isn't an opinion, that is a fact.

[Anonymous No.3826765]

>>3826743
Ma, mama, mom, mum, etc
pa, papa, pop, etc
bro, sibling, sister, etc

[Anonymous No.3826771]

>>3826765
Think I should just scrap the paragraph though? Ever since I wrote it I felt like I was treading on a cliche. Also, thanks for the feedback.

[Anonymous No.3826789]

Could of any of you guys help me to set up a personality for a character? The character is essentially a pretty boy, so I would like it if anyone could throw something interesting my way. Please make it descriptive as possible.

[Anonymous No.3826815]

>>3823707
This is perfect

[Anonymous No.3826831]

first time trying to write something in a few years:
Eyes opened in the cool damp of the stone room. A man lay on a straw mat in the corner, a clay pitcher of water and a chunk of stale bread stood a few inches from his face. As his eyes took in the light he let out a crackling sigh then sat up.
The floor and walls were cold, grey stone. Torches were mounted, giving off faint, flickering light that did not touch the ceiling -- if there even was a ceiling -- for the walls seemed to go up forever. The room was barren save for the straw mat, bread, and pitcher, and an icy breeze seemed to blow from everywhere and no where at the same time. At the back of the room, directly opposite of the man and the straw mat and barely illuminted by the glow of the torches, was a wooden door on rusted iron hinges.
The man's eyes adjusted to the dim light of his surroundings and rubbed his face with dirty hands. His hair was dark and matted and the bags under his eyes were so dark they looked like black pits in the shadows. A thin beard grew in full around his face and looked like it had not been maintained in months. He wore stained sack cloth breeches tied with a thin bit of rope and a tattered rag of a shirt, his feet were uncovered and covered in cuts.
The first thing the dark haired man did was reach out to grab the pitcher of water. He picked it up anticipating a full pitcher but was surprised to find out it was only half full. Regardless, he chugged it down in a few gulps anyways then picked up the bread. The second he put the hard chunk of bread in his mouth he wished he had saved some water, and had a hard time chewing and swallowing it. It made his mouth dry all over again, as if he never drank any of the water in the first place. He sat in thought for a minute or two while staring at the wall opposite of him. Why am I here? What is this place? He then looked down at his hands, cracked and weathered, the palms covered in hard calluses from hard work. Who am I?

[RomanianRichard No.3826833]

>>3826528
It started off strong but lost steam around the point where the doctor started touting his bad sense of humor. I would've really liked to see where you would've gone with the idea of a guy having literally "six sperms" and the doctor staying deadpan the whole way through.

[Anonymous No.3826852]

>>3826528
it seems more like the single kinda funny scene from a serious movie than anything else. making the prtagonist less serious and angry and more bewildered and questioning would have made it funnier.

[Anonymous No.3826854]

when I cry I don't feel pain
or suffering or sadness
only tears, running down my cheek
and a feeling in my abdomen
which you understand
infinitely deep
something climbed out
weeks, or maybe years
materialized
then a year, or maybe two
of silence

[Anonymous No.3826957]

I'm going to reboot one of my novels that I abandoned because halfway through i realized I'd made him a boring mary sue because I didn't have the plot length between him losing his mary sue powers and going and doing awesome normal things

So I'm going to tone him down and flaw him.

How do I go about writing a character that thinks about twice as fast as a normal person? He isn't smarter or anything, but when he isn't in Virtual Reality, he still thinks as fast as if he were.

Irritable? Cuts people off? Uncoordinated? Bored

Could you possibly fall asleep when you think that fast? I know I personally fall into trains of thought that keep me up at night, and this would likely make it worse

Some other info, he's addicted to weed as a painkiller. He's a welfare queen on medical leave from the military making money on the side as a hacker, because the neural implant the military gave him, which causes his headaches and accelerated thought, gives him admin access to everything.

But not exactly, because an unrelated AI has been living in his head doing basically post processing of reality to keep him at full speed. The AI is in his head because it's the only compatible implant, because it's a buggy prototype. It's the AI that hacks everything for him, giving him unwarrented entitlement.

At the end of act one, the AI escapes.

so, thoughts?

[Anonymous No.3826985]

>>3826854
NO! christ no! what the hell were you thinking?

[Anonymous No.3826996]

>>3826854
absolutely disgusting

[Anonymous No.3827003]

A cool whisper in the night, the faint scent of a faded smile. Time flows like a gentle caress, then clicks as a galloping horse, then thumps like a fallen giant, ever onward.
Memories stray and ideas linger, idle in the face of perilous obstacles. A duality of perception and actualization dances and spins among the masses of inconsiderate consequences, never touching, never combining.
Strings build intent for the cacophony of conclusion, but the clock winds down and the distance remains. Doubt clouds the alleys where comfort escapes, and beauty envisioned begets irrationality. As dangerous as zeal is nonchalance.
Enlightenment is one step sideways, where I can take your hand and watch the world pass by. How much I would give for that vantage, as I keep moving on without rest, without improvement, without you.

[Anonymous No.3827008]

>>3826713
yeah sure why not, a happy version and a more moody version

[Anonymous No.3827014]

>>3827003
>the faint scent of a faded smile.

this was a good idea

[Anonymous No.3827020]

>>3826957
try giving him a flaw that relates to the symptoms of online addiction (sleep deprivation, social anxiety, social retardation, etc.). Also, addicted to weed doesn't give much of an impact. Most readers are likely to come across that and think "ha, riiiight." The effects of weed addiction simply doesn't have the impact to cause empathy.
Does the AI have a personality, or does it just enhance his brain functions?
How does the AI escape?

[Anonymous No.3827027]

>>3827020
When I say addicted to weed I mean he has mind crushing headaches every moment he isn't high off his ass, so he is physically addicted to it due to the shitty implant

AI is a bit of a snark at the moment. Goes around doing his own things, constantly spills secrets to everyone, treats humans like pawns, etc.

The AI escapes after the military figure out that the AI is in his head, and he runs the fuck away to the internet, using a full on civil war he engineered as cover to protect his ass.

I could probably make him agoraphobic pretty easily. The super city he's living in is pretty sealed up regardless. And outside the city he was stationed as a soldier watching over kilometers and kilometers of automated farming, constantly under threat of a zombie wandering up in the night and killing him. Hence why his only remaining squadmate is hooked on super-cocaine

[Anonymous No.3827979]

>>3826957
>>3827027
Still lurking about for input

[Anonymous No.3828116]

>at 15
>trying to write horrible fantasy stories and fan fictions
>at 17
>pretentious as fuck
>19
>having some class, but still often pretentious, fascinated by shallow plots and dumb stuff
>21
>still not that great, but won 1st place at university literature contest. almost having unique style and limited quality, but not quite readable
>22
>realizing I'm just a student of limited social life and experiences, living life full of pressure, shallow things, hard working for small payment, nothing interesting happening to me
>i have nothing to offer to readers

>use talent to keep writing better than average scientific articles at uni, tumblr posts and sister's homework

[Anonymous No.3828123]

>>3828116
going out and living life is my excuse for procrastinating

[Anonymous No.3828137]

>>3826641
What are you even exploring? What's the point? What makes these people different? Why do I care? Is there an underlying theme to this: youth's fall into passive nihilism? is this a commentary on anything?

Please help me answer these questions. The writing's good, but there's no apparent larger angle at which I can look at it.

[Anonymous No.3828149]

>>3828123
good. very good.

i'm hardly living a life, there isn't any.
>go out
>talk about uni, stuff, movies, get drunk
>feel social and with purpose
>talk some more
>go home
>travel somewhere
>get drunk, see museums, go out
>get a girl, make out
>take her to dinner, buy her stuff, talk to her on FB
>have mediocre sex
>get dumped after few months
>give exams
>fail exams
>eat food
>eat some more food
>go on 4chan
>spend a lot of time on the internet
>fail a semester
>read books
>give exams
>feel lonely
>go out
>repeat process

[Anonymous No.3828231]

>>3823687
> [X] percent of daily goal
What software is this?

[Anonymous No.3828242]

Just gonna give the doc link, what I have is super-long already.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1gCaLRh095Ex6cVoUh_OgZEffNbfmEPa6t2GWf5G4Ygk/edit

[Anonymous No.3828298]

On NHK

On NHK they’re talking about the unavoidable and depressing
irrelevance of ducks.
At noon, they’re selling Toyotas to fretful ghosts
and angrily discussing the international success of sushi.

On NHK The Emperor is swimming
on a pool of nationalist gelatin
as four generations of teenagers applaud in a rather organic rhythm.

Late at night, sports cars tokyo-drifting pointlessly through the solar system,
and there’s rumor of a Corporation.

The few citizens still awake dry their tears on colorful sleeves.

[Anonymous No.3828325]

We had finally finished moving the furniture around, and everyone gathered at the large table in the middle of the room.
It was supposed to be a dinner, but I couldn't eat anything.
Especially with you sitting at the farthers place away from my own seat.
I felt uncomfortable enough with your mother sitting next to me, ranting about her protein bread.
I tried to focus on one your cousins. At least I believe he was.
He showed me a video of a spiral falling down a house.
I felt an odd connection to it.

[Anonymous No.3828364]

>>3828242
I actually enjoyed that.
The tone was readable; the plot is set up pretty well; the setting is interesting.
Continue, my dear Anon. Maybe you can publish it.

[Anonymous No.3828366]

>>3828231
http://gottcode.org/focuswriter/

[Anonymous No.3828368]

How about a haiku?
>I saw mom and dad.
>They were on the Internet.
>The website: RedTube.

[Anonymous No.3828371]

>>3828298

If you're Japanese 7/10 pretty good

If you're American 0/10 grow up you weeaboo manchild

[Anonymous No.3828377]

>>3828368
le fug :---DDD

[Anonymous No.3828379]

>>3823559

That read very well, maybe consider touching up the first few sentences as they can come off a little clunky. Once you hit your stride you hit it though, I really enjoyed it.

[Anonymous No.3828382]

>>3828364
Thanks, if you really like it then you should keep it on your shared and look at it periodically.

[Anonymous No.3828384]

Wrote this a while ago just for shits. Coming back to it now, there's some cringe-worthy purple prose, but it doesn't seem so bad.
I'm looking for a second opinion.

The walls stank with piss. The old station had an infinite number of cracks and crevices though which the rain now permeated, and flooded the place with a sour nauseating smell. A thick gray fog had steamed though and was oozing along the walls and the floor; stretching out into the dark. He pulled his collar tighter. It devoured everything. All hope or optimism were drawn out into the hissing fog, and swallowed by the indomitable Darkness. It looked at him now.

A lamp was blinking some distance out into the black, giving off a faint halo of grayness and death. That was the place. He checked his watch: five till; still not here. The second hand wasn't moving now. Time stood still.

One minute after midnight, that was what the porter at the gate had said. Another cigarette while he waited. As he struck the match, the light glowed faintly and unnaturally in the fog.

[Anonymous No.3828466]

>>3828384
>permeated,
>,

[Anonymous No.3828483]

>>3823663

'For the night is dark and full of terrors'

Yeah, it's from ASOIAF.

[Anonymous No.3828544]

http://pastebin.com/p2FrQ44V
I wrote this a while ago. I'd really appreciate some feedback

[Anonymous No.3828551]

>>3828466
that's it? really?

c'mon, someone. it's short

[Anonymous No.3828562]

Reflexion Nocturne

As I sit here, vision swinging,
Though not sufface to drunken singing.
I think back to months ago,
Voices of friends I've never met,
Laugh gently into my ear,
And again I lose my track of thought,
Not on borrowed time, but costly, bought,
Not an ode to Xanthine, white as snow,
Not an affectation of a life upset,
Nor a doff to sweet insomnia,

No, it's the willful trespass of a twat,
Who thinks himself a poet.

EEEYUP!

[Anonymous No.3828584]

One I've been working on recently, would love feedback:

Gilding surf-worn ocean stones with
Chilly, satin sin fingertips
She caresses and rotates a turquoise pebble
That gleamed and caught her eye among the other
Crumbled granite and
Shattered shale pieces

The rock is hoisted from a beach foam bed,
Brought close to eyes to analyze and
With malice she locks in on the
Green and blue pendant
Carved out by nature's force and fury

At once the tiny legacy of
Cold stone generations
Is subject to an emotional lashing
Scrutinized in an intensive interrogation
Where she swallows her hopes
And demands answers

Encumbered by salt water tears that stream
In perpetuity
The stone stares into her sapphire gaze
And shrugs

She aches to ask it why
The waves reach rolling swells
And thrash the ocean into submission
She aches to ask for answers why
The lapping swells arose to swallow him whole
And bury him in the pages of stories
We have already heard.

(I can post the rest if anyone is interested)

[Anonymous No.3828606]

The pink sock hung dripping in the wind, lolling like the tongue of the great dragon in its death throes when cut down by St. George in the prime of its flowering adulthood. So too did the prolapse drip as the dew in spring, shot through with blue veins marred only by silted track marks. Sonic bent down to taste its sweetened nectar, ripe as that given to Heracles and flowing as golden ichor, those veins heading a mighty river as it drops suddenly to lavish its frothing spirits upon the earth in the first thaw- so to was his tongue unfurled, a nimble sprite dancing beneath the fountain of true youth succumbing to the delight of the honeyed lotus and oblivious to the turning of the spheres.
"Thou doth go fast, and my shart shall- tis an awsome thing to see", he remarked. His girth stood proud in the silent cave, vibrating with mirth.

[Anonymous No.3828611]

>>3828384
It's a cool scenario, but some of the adjectives seem unnecessary or just awkward. I don't think fog can hiss, and how does a lamp give off a grayness in total darkness. With no context I was a little confused as to who the it was you were referring to.

[Anonymous No.3828620]

>>3828606

why.

[Anonymous No.3828707]

>>3828544
It's 20 lines, people. I need your abusive criticism.

[Anonymous No.3828725]

>>3828707
I want you to explain what you were trying to achieve with this, then I will give you my criticism.

[Anonymous No.3828733]

>>3828725
I remember it was a hot night and I couldn't sleep, so I wrote what I wrote to pass the time.

[Anonymous No.3828739]

>>3828733
I meant what kind of form is this supposed to be? Free verse, part of a short story?

[Anonymous No.3828749]

>>3828739
Just a short story.

[Anonymous No.3828763]

>>3828749
Okay. I'd recommend taking it easy on the allegorical rants and purple prose (I truly believe there is a place for purple prose in stories, but it can completely halt momentum). The meaning, if there is one, is being buried in the language you're using. You have to use that type of writing sparingly so the reader doesn't become desensitized to it. When they are overexposed to that type of writing, they will stop making the effort and just skip over it.
I'm gonna assume you write, then see where it takes you. You should building an outline before writing, to see how it changes your writing.

[Anonymous No.3828772]

>>3828749
You clearly have an ability to write a good story, and you seem like you have a lot to express. That's good. But build some confidence in the reader. Stop holding their hand and let them deduce what they will from your story. Simplicity can have a strong impact.

[Anonymous No.3828798]

>>3828763
What type of writing should I use in such a story? And how can I build confidence in the readers and stop holding their hands? Bear with me.

[Anonymous No.3828820]

>>3828749
did you by any chance read the stranger before writing this?

[Anonymous No.3828822]

>>3828798
When I first read your story I couldn't tell if it was a short story or a free verse because it packs so much grandeur into such little text. Simplify things and stop trying to cram the emotional significance down their throat. Let them do the work and imagine what they will. The image will be much clearer for them this way.
Example:
"I sat anxiously in a cold prison cell."
Instead of:
"The clammy stone wall pressed to my skin as a brisk chill oozed out from the rigid casement."
Do you see how convoluted things can get? The former may boast a well developed lexicon and an ear well versed in metre, but it isn't justified. Rather than allowing the reader to imagine what they like, they have to tediously imagine what you told them, and feel what you tell them to feel. That may sound like a good thing, but it really isn't because of how tiresome and restrictive this is to them.

[Anonymous No.3828828]

>>3828820
Only when I was about to end it, nice observation.

[Anonymous No.3828831]

>>3828822
But, I am not telling you to write like Hemingway. Like I said, you can use a very descriptive and emotional writing style, but you should do so sparingly. Build up to it, and make it stand out from the rest of the story.

[Anonymous No.3828840]

>>3828831
I agree fully. Appreciate the help, cheers.

[Anonymous No.3828846]

>>3828840
No problem man.

[Anonymous No.3828860]

They are gathered around her in a wide semi-circle, and silence has crept around the hall and smothered the foreigners, who are usually so noisy. Their ranks are closed, a dimmed rainbow wall of disorganised, disparate outfits, t-shirts and shorts and trousers and vests and dresses. And above the mob of clothing are their faces, their dark faces. Too dark for her. And she's too pale for them – a sickly pale, made more so by the glow of the spotlight. They peer at her. How curious! What are these types about, do you think? What is that girl going to do? Alina expects these questions to be written on their skin, in their posture, as she's been told happens, but there is nothing. No curiosity. Fear, maybe.

She clears her throat and introduces herself. I am Alina, and I am going to perform for you. The guests remain quiet. A few murmur to one another. Tonight is obligatory. Some of them won't have wanted to come. An electronic noise leaks in from behind her, a pulsating, intense sound, a mixture of squeaky hisses and long bass rumbles. As has been rehearsed for weeks in advance Alina slips herself nimbly into it, lets the rapid thump-thump possess her muscles. They're not hers, any more; they belong instead to the performance.

[Anonymous No.3828863]

>>3828860
Ahem, first two paragraphs of a novel I'm writing.

[Anonymous No.3828865]

In this chaotic time we live in it would only seem fit to say that the working class will always be in some form of boundless servitude to the wicked wealthy. Be it obsessed with the news, and blunders of the many various celebrities, or working miserable jobs for them. Not to say all of the wealthy are evil, and not all poor men are just.
Theodore had shown me the worst qualities of men, were Max had taught me the most precious. I still see my brother on occassion, he still refuses to acknowledge my presence, and I his. My father is still heartbroken over my sisters choice to leave, and I fear he will be until the rest of his days.
I never did learn where Max and Clair had gone, despite telling me he would send for me, I was most certain he would not. Whether they were afriad of being caught, or they just decided to live the rest of their lives together, peacefully, their retreat was hasty. My mind still drifts to the events of that night, leading up until my final vision if Max and Clair, and how I miss them so.
I had decided it was time for me to move out of my family's estate after the incident, the memories sometimes too painful for me to bear. I moved into what was once Max's house, overlooking the beautiful ocean. I still, sometimes, out of habit, drink tea on the balcony and reminisce about the many conversations we had had there. I often find myself staring at the horizon from the balcony, hoping one day my sister, and her love, will return to me, but as I sat alone, endlessly waiting, until the sun kissed the ocean, and laid to rest, I knew I would never see them again.
>be gentle

[Anonymous No.3828884]

>>3828865
Reread what you have written and fix all the spelling mistakes. Also, a comma is not a substitute for a period.
>I still see my brother on occassion, he still refuses to acknowledge my presence, and I his.
Fix: I still see my brother on occasion. He still refuses to acknowledge my presence, and I his.

[Anonymous No.3828888]

Posting this again for more advice.
I'm currently trying to find my writing voice. The first link is just something I'm working on. This was my minimalist approach.
http://pastebin.com/KLb8RGXJ

This link is a bit of a excerpt of how I used to write. I suppose it's a bit tedious, which is why I've been experimenting with different writing styles.
http://pastebin.com/mvPkhQsL

Any advice would be appreciated.
I will be taking out the mothers, fathers, and politicians part.

[Anonymous No.3828948]

I leaned in to gave her a hug. Instead, I started to feel her arms around my hips.
To my own surprise, she quickly lifted me off of the ground, my own arms still lingering on her body.
It got covered in anticipation when my crotch area slid over hers during the process, clearly feeling everything.
I didn't comment on it, nor did she, and I wasn't sure if she actually noticed it.

I shrugged it off and tried to mark it down as nothing. Still, I felt myself recalling our touch during the entire night.

[Anonymous No.3828949]

>>3828888
Nobody? It's not that long, and I'm just looking for a bit of criticism.

[Anonymous No.3828962]

>>3828888
>Generic rebel plotline
>Odd omniscience of a first-person character
>Autistic dialogue
2/10 and that's only because you can spell
get better

[Anonymous No.3828974]

>>3828962
How could you perceive omniscience out of 3 paragraphs? And, I don't know what you mean by autistic dialogue. I said I was experimenting with different writing styles, so give me something to work with rather than just saying 2/10.

[Anonymous No.3828984]

>>3828974
Your guy's talking about shit that the other guy is doing, and judging that the first guy is out of talking range he probably couldn't see him do any of that.
Maybe writing isn't for you

[Anonymous No.3828991]

>>3828984
It's almost like the character is going to write him a letter or something. Your unwarranted elitism isn't making much of a case for yourself. You're just coming off as someone who need to project their anger towards someone but is too much of a pussy to do it in person.

[Anonymous No.3828993]

>>3828991
Oh, believe me, if I could I'd pour water on your keyboard

[Anonymous No.3829001]

>>3828993
You seem upset.

[Anonymous No.3829013]

>>3829001
If I was upset at anything it'd be your sub-par writing.
Hey, you asked for criticism.
If you still want to write, then fiction probably isn't your voice.

[Anonymous No.3829026]

>>3829013
Alright, lets start over. I know that the story is filled with problems, but since you chose to respond like a douche, i chose to reply like one as well. What I am looking for is advice on writing short and concise sentences. Not advice on how the story will progress or issues with omniscience--especially when it's in response to a half baked idea.

[Anonymous No.3829425]

http://pastebin.com/AP5aatL3

It's pretty long, a little over two thousand words. No pressure to read the whole thing, but any input is appreciated. I've posted this similar story before and gotten mixed feedback. Since then I've matured my style and incorporated the feedback, made it less screenplayish

also, fuck the naysayers, I like zombies.

[Anonymous No.3829445]

>>3826985
>>3826996

I tried very hard on that poem and this response is surprising and sad to me

[Anonymous No.3829462]

http://pastebin.com/7902fmgC

[Anonymous No.3829485]

Here is my stream of consciousness,

Hello good morning to you how do you do i do good that is good ah yes indeed yes i do good yes how do you do yes i do good this good yes I am good yes good indeed how do you do good yes ah good yes yes yes yes good oh, lol yes do you expect something else well yes there is somethging else oh good lol yes yes yes oh yes good yes oh oh oh good yes stream good yes treat good yes oh good good good yes yes yes yes good yes yes yes good yes yes yes good yes yes yes good yes

[Anonymous No.3829514]

>>3829445
Writing poetry about your anxiety is dangerous. It tends to come off whiny and immature. Basically, it's not something you can simply put onto paper plainly.
Don't mind the responses though. /lit/, more often then not, wont give constructive criticism. They prefer to just attack what they don't like.

[Anonymous No.3829529]

>>3829514

thank you

[Anonymous No.3829536]

Butterflies, flying int the night
flying high, higher than a kite
wings of steal, wings of lead
beating, faster than I would my penis whilst masturbating

[Anonymous No.3829551]

>>3829529
No problem man. If you have anything else you want to share I'll give it a read.

[Anonymous No.3829552]

>>3829485
>>3829551

thanks man, this

[Anonymous No.3829594]

>>3826594
>>3828379
Thanks a lot. I personally consider my writing to be utter horse shit, so this is really encouraging. And good god, being compared to Steinbeck is an honor I don't deserve.

[Anonymous No.3829713]

http://pastebin.com/1y2Ba482

what do you guys think of this?

[Anonymous No.3829726]

>>3829713
>http://pastebin.com/1y2Ba482
I stopped after the first paragraph or so. blech

your tone is off the walls inconsistent.

[Anonymous No.3829736]

>>3829726

my tone? I'm not sure I understand this concept

[Anonymous No.3829738]

Help me /lit/:

What do you call an alias that's only used for sexual escapades? Or like a pet name for your sex partner.

[Anonymous No.3829747]

>>3829713
>It was too late, I realized, as I realized I had been rearranging my pens, lost in my thoughts, while Todd had tried to say goodbye to me, and eventually left.
Change one of the realized to something else.
>Luckily, this time, is shredded nicely.
it, not is.
Try and make your sentences more compact. There's a lot of unnecessary commas making it choppy to read.
Also, if you are going to introduce a love interest, try to avoid the typical shy doormat of a man meets sexy coworker relationship.

[Anonymous No.3829750]

>>3829738
Sexonym

[Anonymous No.3829757]

>>3829747
Improving your sentence structure may also help you maintain a consistent tone in your narrative, like
>>3829726
pointed out.

[Anonymous No.3829758]

>>3829750
That totally works thanks.

[Anonymous No.3829761]

>>3829747
>try to avoid the typical shy doormat of a man meets sexy coworker relationship.

rofl, thats freakin true man, I did just do that

[Anonymous No.3829768]

>>3829761
Its one of those things that everybody ends up writing at least once haha

[Anonymous No.3829797]

>Found this in my old files
>Was always told it was a good poem by her
>The person in the poem left me last November

Scarlet and the Letter

As I write this, your letter is in my hand
Because I cannot let go of something so wonderful.
Crazily enough, you elicit the same feeling in me.

Donned in black, I walk down the stairs.
Emotions of pure happiness overwhelm me
For I get to see you, enveloped in a
Grand dress of scarlet, and night.

How can she be this stunning?
I wonder, awestruck. My eyes couldn't turn.
Just gazing at you is all I could do.

Knowing you is a fantastic thing, and I try to
List all I like about you, but not in
Multiples of five, for I know that's something you despise.
Never have I met a girl that can so quickly have fun.

Offer help. Be kind. And Sweet.
Perhaps it is just me, but some may find you
Quirky. Once you told me I was dorky, and that was good.

Realizing you were serious, I move forward for an embrace.
Stepping outside, and into the chill air, we converse.
Talking to you brightens my day, however it is done.
Uncoordinated, you stumble, not unlike how you did into my life.

Visually, I notice that I soon must close this prose.
What I mean to say, with my words, is that you play my heart like a
Xylophone. Each note in perfect harmony with your own.

You are like a ninja, with a side of
Zaniness. I adore you.

[Anonymous No.3829805]

>>3829797
That poem was mushy. Like her vagina i presume.

[Anonymous No.3829811]

>>3829805
I may never know. She was a prude when I last saw her.

[Anonymous No.3829824]

>>3829811
That is AWFUL anon. I'm so sorry.

[Anonymous No.3829832]

>>3829824
It's awful that I never got sex or it's awful that she left me for literally no reason?

[Anonymous No.3829841]

just turned that in today for my poetry class

Greek Theatre, Berkeley, 06/01/2013

My sore arms,
Sore and drown,
Too deep in saturnine
Night awash bloodwine,
Thirst still for words.

So much for ecstasy…
Again I go, for poesy:
That night, swallowed
Throat full, hands to the sky,
And faithful—I welcomed it.

And there –in those aching
Unknown souls, I saw—
Under stripes of music,
Glowing orange, oozing
Sweaty salmon clouds.

Plum-starred trees, reaching
Upwards—further and
Louder, crawling phantoms
Plumped by rose and blueful
Multifoliate spiders.

rest here if anyone's interested: http://pastebin.com/gBD54bF2

[Anonymous No.3829869]

>>3829832
First one, then the other.

[Anonymous No.3829873]

>>3829869
I guess we have different priorities, then.

[Anonymous No.3829874]

>>3829425
anyone?

[Anonymous No.3829876]

Does this produce feels?


I spent the next few weeks constantly by the side of my mother, trying to forget that strange night. She was so weak she could no longer get out of bed, and I rarely got more than a word or two out of her. Though it was difficult to sit by and watch her die, I could tell that my presence comforted her. She would smile as I slipped my fingers between hers, her eyes looking up from her pillow into mine.
Sometimes, once the nurse had gone away and we were alone, I could see fear in her eyes. I knew she was afraid, but who wouldn’t be? I wanted to take the pain and anxiety away, but I knew there was nothing I could do but sit there beside her, hiding my own feelings behind feeble smiles and words of love and encouragement.
Though it may sound morbid to some, I began to look at her passing in a more positive light. Surely, once we’re gone the fear can no longer linger in our chest and weakness can no longer pin us down to beds as if they were prisons. It can’t be so bad after that final moment, though the buildup is paralyzing, there must be release, some kind of climax of the soul before that eternal, dreamless sleep.
When the moment came I was by her side, holding her hand tightly. She looked up at me one final time, then...release. One final breath before her hand went limp and her eyes sunk slowly down.
It’s so strange to look at the lifeless body of someone you once loved. If you’ve ever experienced it you’ll know exactly what I mean. Something about it, the body, laying there silently, perfectly still. Somehow you know it’s not them anymore. It doesn’t even look like them anymore.
I cried for some time, keeping her hand in mine, some part of me still not accepting that it was over, still expecting her to look up in to my eyes one more time and smile.

[Anonymous No.3829877]

>>3829873
Those priorities will be the end of you.

[Anonymous No.3829886]

>>3829797
Same thing happened to me buddy, but I pulled a Gatsby and won her back over two years later.
The fact that I was loyal to getting her back all that time still means a lot to her, though I am relatively attractive and she knows I could have gotten other girls, that probably helped too.
Asking her to marry me soon.
Keep your chin up, the worst thing that could happen is that your chin stays in the upright position for no reason, and that's not so bad.

[Anonymous No.3829887]

>>3829876
;_;

[Anonymous No.3829916]

>>3829877
I hope so. Never really wanted to live anyways.

[Anonymous No.3829920]

>>3829886
Some days I'm not even sure I want her back. If she can just leave me simply because of a few arguements, I don't think any relationship of hers will work out.

[Anonymous No.3829935]

>>3829920
>left for no reason
>arguments
Sounds like you're in denial, brother.
Gotta learn to love yourself before you can really love somebody else.
People don't want relationships for arguments and emotional rollercoaster rides, they want someone who confirms what they want confirmed and disproves what they want dis proven. That goes for both men and women.

If you're not having a genuinely good time in a relationship then you're not doing it right.

[Anonymous No.3829948]

>>3829935
No, by arguments I mean things like what to eat for dinner and the like. THAT is what I mean.

[Anonymous No.3829951]

Context: I'm a ghetto kid that threw himself into a preppy white honors class halfway through sophomore year.

I feel like I don't belong. The people around me don't gossip on who got arrested or when to buy drugs. They're happy, preppy and ignorant from the world outside of their cliques. They don't cheer on fights or have fun when there supposed to be working. They don't segregate each other. They don't worry when rent is due or when they are going to eat again. A bump in the hallway isn't followed by threats but by sorry or excuse me. They don't moan or groan when a 3 paragraph "essay" is due. A kid owns a Camero when he only uses it to drive to school.

The feeling of hate is suppressed and translated diplomatically. If there is such thing as intellectual ignorant bliss, then I'm surrounded by it. They feel like modern era flappers when they let their hairs down and wear anything that exposes anything above their knees. Guys don't sag their pants, but wear sport sweaters and off the shelf running shoes are more than common. Athleticism in most sports that aren't football or basketball are ruled by a white majority. THey do community service instead of smoke, they write notes instead of lyrics, they study instead of gang bang. They've probably never seen the lower level classes, and how the ghetto kids blatantly tell the teacher to go fuck themselves, then light a joint in the middle of a math lesson given by the teacher that they can barely understand. The non-honors teachers have to share classes, pushing some shitty cart to class to only be ignored and rejected pay. Now I know were most of the funding from this school goes to. Man in a school were over 50% of the student populace drop out by sophomore year, they sure are alienated.

Continued

[Anonymous No.3829954]

>>I fucking hate it when they say "The struggle is real", they turned it into a fucking joke. It's sad, all of it, Im going to be the only one out of 46 cousin that will graduate on time. My feeling are lonely, venting to anybody who understands is useless. My philosophy is morbid, not because Im mature than most, sad or angry, but because I think you can only grow as a person if you see them being broken down around you, both physically and mentally. Watching my own people detaching each others head give me a realization that, that could easily be me. Not the one on his knees reading some paper, but the one with a cleaver in his hand and a severed head in the other.

[Anonymous No.3829961]

>>3829948
If I was to be so bold as to give you advice on women, I'd say this: Choose your battles wisely.
If you let her have her way with all the stupid things, food choice, what movie to watch, what day you should leave and come back to and from a vacation, then it is much easier to decide the things that really matter.
Put your foot down only when its really, genuinely important to you, and make it clear that its going down your way. She'll grow to respect you eventually.

[Anonymous No.3829965]

>>3829954
lolz typo

there supposed to be a "don't" between who and understands, and the god damn link didn't link to the original

[Anonymous No.3829966]

>>3829961
You want to know how the arguments went, though?

>Me "I don't care what we eat."

>Her "Me neither! Decide!"

[Anonymous No.3829974]

>>3829966
Then fucking decide. The worst thing in the world is to be an undecisive pussy.
Best thing to do in that situation is know what she likes and say, "lets go to [whatever], they have a good [that thing she likes] that I like"
I guarantee you'll get a smile out of her if you do it right.
Remember, no relationship between two people will ever be perfect, we just have to make the best of the ones we have, and if you really put effort in and actually think about things you can any relationship enjoyable and rewarding for both parties.
Always try to look at a situation from both sides and try and figure out how you could be at fault, if she sees you doing that she'll eventually do the same, and that's where it really becomes enjoyable.
>I'm going to write a self help book one of these days

[Anonymous No.3829975]

>>3829954
lolz typo

there supposed to be a "don't" between who and understands, and the god damn link didn't link to the original

[Anonymous No.3829984]

>>3829974

Why am I burdened with the responsibility of deciding? We both don't care what we eat, or whatever we're deciding. It makes no sense to me.

But I guess idiots don't deserve girlfriends in the first place.

[Anonymous No.3829990]

>>3829984
What the hell man?
First I think you need to step back and see the futility of it. It's not a big deal.
Life 101: if you don't make it a big deal then it will never become a big deal.
Deciding where to go out to eat isn't a burden, it's just deciding where to eat.
Do you have to call your mother every time you want a goddamn snack?

[Anonymous No.3829997]

>>3829990
I was using burden as a word, not in its literal sense.

And you don't have to make me feel bad, I do that well enough already.

[Anonymous No.3830005]

>>3829997
Grow some balls man, she left you because you're a pussy, but you don't have to be a pussy.
Find some nice archetype men to emulate.

[Anonymous No.3830009]

>>3830005
I know I'm a pussy. Why do you think I want to kill myself every day?

[Anonymous No.3830013]

>>3830009
Jesus Christ man.
Just fucking take control, be a man.
I don't care how deep and edgy you are, once you take control of your life and start making decisions and doing things you're going to enjoy life. In fact, if you're anything like me, you're going to become terrified of death.

[Anonymous No.3830017]

>>3830009
What that guy's saying would have flustered me a few years ago but he's actually right.

This whole feminist movement has really just expanded what women can be and do, but men are still expected to be men.

[Anonymous No.3830019]

>>3830013
I'm not trying to be edgy or deep. I know it comes off that way, and that's why I never talk to people about how much I hate life.

But whatever, I decided to post my crappy poem here and I must face the consequences if I can call it that.

[Anonymous No.3830020]

>>3830005

indeed this is not true. You need not emulate anyone. Be yourself and in the end you will be happier for it

[Anonymous No.3830021]

>>3830020
If you don't pick someone to emulate you just become a mix of everyone you grow up with.
Might as well take control of who you become.

[Anonymous No.3830024]

>>3830021
I, for one, am captian picard.

[Anonymous No.3830026]

>>3830020
>>3830021

As of this moment, as well as for the past however many years, I really don't want to be me.

[Anonymous No.3830028]

>>3830026
You are nobody in particular though.

It's about what you do, not who you are. Stare long enough into the abyss and it will stare back and you and whatnot.

[Anonymous No.3830029]

>>3830026
Well then go somewhere else. It's not what I want for you (and it's not really what you want for you, you pussy) but if it's what you really want then do it.

[Anonymous No.3830030]

>>3830009
You want to be the one that suffers? Stop being a bitch and deal with it internally. Then you can die every day of your life. But, at least people will develop some god damn respect for you. And, by the end of it, you'll have some damn respect for yourself. Don't go through the trouble of convincing yourself to feel better. Be better. Depression is not an excuse to diminish your character. It's a limitation that I fight with, and I suspect you do as well. I lost my grandmother to the same thing. But after she died I was given a decision. Am I going to allow this to ruin my life, destroy my family, and worst of all diminish my character? I have my lows, but I'll be damned if I follow in that coward's footsteps. I suggest you do the same.

[Anonymous No.3830037]

>>3830028
I do nothing. Therefore, aren't I nothing?

>>3830029
What do you, Anon, want for me?

>>3830030
Do you know the funny thing? People tell others to share their feelings, they can't let get all bottled up. Then, when they DO share, they're told to shove it and leave everyone else alone.

You're essentially telling me to hold my feelings in, right?

[Anonymous No.3830042]

>>3830037
Anything you feel nowadays is a simulation.

>I do nothing.
You wrote a poem.

[Anonymous No.3830043]

>>3830037
I want you to stop being a pussy and be the badass hairless ape that you are, a creature that doesn't give a fuck about existential crises's because he's too busy controlling his environment and fucking bitches and enjoying the beautiful burst of happy chemicals in his brain.
Life 262: Distraction=happiness

[Anonymous No.3830048]

>>3830042
A simulation?

I am a poem?

>>3830043
I assume you aren't being literal.

[Anonymous No.3830053]

>>3830043
You were good up until this point. Not everyone can be alpha, and fetishizing happiness never helped anyone except corporations and pharmacies.

>>3830048
Sure

[Anonymous No.3830054]

>>3830053
What does that even mean?

[Anonymous No.3830060]

>>3830048
No, I am being literal you dumb cunt.
>>3830053
Everyone submits to distraction at some level, if we didn't we'd all kill ourselves. Whats wrong with acknowledging it and embracing it?
I'm not saying go out and shoot herion while paying money to see michael bay movies, but I am saying forget about meaninglessness and just give in to enjoyment.

[Anonymous No.3830061]

>>3830060
also, enjoyment/=mindless enjoyment

[Anonymous No.3830062]

>>3830060
I enjoy meaninglessness.

[Anonymous No.3830063]

>>3830060
I can't devolve. At least literally.

[Anonymous No.3830064]

>>3830037
What is it when someone tells you not to bottle things up. When they tell you it's going to hurt in the long run? They're doubting you. They think so little of you and so high of themselves that they feel only they can fix you. That's a lie, that's an insult, and that's vain. You can be self dependent. There will come a point, while you fight the voices of doubt in yourself, where you'll think "look how far i've made it. On my own." and you will see how much of a badass you really are. Yes, they won't know how hard it is, but that's not theirs to know. They haven't earned that right. Take what nearly kills you and use it as your weapon. Be a good person, be everything those that doubted you wished they could be. And don't let others or yourself get in the way of that.

[Anonymous No.3830065]

>>3830053
This
>>3830043
wasn't me.
>>3830064
is me

[Anonymous No.3830066]

Everyday some women will try to make you believe that they are all that matters in the world and your whole life should revolve around trying to get sex. But this isn't true, you can be happy without a girlfriend in your life. You can also be happy with a girlfriend. Problems happen when a girl is being flirtatious, but is just your friend. If that is the case you must realize she only wants to be wanted, and you don't really need her to be happy. Wait for a girl to show some genuine interest in you, like she wants a real relationship, and you will find the experience much more enjoyable than chasing after that girl who wants to be wanted. Even though it's nice, though, it is not a life changing event, and you must realize contentedness can still be found with no female sex partner. That's why masturbation and porn exist. It really is just society and other girls, telling you need a girl to be happy. If you are feeling depressed and alone because you've never had a girlfriend or think you really need one again, really think about how you feel like that. It probably isn't because of real, physical needs, but just the part of your brain that wants to fit in to society. Needing a girlfriend after not having one for a few years, or having to not be a virgin. Just being aware, of what's going on in your mind, helps

[Anonymous No.3830067]

>>3830065
Saved your reputation.

[Anonymous No.3830068]

>>3830064
But I haven't MADE it anywhere? I have nothing to show for all the pain I cause myself.

>Sorry I completely derailed the thread, OP.

[Anonymous No.3830069]

>>3830063
It's not about "devolving" it's about not being a cunt.
There's no meaning to any of it, that's apparent, now that we've made that clear we can pick one of two paths,
#1 release control of you're muscles and stop breathing, because it's all pointless. You will die soon after choosing #1
#2 forget that there's not meaning (not that hard) and embrace your existence through distraction.

Unhappy people all try to mix #1 and #2, dead people pick #1 and happy people pick #2.
It's literally that simple.

[Anonymous No.3830072]

I know you don’t have much family left around and I understand how important your uncle is to you, but you can’t put me through that again. Not like that.” Anna looked very distraught but did not respond, only sat and looked on at Mark with a doleful gaze. “ I have to go back to work at the Hotel in a few days and we both know I won’t be able to see anymore days off for God knows how long, so it’s not like I’d even be able to go with you.” “I’m sorry, Mark. I mean, I hate the idea of leaving anywhere without you and Sam being there as well. You know that. You two are the most precious things in the world to me. I miss you guys when just running to the store for a soda, Mark. I know you know that.” Frustration and irritation were more than apparent from Mark, but he was trying to calm himself before getting too worked up over the issue.

“I know that, Anna. Of course I do. Though, going overseas at the drop of a dime like that when you have a family… you know I’m behind you and trust you with anything you feel you need to do, but you’ve got to appreciate my feelings on the matter, especially when there’s no definite return time, it’s only understandable. Anna put up a smile and said “I understand, I give you my word Mark, I will only be a week. I promise you that. If he doesn’t show any signs of improving at all by the upper end of the week, I’ll just set up some sort of arrangement and have someone look after him until things get better. No longer than one week.” Mark felt a bit apprehensive of what was said but he knew his wife and would ultimately place his trust in her anyway. “A week then?” “yeah.” “well, at least you let me know with style. I do appreciate the deluxe treatment and handling of the situation.” Anna smiled and said “just wait till I get you home. This is nothing.”

[Anonymous No.3830073]

>>3830072

A scene from a restaurant. Aside from the obvious terrible punctuation, w-what do you think, guys? My first writing attempt really. Be gentle...please..

[Anonymous No.3830074]

>>3830066

I've been depressed long before I even met her. She's the only one who has made me happy to be alive. I know it seems like it is JUST about her, but it isn't.

[Anonymous No.3830076]

>>3830069
You are essentially saying ignorance is bliss, right?

[Anonymous No.3830078]

http://pastebin.com/L2mNFHvL Be honest

[Anonymous No.3830079]

>>3830072
you say Mark too many times. Your technical grammar is a bit buggered

not terribly engaging. Okay for the middle of a chapter but not the start

there's no tension at all

[Anonymous No.3830080]

>>3830074
She didn't make you happy to be alive, the distraction she provided by releasing those sweet happy chemicals into your brain made you happy.
Are you all really too stupid to see that?
Why wouldn't you embrace those happy chemicals?
>>3830076
No, I'm saying everything is pointless and you can either live with that thought constantly at the back of your mind, or forget it through distraction.
It doesn't make 1 shit of a difference either way, one way is just more "enjoyable"

[Anonymous No.3830083]

>>3830080
Chopping little girls to pieces releases happy chemicals for me.

[Anonymous No.3830084]

>>3830068
I know you haven't made it. You have made that very clear with each post you've made. If what you have done so far was what I were to call success, then I would be a failure. I'll break it down for you right now and give you some perspective that you're to low to see right now. You're dealing with some shit. And there's no better word for it than pure, unadulterated shit. But when you reach that point where you can't take it anymore, you will find yourself standing at a forked road. One sign's gonna read "Give up. We were right and everyone that loved you was wrong." And the other, "Fight. Each day I am thrown into the pit, I will compensate with victory." Choose a fucking path.

[Anonymous No.3830085]

>>3830080
And did you read what I said? She's the only thing in existence that GAVE me those chemicals you speak of.

You're talking about ignorance is bliss, too.

[Anonymous No.3830089]

>>3830080
>the distraction she provided by releasing those sweet happy chemicals into your brain made you happy.
>Are you all really too stupid to see that?
>Why wouldn't you embrace those happy chemicals?

not the guy but

morals, its a thing where you think about humans as people not chemical catalysts

[Anonymous No.3830093]

>>3830084
I really don't understand. You're saying either die, or keep living while you hate yourself and believe you're a waste of blood cells?

[Anonymous No.3830094]

>>3830083
Then fucking do it. It doesn't fucking matter. See? I'm consistant.
Also, that doesn't make you happy you're just using it as a dumb argument.
>>3830085
No she's the only thing your pussy ass has found so far that gives you those chemicals.
If she really is the only thing then stop being such a massive faggot and get her back.
>>3830089
Well I got bad news for you jack, we aint nothing but chemical catalysts and no matter how bad you want that to be different it never will be.

[Anonymous No.3830095]

>>3830089
I think he's pretending to be the other guy who's actually giving decent advice.

Also this thread is embarrassing.

>>3830094
It will be different as our language evolves. There were people centuries ago who said we would never be anything but material souls and that God and Satan were in a struggle over influencing you.

We'll get bored of calling it chemicals someday too.

[Anonymous No.3830097]

Jeremy time

The alarm went off with the old cuckoo cuckoo. Descending downstairs, left foot after the right, George tiptoed each individual step on the case, taking care to avoid the creaky spots that would wake up his mother snoozing on the leather settee below. Juxtaposed to to his sleeping mother a recording of a muted Jeremy Kyle from the Sky box was playing. Jeremy was a monkey suit giving his best spastic impression with arms flailing and spittle flying as silent screams at a craggy looking old man were met with dark glares. His target was to reach the bathroom for his morning shower which was adjoined with the kitchen, you had to go through the living room to reach it.

[Anonymous No.3830098]

>>3830094

You can't have someone that doesn't love you anymore. That doesn't mean you don't want them back.

[Anonymous No.3830100]

>>3830078
I know about the plothole thing, but its unfinished.

[Anonymous No.3830101]

>>3830095
Wow so deep dude.
It doesn't matter what we call them, a fucking rose is still a rose by any other goddamn name.
It's just how our brains work, there's no bullshitting your way around it.
>>3830098
Protip: get off your ass and change yourself for the better to try and get her back. If you get her back, you get her back. If you don't get her back you're a better person with more self confidence now capable of finding and getting better, more attractive women. You will quickly forget about her. You're not the first guy to think you'll never get over a girl.

[Anonymous No.3830105]

>>3830094
you really are very passionate about that view of thins. I suppose in real life you view it's the same? Like, I guess psychopaths an serial killers are truly and genuinely no problem for you, if you are this consistent, and you wouldn't really care. Are the words you type right now really how you truly act in real life? I don't know. It seems like you're putting on the act of "just do anything if it agrees with my opinion, I am being this serious about my opinion, I don't care about the consequences". In real life youre the same too? It's easy to say on the internet

[Anonymous No.3830107]

>>3830103
In life I do what makes me happy. On the internet i tell people that doing what makes them happy will make them happy.
I don't understand what's so confusing.

[Anonymous No.3830108]

>>3830101
What I said was the opposite of deep. You're on a literature board so you should understand the basic effects of signs and signifiers.

I'm not saying the chemicals aren't there, I'm just saying it's stupid to assume people 1000 years from now are going to think about it in exactly the same way you or I do.

[Anonymous No.3830109]

>>3830107

I mean about you told that guy that you wouldn't care if what made him happy was killing people or whatever

[Anonymous No.3830111]

>>3830101
I feel like I'm back at /adv/. I suppose it's what I should be doing if it's the most recommended thing though.

[Anonymous No.3830115]

>>3830108
What? I never said they would. But no matter what they think the chemicals will still be there dictating their thoughts
>>3830109
If you truly believe that life has no objective meaning, then murder no longer has meaning.
I truly do not care if killing people makes him happy. I do care if he kills people I like though, because that makes my brain shoot out the not so happy chemicals. See?

[Anonymous No.3830117]

>>3830093
That is the exact opposite of what I am saying. You either die, or take the challenge. Life is not going to be handed to you. You're gonna be kicked while you're down and right now you're the one doing the kicking. Take some pride in you achievements and faith that there's more to come. It's up to you.

[Anonymous No.3830119]

>>3830115
>But no matter what they think the chemicals will still be there dictating their thoughts

You're using language again.

[Anonymous No.3830123]

>>3830115

I guess I see

[Anonymous No.3830124]

>>3830117
I really need a 4chan implant in my head. It'll make me feel better about being on 4chan instead of doing something meaningful.

[Anonymous No.3830125]

>>3830119
Because language is the only medium through which I can communicate ideas.
Language is subjective, but the fact that tiny chemicals exist in out brain and give us the illusion of consciousness is not, that is objective and will never change regardless of what words you use to express the idea.

[Anonymous No.3830127]

we are overcomplicating things everyone! life is easy, just relax

[Anonymous No.3830128]

>>3830125
I would agree with you if you were more eloquent about it.

I'm that kind of person.

[Anonymous No.3830130]

>>3830127
That's actually exactly what I'm trying to say
>>3830128
I'm only using childish language because I'm on 4chan. Not that I'm deep IRL or anything, I just don't actually talk like that if that helps my point.

[Anonymous No.3830139]

>>3830130
I understand. I'm just saying that as long as people make grand statements about the nature reality using "childish" language or without using a story to illustrate, I will disagree with them.

That's why, for me personally, a lot more depends on aesthetics than logic. That's why I still disagree with you (humph).

[Anonymous No.3830145]

>>3830139
Whatever makes you happy man
zing
I'm going to bed, enjoyed it huys

[Anonymous No.3830146]

>>3830145
Guys*
hue

[Anonymous No.3830149]

>>3830145
Fuck you

;)

[Anonymous No.3830162]

Man, I screwed this thread up.

[Anonymous No.3830177]

>>3830079

thanks, any tips at all?

[Anonymous No.3830213]

This is all I have from the thing I'm working on. The rest is in a notebook. I'm starting to type it now.

>inb4 edgy

Spoiled meat and a partially snapped pearl white femur bulged from
the merchant's stump of a leg. Maggots wriggled across his tattered
overcoat and in and out of his smashed forehead. Sigmund and Sir Carpenter
both stared down into the muddy ditch from the slanted banks. The midday heat
cooked the stinch out of the body and the miasma hung low with no breeze to
steer it. Sigmund grunted and slung a film of sweat from off of his brow.

"So he's dead," Sigmund said.

"Correct," Sir Carpenter replied.

[Anonymous No.3830220]

Does anyone else feel it impossible to write without a keyboard or to read on a computer screen? I feel so backwards.

[Anonymous No.3830749]

This poem.

Is all I have.

Left to give you.

It is mine for now.

As I write it.

You can't even see it.

I am in control.

You cannot tell me when to end.

I can.

I am God.

You don't exist in this moment.

And yet.

I hope to share what is to come.

I do know you are going to read this.

The joy of freedom I experienced in your moment.

Has made it all worth it.

So I give thanks.

[Anonymous No.3830757]

>>3830213

no one has ever said "correct" outside of jeopardy

[Anonymous No.3830812]

>>3830749
beautiful.

[Anonymous No.3831123]

>>3830220
yeah absolutely

[Anonymous No.3831237]

Saying that an ending is the start of a new beginning is bullshit. Romero knew this. The world doesn't always give you a second shot, and in those cases, the end is just that, an ending. He became aware of how almost funny his thoughts were, since the first shot was what got him here in the first place. Right in the gut, bang.

Vaguely conscious, he was past the point of panic. He never was one for a show. A plain-clothed nurse was telling him he would be fine, but though he returned her smile, he knew. Romero wasn't an idiot, uneducated maybe, but not an idiot.

He knew, today, he would end.

(This was a short writing exercise, I would love some critique on it. I'll be giving some critiques out in a bit as well.)

[Anonymous No.3831281]

>>3830749
>You don't exist in this moment.
>I do know you are going to read this.
Assuming this poem is for your future/newborn son/daughter; what if the baby dies in the middle of birth? what if he is born blind? what if he/she becomes autistic and is incapable of comprehending text? what if he/she gets bitten by a dog with rabies before he/she has managed to learn how to read?

[Anonymous No.3831347]

>>3829425
come on, someone?

even if it's just "Read the first paragraph and stopped"

[Anonymous No.3831355]

I could see the black house where the tracks split - the house which had no road in front of it, no garden behind it and no neighbours either side. It was typically English: small and skewiff - bricks from the houses demolished either side of it jutted out from the walls of it. Where it was I don't remember; one of those slums that councils had spent hundreds of years trying to clear. Moating this house were two train tracks that diverged meters outside the front door. On either side of those tracks laid another pair further trapping the house in. I remember something in the article was strange.

They were building a new railway line and it went through several streets. The railway company had rehoused all the families displaced except this one. It was a man, I'm almost certain it was a man and he refused to budge - but that wasn't the strange thing. The company had offered him a good price for his house, they'd found him somewhere nice to move to but he wouldn't move. From the outside in they begun to build the line, first the homes at each end of the road were demolished and each one further in followed suit. They laid down the gravel and the rails until this man's house was left but he still refused to go. At the end of his fence there was no street for him to walk down, no corner shop to buy a chocolate bar in or any gutter for him to vomit in on the way home. But he still refused to move. Then the company realised that every other line had been built and they didn't need his house to be flattened after all and let him be. But that wasn't the strange thing either.

[Anonymous No.3831374]

Is non-fiction allowed?

[None !XfX7HPIO4I No.3831511]

Since i am a spanish fag most of you wouldn't be able to read the thing and i don't want to translate it, so here goes the central points of the trama:
>Before time, the big bang is preparing, in the center of a single sphere of existence a being is dreaming.
>He wakes up, "his arms where as big as the universe, because he was the universe"
Left hand has seven fingers, and is the harmony(creation), from his fingers light emanated to the mist of the nothingness.
Right hand has 2 fingers and is the chaos(change) and from the infinite space between his fingers a ray of black light is emanated to the mist of the nothingness.
His eyes have infinite stars "and every single one more beautiful than the most perfect of the diamonds"
>he screams, creating a million of suns, he blows and creates a million of planets.
>he "enters" his body exploring the universe with his mind while his boy is left unattended.
(note:for him the time pass a lot faster, a million years in a second)
>he touches a planet and a green wave of life expands on it.
>he wants this universe to be a singularity, not a myriad of realitys but a single, perfect, gem of existence.
>he created life in a million worlds, then discovers than his ethereal being has legs, one has orange fur and the other has scales and gems covering it.
>is going to sleep in his bodie because "the life was something beautiful and even him has to pay a price to create it".
>a supernova hapends when he is going trough a sun "and wasn't the supernova itself who killed him, but the event and his connotation.His death was caused by his death itself."
>230 years latter five beings are born from his ethereal essence:
>>Casiopea, avatar of the Harmony and mother of the Magicae Portarent.
>>The One Without Name, avatar of the chaos and creator of the fallen ones.
>>Glaurung, father of the dragons and sigul of the Courage, follower of the harmony.
>>Sekhet, mother of the Kajhiit, sigul of the war, follower of the chaos.
1/2?

[None !XfX7HPIO4I No.3831544]

2/2
>>Aeris, the vigilant, father and mother of the Animas, not a follower of chaos or harmony but of the balance between them.
>They look the ethereal essence of Him for a long time[except Aeris, who traveled away inmediatly after his creation] and ask it they desserve to exist.
>Each one decides to create a specie to follow hist task.
(for now Sekhet and Glaurung doesn't matter)
>The One Without a Name creates the changers, who didn't have any real aspect but tat they decide to take, have the earth, the magic and the air but preffer the earth.
They can feed of other emotions without damaging them as long as they don't abuse of that.
Due to constant change of the word where they live, the changers die.
>Casiopea creates the Magicae Portarent, who expands and evolves[T.O.W.A.N. where introducing little a quantity of chaos to help them evolve without Casiopea knowledge] and come to dominate the travel between the worlds.
>T.O.W.A.N. angers because while he helped Casiopea, Casiopea never helped him, and now his sons and daughters are dead
>Goes away and Casiopea does the same and finds a world with minimal vigital life, and creates two beings who represent the posibility of union between chaos and harmony
>>Lilith, the chaotic harmony, who is wise in the talk but acts without thinking.
>>Nannar, the harmonyc chaos, who is slow in the worlds and planns every movement
>>They call themselves "The changing harmony and the entropic chaos"
This is all i have for now, yay or nay?

[Anonymous No.3831808]

Come on /lit/, give feedback to the stories that got none yet.
[Spoiler]I'd do it myself but I suck at critizising stuff.[/Spoiler]

[Anonymous No.3831867]

A strange feeling came over him as he left his house that night. It was summer, and though the sun had long ago set the air was still humid, thick, almost a fluid. As he walked through town he felt that the people he was passing were in fact not there, or that he wasn't. It was like he had entered a plane of existence few ever reach, a state where nothing mattered, no-one mattered, the others and what they thought of him didn't matter. As he reached the forest he reached into his pocket and felt the cold steel. Soon it would end, and bliss would come.

I literally justy wrote this in about 2 minutes, and it probably shows.

[Anonymous No.3832109]

the hyperlink ("odd music") is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lb2jDNZ5JuQ

you could play it while you read if you want

[Anonymous No.3832783]

>>3831281
Yes, because poetry is all about practical application to reality

[Anonymous No.3832786]

>>3831867

is it about a guy about to commit suicide?

[Anonymous No.3832795]

This thread is "post, no one reads" edition.
Oh yeah, how much caracteres a short story have? Thinking about write a first person zombie genre about a guy becoming a zombie and how his instincts take over. Going with an stream of consciouness and he becomes a zombie. I'll do a short story because there is not reason to make something with such story, plus a whole novel using stream of consciouness to narrate things will become annoying.

[Anonymous No.3832866]

Doctor Lewis walked into the waiting room, clipboard in hand, and scanned everyone sitting down, looking sick. His eyes met mine.
"Ah, Mr. Martin!" he said enthusiastically, he struck something off his clipboard and then motioned for me to follow him. I followed down a long hallway, filled with posters meant to demotivate smokers or drug users, filled with horrible, horrible depictions of what would happen to you if you took did those things. We came to a room with the words "Dr Lewis" engraved on them. He opened the door for me then urged me inside. My legs felt like jelly already. He sat down on his red chair and began looking through files on a computer. His chin was rested on his hand, but he wasn't making a sound. I took the initiative to sit down on the bed with blue sheets. Just as I did, he looked up from the computer screen and stared at me.
"According to these recent tests, average life expectancy is predicted to be around 6 months."
For a while I didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry" he said.

whatya think

[Anonymous No.3832886]

>>3831355
was pretty good, I enjoyed the second half of the second paragraph, it flowed nicely. And I am left wondering what the strange thing is

[Anonymous No.3832894]

Why do we listlessly wait for life to realize our potential? Is it vain, misguided indifference that drives our apathy to let others define ourselves? But then again, how do we begin to define ourselves at all? Is it some innocuous hobby? Is it a profession or skill? How can we ever begin to brand the complexity of the human soul? The art of true introspection seems to have been lost in the tumult of technology and progressivity. There’s constantly and consistently something distracting us, drawing us outward, making us forget, forcing our attention into the nether. The remains: a hollow husk, a zombie consumer, an ideal citizen. Could humanity be at a precipice where it forgets itself? Do we collectively need to study our souls? What the fuck counts for a philosopher these days? Is it the lens of history and nostalgia that allows us to identify the pivotal cultural monuments, or have we really lost ourselves? Where is my Plato? Am I too busy searching for relevance that the essential moments are passing me by? Am I too caught up in wondering “Is this the moment?” to know when that moment has actually come? For Christ’s Sake, what is that moment anyway? Why do I plague myself with revisions, revisions, revisions, of moments past and future, of a smile instead of a wink, of just wondering what I could have done differently? I sincerely hope I never lose my interest in the human condition. After all, what else is there? Do I succumb to the daily quotidian tasks of the innocuous hobby, of the unfulfilling career, of the hour-long traffic jam? Shouldn’t life just be more? Then why is everyone so goddamn unwilling to think about anything? I don’t believe myself to be “enlightened” in any way, but I do believe myself to be aware. Awareness is that thing that happens when society has momentarily lost its grip on you. It allows you to question the very basic nature of why you are here, and why you are who you are, and how you became that way.

[Anonymous No.3832903]

Why do we listlessly wait for life to realize our potential? Is it vain, misguided indifference that drives our apathy to let others define ourselves? But then again, how do we begin to define ourselves at all? Is it some innocuous hobby? Is it a profession or skill? How can we ever begin to brand the complexity of the human soul?

The art of true introspection seems to have been lost in the tumult of technology and progressivity. There’s constantly and consistently something distracting us, drawing us outward, making us forget, forcing our attention into the nether. The remains: a hollow husk, a zombie consumer, an ideal citizen. Could humanity be at a precipice where it forgets itself? Do we collectively need to study our souls? What the fuck counts for a philosopher these days? Is it the lens of history and nostalgia that allows us to identify the pivotal cultural monuments, or have we really lost ourselves? Where is my Plato? Am I too busy searching for relevance that the essential moments are passing me by? Am I too caught up in wondering “Is this the moment?” to know when that moment has actually come? For Christ’s Sake, what is that moment anyway?

Why do I plague myself with revisions, revisions, revisions, of moments past and future, of a smile instead of a wink, of just wondering what I could have done differently? I sincerely hope I never lose my interest in the human condition. After all, what else is there? Do I succumb to the daily quotidian tasks of the innocuous hobby, of the unfulfilling career, of the hour-long traffic jam? Shouldn’t life just be more? Then why is everyone so goddamn unwilling to think about anything? I don’t believe myself to be “enlightened” in any way, but I do believe myself to be aware. Awareness is that thing that happens when society has momentarily lost its grip on you. It allows you to question the very basic nature of why you are here, and why you are who you are, and how you became that way.

[Anonymous No.3832908]

>>3832903
. It’s ultimately important and completely inconsequential. Why doesn’t everyone become aware? Are they afraid of reconnecting with the soul that they had long abandoned for the comfort of unthinking? Is all of this just a yearning for a past I’ve never known, and a past that could very well have never existed? I have got to believe that we are better than this. Our minds and our souls are lifetimes apart. We feel, and we think, but rarely do we think about what we feel. As if we’re just a blank canvas for emotions to be painted on, and discarded for another canvas on another day, and so on for eternity. Have the rapid connections we enjoy brought us out of touch with our humanity? I hope not. Dear God, I truly hope not.

[Anonymous No.3832954]

A cacophony of conversation, spoken in a dozen tongues, filled the room. It was as busy a night as any other in the dingy bar right off the wharfs of Victoria Harbor. The heady mixture of booze, piss and the sea pervaded the place, as sailors of all stripes and colors spent their pay and their leave drowning themselves in cheap liquor. A rather gaunt middle-aged man stood behind the bar, cleaning glasses with an old rag. He wore a contented expression, and with good reason. A busy night, yet there hadn't been a single fight. That was cause for celebration if there ever were one. Fights were becoming all too common these days.

Brawls are a natural state of affairs in any pub, especially those that play host to irritable, rowdy sailors from around the world, but this spike went beyond the intrinsic drunken violence. Tensions were at an all time high between the Republic of China and the Empire of Japan, and thus so were those here in Hong Kong. The Nips had been nipping away at China for years and the outbreak of full scale war seemed just around the corner. And when it finally occurred, trade in the region would be brought to a standstill, leaving many of the sailors currently dulling their anxieties out of a job.

As the bartender mused over the worsening political climate and how it would affect his business, the door opened. Drunken chatter ceased momentarily as many of the patrons stole quick glances to sate their curiosity. The bartender himself glanced over to size up the new arrival, only to be greeted with an all too familiar face. His contented expression vanished immediately.

[Anonymous No.3832965]

>>3832903
>>3832908
If I wanted to listen to pseudo-philosophical ramblings I'd drink a coke, masturbate, and stare at the ceiling all night.

Really though, this is difficult to get through.

[Anonymous No.3832976]

>>3832954

good i thought, read nicely, is this in ancient times? I am intrigued by who the familiar face is.

[Anonymous No.3832983]

>>3832976
1930s actually.

[Anonymous No.3833235]

Chapter 4


The fauna around me was lusterous, and fluorescent. The air was sweet and warm in my lungs, as I breathed deeply, soaking the in the wonderful sights before me. Sitting on top of a soft, baby blue blanket above the fresh, green grass, was my mother.
She turned to look at me and her lips moved as if she was talking, but there was no sound emitting from her mouth. Calling her name out no sound escaped my lips.
The rain had begun to fall in the small paradise, tepid as it descended from the sky, wrapping itself around me. As I walked towards my mother, the farther she seemed to be, I only wished to seek comfort in her warm motherly embrace. The sun was rising and filling the strange garden with light, dancing across the glassy rain drops.
The light soon enveloped me, and I awoke.

[Anonymous No.3833236]

>>3833235
motherly embrace**