/lit/ - Literature

>It's possible at Harvard Medical School and Yale Law School, which both have resident therapy dogs in their libraries that can be borrowed through the card catalog just like a book.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/12/colleges-turn-to-dogs-to-help-finals-stress_n_1512156.html

Rambunctious shimmering of joys glimmer amongst platitudes of scintillating films gentle chorusing between and through one another.

>>3520549
I fucking hated that sentence

Today I woke up extremely hungover. On a pissed soak mattress. Not even my piss.
So i got up. Everything was blurry in my vision. I found my way into bathroom and jumped in the shower. There was some drunk kid in the shower with his top off and throw up all down him. There was also pen scribbles all over his skin. Penises, vaginas, poos and the like. The kid got blasted with cold water when I turned the shower on and that made him get out pretty sharp.
Later on I sat on the sofa in amongst piles of filth and rolled several cigarettes. Then I set them down and put them on fire. I put my face over the smouldering smoking mass of cigarettes and breathed in the fumes.

It hasn't rained here for weeks. I stood outside today and yelled out 'rain!'
It rained a little tonight, but I found this site so I'm good:

http://www.rainymood.com/

RanDoM PenGuIn ThReEAddd :PP

I like this girl. I wish I could melt into her. Love. Her smell.

Good thread, OP. I wrote that from the heart.

double time
stand to plate
nothing to gain
live or die
another waste
add nothing no taste to taste
bring up forth
call old friends
bring at home
love to lend
a bit of a hand to lend here and there
and don’t explain
i don’t like the look of things
run in circles
bring another day
choose a different path
or try another way
just keep walking

>>3520592
it was awful though

Apparently nothing at all.

>>3520594
fuck you /lit/ i don't care if it sucks

I like Chinese girls so much hnnggggg

>>3520597

as long as it is written with feeling, it is a success in my eyes.

>>3520599
no

A man is conference calling a more mature gentleman, it is a business conference, they discuss strategies, policy, profit margins and other bullshit. It cuts off and the man stands up, revealing patterned underpants and hairy legs. Socks intact. He manoeuvres clumsily to the side and makes a bowl of cereal. Morosely, the spoon moves within his hand, to put the slop in his mouth. His eyes are empty and staring into the distance, withdrawn into thought about something deep. The empty bowl goes back onto the side, and the man moves again, to the sofa, unbuttoning his shirt on the way. Throws himself down and looks around. A newspaper lays beside him and catches his eye, so he picks it up and flicks through the pages. He reaches a page that seems to speak to him, and ponders it carefully ‘Gang rape by six men’. Perhaps he wondered how a man could do that. Perhaps he thought about the cheats he used to use on his super nintendo. He also maybe thought about those prostitutes he used to get an erection over in Grand Theft Auto.
A fly begins to buzz around his nose, zipping by his nose, twitching his eye. He attempts a few waves to tempt away the fly, but it keeps returning. It becomes too much and he slams the paper down as cursive words spit out of his mouth. His movements become more agile through the anger and he marched to the bathroom to throw on the shower. Maybe it had been a week, maybe two, since last washing.
Maybe he thinks he should call Adele. Maybe not.

>>3520599
It was. It felt good to say that.

The phone rings and it’s only Gilbert. Gilbert wants to come over and shoot ideas, only he only seems to come and smoke his marijuana before forgetting to shoot his ideas. He hints that his wife doesn’t like it, which perhaps is the reason he finds such solace in the man and his messy home. He liked Gilbert anyway. A big gape of a man who dressed simply. Men who dressed simply became something of a treasure in these days. Children of 14 and 15 were often seen walking around in multitudes of dyed materials of the latest fashion. Things that once were staples of old gentlemen’s clothing was now big time with little kids. Cardigans and corderoids. It’s a shame old people are discardable, where they were once revered and should be revered. No body else has experienced as much as them. For some reason, youth is something desirable, the surface desires of beauty and wild hormones, prioritised over knowledge and the wisdom of the elder. The former is easer to sell things to. Thinking free being left for the philosophers, radicals, and what society would call the mentally ill.
The man is done with his shower and is waiting for gilbert to arrive, makes a cup of tea and sits quietly, meditatively. Gilbert eventually swans in, something in his mouth has smoke pluming out of it and smells a lot like marijuana. The men greet each other and Gilbert scans the room touching things and scanning with his eyes like a robot. The man repositions himself on the sofa and tells Gilbert to sit down. He asks if he’s still smoking the stuff and asks if he wants a nice cold beer instead. Gilbert explained that the mans condescending tones were lost on him and that while alcohol related deaths were in there thousands, the effect of marijuana on health was very little. The man was getting a beer for himself and popped the cap off. The man explained that the actual effects of marijuana on health were actually very little researched, whereby alcohol is served in every other shop.

>>3520610
Please stop writing

>>3520614
The marketing of alcohol makes it socially acceptable, which in turn makes it become widely available and mass produced, so made available much cheaper. The bottom of the barrel, the scrapings of society, the alpha males of society, the geeks of society, the depressed - everybody has a use for alcohol. At this point he dramatically clutches at his chest, falling to his knees whilst making airy raspy noises out of his mouth. Gilbert laughs. Everybody experiences death. The probability that a number of deaths be experienced in close proximity to alcohol is obvious and elementary. Gilbert laughs again and stubs out his roach. His eyes are droopy and he now looks half there and half somewhere else. Perhaps he was thinking about people drinking alcohol. The man continues to sip his beer, perhaps with an intent to pillage his thoughts further. Though Gilbert looks over and starts talking about a woman at his workplace and how his opinion of her had changed and how that often happens with Gilbert. He says he think that he judges people too much in order to make sense of his position in their eyes, and that these judgments, though true and accurate at the time, were actually defensive tactics in order to avoid using aggression and born also from insecurity. In particular, the story was about a woman who had been treating him with little respect, it was in her tone of voice, he said, it was in the way she interacted with him and all those around him in fact. At first he had assumed she was a very rude, hateful and wicked woman, who should receive bad illnesses from the cosmos. The man is now thinking about Adele, staring at his beer label, half listening to Gilbert. Gilbert goes on to say that as time went on he observed a many thing.

more Gilbert?

>>3520614
Quit hatin' nigga

>>3520641
Quit writin' nigga

>>3520642

>>3520642

He said that there was a point when he realised this woman wasn’t intentionally rude, dismissive and mannerless. It was simply that she had no people skills. In fact, she was a very high strung lady, and as Gilbert spent more time with and around her (only once rising to the woman’s attitude to which she became very apologetic) the more he listened, the more she gave herself away to him. A member of a large family of 9 brothers and sisters, she the youngest. A sister died from a drink driver hitting her car when she was only 20. She has a son with severe learning difficulties and a thousand bills to pay. He realised she was cripplingly insecure and though now she has found her place and confidence in her work used to be very shy and wouldn’t dare speak aloud. Gilbert said that as they were forced to spend more time together, it’s almost as if they understood each other more and more, it was like a bridge was able to form between them and they eventually came to dancing together on that bridge with their common creativity and dark humour. All that other stuff, the rough edges, the initial hatred, or weariness of each other, was merely chaotic currents of the infinite ocean of conditional humanity, laying beneath that bridge. He lamented the human relationship akin to carving a statue out of rock. You begin with raw material; potential, a blank slate, a block of wood that just is. It doesn’t mean anything. With time, observation, creativity and good grace, he theorised, the raw material (byzantine, steel, ore) becomes something ornate, detailed and beautiful. Gilbert went as far as to say that bridge was God, but the man protested.

>>3520646
No one's reading this

He could see Gilbert was high, but lucid, and was piqued by the speech after his long droll with Alf.
The man held admiration for Gilbert’s far reaching imagination, but felt that his superfluous theorising was just that, theorising. He wanted to know how Gilbert could apply this golden bridge theory for practical use. Gilbert then asked for a sandwich. Sensing that he was stalling for time and at the same time realising he himself was quite hungry, he stood from the sofa, eyeballing Gilbert. The sandwich was a quick job because I didn’t want him dreaming up some answer. I paced back in and before the plate reached his hand he began to rant;

‘A first impression is like putting your eye right up to the sistine chapel so that all you can see is the rough texture. A snap shot, a single pixel of the whole picture. One we understand where a man is from, we can understand how he is, because a man cannot change where he is from, but he can change who he is. Usually a conflict is seen then, between the child who was and the man who is willed to perception. This man is a house of cards’

Fury. Pure, uncensored, uninhibited rage. It flows through my body, pounding against the cages of my veins. Pulsing. Beating, like the drums of war. The wrath urges me on, and on I go. The violent tempest within comes to a head; the unheard song reaches it's crescendo.
And, in a startling moment of clarity, I see what I must do.
I smile.

I realised I was thinking of you today after a friend urinated wet across his pants. It was the smell, that sour sting out of the ordinary, that jelly cream you made me rub on you that time, that bought me to you. I didn’t like it then. I don’t like it now. I’m sure now though the cream sure is made of Persian piss.
I got to thinking ‘Where are you?’ ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Are you as i’d imagined?’

Or perhaps you were quite the illusion,

There were two Czechoslovak brothers. Following the Soviet invasion in 1968, one of them emigrated to the USA, while the other stayed in Czechoslovakia. Ten years later, the emigrant brother is finally allowed to enter the country again for a short visit. He meets his brother and asks him:
- "Well tell me, how are things going here? I´m really curious to find out what´s happened here since I left!"

The Czechoslovak brother replies: "Well, things are good, I can´t complain..."

The American brother laughs and says: "Well, in America things are also good, but I can complain!"

>>3520662
>>3520676
wow this board can't write for shit

>>3520678
Hovno.

Took out my cock to piss, with no shame that i had to.

>>3520683
Aj ja ti prajem pekne popoludnie.

"You and me, me and you, the both of us, TOGETHER!"
-Mike Wazowski

>>3520696
>Aj ja ti prajem pekne popoludnie.

JJ. Děkuju.

Can you see
under the
nylon sky
today
my only
umbrella-skin hat
nibbles on your
childhood trousers
hurting your fingers
eating a stray pube with
raisin on the side.

"Interesting, isn't it?"
Doctor London, startled, glances around for the asker. He turns, meeting the gaze of Lord Researcher Paris with a touch of apprehension. What's this glorified historian doing here? He turns back to the display case for a moment, reading the Finder's Plate.
"Yeah. Very interesting, Paris. Tell me, who's the real Finder?" A smile flickers across the Lord Researcher's face. The expression lingers for a moment before disappearing without a trace.
"Why, Londie, you wound me! I -am- the true Finder. This artifact is my property, as the Plate clearly states. If I own it, then I surely Found it."
"You? Find something? Please. Your department hasn't found anything since that awful "painting". What is it? 'Moaning Liza'? Probably not the original, by the way." Paris glares at London for a moment, but his eyes drift over the Doctor's shoulders, at the display case.
"Be that as it may, my department and I agree...-that-," he points past London, at the case "is most certainly authentic. Why else would you be here, Doctor?"
London turns back to the case, placing his hand on the glass. He leans in close, watching the artifact within. It is a disgusting thing, an abomination. Whoever created it had a knack for perversion, surely. The thing was rounded all over, lacking any sharp edges. It was mostly smooth, with patches of roughness in seemingly random locations on its body. It had five extensions, two of which were pairs in appearance. Four of the five protrusions had their own extensions, five each. One pair's jutted out as obscene tendrils; the other pair's in stubby nubs. The fifth bulge, oddly enough, had no protrusions and was centered nearly dead center on the artifact. It had a strange hole at its tip.
As London took this in, Paris had stepped up to the case and stood by his side.
"Interesting, yes; but disgusting. Obscene. It is hard to believe there were once billions in this very galaxy."
Within it's cage, the last human being began to cry.

>>3520680
Better than you, m8. Anyways, I don't write. I draw.

When I was a kid I have this vague memory of a garden that was built over a massive koi pond. There were these long wooden bridges over the water, and I remember slipping my fingers in between the slats and watching the fish try to leap up to bite my fingers, but always miss and fall short. Years later, I remembered the pond and I would ask my mother about it, but she always said that she didn't know what I was talking about.

Yellow, yellow!
Hear the colors and see the sky!
Yes yes yes, indeed said I.
And with a smile and a tickle and a laugh,
The other one did ask why.

>>3520716
>Better than you, m8
>no u

>>3520710
for the love of a silver spoon
i fell into your arms
and cut by the knife
only tremendous figaro figaro

she was a lady
i was a lad
this board is bad

>>3520548
I often like to
write Haikus in my
spare time. But not today.

Centuries and Centuries,
Learning and Roaming,
Good times and Sad times.
See? Reality.
Unbelievable and Unachievable.
Certainly, I am Leaving.
Kerosene snacks and Ethanol meals.
Sayonara, Senoreta.

everyone Sees Possibility Of Reality The Sooner

I hate the person I used to be. I hate the person I am. I hate the person I know I'm going to become.
Why can't I just have abusive parents or a mental problem- anything to validate my pathetic self-pity.

>>3520750
>Why can't I just have abusive parents or a mental problem- anything to validate my pathetic self-pity.
iktf
Only I grew up eventually

P--p-pe-p3-p2eafmoas------aslapslapsamdanfagfaewflawkdowmwljmkgnnlma-wdkwo----arkarkark----------peollllepepolepoeple

‘That damn universe never works for me!’

Karma shmarma take a chicken llama! That’s what I say. ‘Be kind to the world and the world will be kind to you’ Gwar piffle poffle, what a nice way to be that is! It’s like an economy except you trade your patience, virtue, and passiveness for a good kind life. For a good life. The meaning of a good life is arbitrary these days. A good life may be laid down by a man based on what he has been deprived of as a child, or what he fears to be deprived of as an adult. Those who found it hard to find a partner in life may grow up with their eyes peeled, always looking out for that perfect partner, and miss a thousand opportunities for a thousand other great things along the way. A man who grows up in poverty might grow up with a wish to dominate the world, excusing the people or children he might tread on upon his way because ‘they’re what i used to be’ projecting, in some solipsist way, that seeing as he were able to clamber his way up, that because they didn’t, these children deserve to be stamped upon!

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! — An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. —
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, —
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

>>3520750
I cut myself on your sharp edges

>>3520765
iposteditagain.jpg

King, queen & heroine
Stereo wires & violins
To dawn, love, lust & sin.
I hold my heart, to rest within.

I like this thread OP.

It just begs for creative expression.

Fuck judgement, everybody keep writing.

it seems as if the world is consumed by earning. that is, earning in a very narrow sense. earning in numbers. earning in prestige. earning in being elevated over others.

i went to the campus english club last week. two poor, old fucks were presenting something of a guide on how to be a successful writer. the main point of this presentation is that a successful writer needs good reviews and shouldn't be afraid to pay several hundreds of dollars on an illustrator, an editor, et cetera. this association is astonishing to me.

the most outwardly interested in becoming a "great writer" among us, the club goers, was a greasy young man in a leather jacket with fur cuffs gave us a look into his world where he becomes the narrator, the main character, the actor in a "steampunk universe" with, of course, a love interest and "special powers". i have never felt so compelled to pound my head into a table.

BAH! BAH! BAH! It feels so annoying, I hate it.

My fathers brilliant mind was lost forever to the world. I found a scrawled note near his food tray by the bed, which read "Had jus, vas gud"

>>3520798
Good thing we're all Germans here and we understand what you mean :)

Mentality wired to hold no desire
I lift my head, eager and dire
To find resolution for my burning fire
I find gifted with life while I wait to expire.

>>3520791

We can only alter our own personal attitudes to money. Makes no good to be affected by other peoples attitudes. Rather, it is best to lead your life by example and take pride in that.

chain retailer sign lights
burn my skin to a plastic crisp
in the echos of the mall's layered ambient hum,
a deafening screech prevails
through the cracking asphalt
down the rocky tar road,
remodel this,
city permit that,
a comfortable suburban living
begs for the cleaner bore of anything else.

>>3520791
Being angry at the game isn't playing.

If the game is sick diluted, cheated and simple.

Beat it. And then laugh downhill.

>>3520814
>am i deep yet

>>3520799
It's not german though?

The burtons’ neighbour feud had been going on for years. Countless times, the authorities had been called. Mrs Burton was at her wits end, and was furious at the neighbours lack of empathy for their situation, even despite having a community support officer come around and mediate the violent back and forths. Still, the peace had not come from the neighbourhood children. She hated those neighbours with a passion. Her husband was building a portfolio of their action. Balls kicked over, kids jumping to look over into the garden, loud noises.

Why wasn’t the family agreeing to their bitter plights? Because they didn’t care that their crabby neighbours were annoyed by their children, because they were crabby neighbours. This perpetuating back and forth and authorities involved only served to further them in their fortitude and inability to communicate with one another with simple and polite back and forth.

Had Mrs Burton had brought the kids out a platter of cookies, when they were looking over the fence, and built a camaraderie with them, spoke to them about her day, asked them about theirs, the children would undoubtedly lose interest in this mysterious angry neighbour of theirs. Kids like to feel danger, and Mr’s Burtons furious attitude towards children playing enticed their whole interest. Perhaps the kids might shortly build an unconscious respect for the crabby neighbour, and refrained from annoyance.

>>3520814

i don't know, the odds that some clever bastard might get by the seemingly impenetrable walls of pulp vanity with something (just subtly enough) genius seem inconceivable

i certainly hope we might see something like that, someday

>>3520815

>couldn't touch me with a 39 and a half foot pole

As I sped through the winding streets of Venice in my racecar, my mind was dominated by one thought: The clown had no penis. Sweet gentle Jesus, why didn't the clown have a penis?

>>3520809
this is nice,

I'm not well read, but that sounds decent to me.

>>3520548
When people tell you not to think too much,
it's not because they're worried about you,
it's because they're afraid that you might ask them
about the things that they don't have an answer to.

My dear Fitzgerald:

Here we are and have read your book and it is a good book. I like the melody of your dedication and it shows that you have a background of beauty and tenderness and that is a comfort. The next good thing is that you write naturally in sentences and that too is a comfort. You write naturally in sentences and one can read all of them and that among other things is a comfort. You are creating the contemporary world much as Thackeray did his in Pendennis and Vanity Fair and this isn’t a bad compliment. You make a modern world and a modern orgy strangely enough it was never done until you did it in This Side of Paradise. My belief in This Side of Paradise was alright. This is as good a book and different and older and that is what one does, one does not get better but different and older and that is always a pleasure.. Best of good luck to you always, and thanks so much for the very genuine pleasure you have given me. We are looking forward to seeing you and Mrs. Fitzgerald when we get back in the Fall. Do please remember me to her and to you always

Gtde Stein

>>3520833

This is possibly true.

Over thinking, still, can be very mentally draining. Practising abstinence from it is a useful skill to learn.

>>3520830

hey, thanks! just wrote it so i'd have something to post here. maybe it's worth polishing up

>>3520833
[edge] xX_knowledge_is_power_Xx
ppl are sheeple
they want you stoopid
fight the system
~~~ d(-_-)b ~~~~

>>3520825

I'd say it's up to the clever bastard.

Make your own luck, etc.

>>3520839
>So edgy

>>3520846
that was you

>>3520846
>>3520778

I sit on trains a lot. The only adverts I ever see are for oxfam, or some other charity, with some poor supposedly starving child looking out. Or adverts showing homeless people. Supposed poor forms of existence then.

‘it could be worse, I guess’ is the implied message.

Forget the charitable cause here, it’s secondary.

We have abound imagery of poor starving children, homeless people, and foreign aid, there’s one that says ‘first period, first child married, and only 14’
Imagery on a form of transport that many people take on their way to a boring day at work, processing, or doing sums or something, and lest they question their very boring existence, or say ‘what am i working for?’ They can look up at these walls and be reminded that they live a good life in comparison, or ‘just keep quiet and keep working’ or whatever the queens slogan is...

I don’t see these adverts anywhere else. only on the commuters train to london where they might have a chance to sit and think about shit. You know, like, what the fuck are they doing with themselves.

>>3520839

do you realize posing criticism like this only makes it easier to appreciate when people have the balls to criticize the way major portions of certain populations live?

because it creates courage in those criticisms. because there's new adversity to it.

>>3520852
>it takes balls 2 b a teenager hero~~
join my intellectual army
stop conspiracies
open you're eyes
1984 the big brother over and out

>>3520851

i don't suppose it's an orchestrated attempt to like, ease people into their possibly miserable work lives

but it could certainly have that effect

>>3520857

you're severely exaggerating what i said and not really communicating your point at all

the person you replied to was expressing a very general sentiment. i'm positive that you're not supposing seeking knowledge is bad, so please, use. your. words.

>>3520861
i'm not exaggerating at all
y'all kiddos

> i'm positive that you're not supposing seeking knowledge is bad, so please, use. your. words
i'm obviously against your childish attitude of superiority over those who "don't think" or whatever shitty criteria you found to fit you well

Starting to shake he quickly stood up and ran off. A few confused looks shot aroun the room but most of his friends were used to this behaviour by now. He hurried down the corridor feeling his skin start to clam up and beads of sweat form on his brow. He threw the bathroom door open, knocking over a young boy who was half the size of his own rucksack. The cubicle door slammed shut behind him, he was finally alone.

Out came his trusty old tobacco tin, carrying the smell of all the chemicals he'd forced into his body over the past few years. He removed the lid and hurriedly released his only friend. Open wrap, onto foil, add the acid, boil boil, add the cotton, pull the plunger, find a vein, relax and wonder.


That's my first attempt at writing anything so criticise all you want, this thread just sort of made me want to have a go. I wrote about what I know.

I know the grammar and punctuation is probably poor and I used he/his to often, any suggestions on how to improve that?

>>3520858

I just thought it was an interesting insight. There was something about consistently being bombarded with those messages that really irked me. They're so condescending and dramatic. Conceitedly emotive.

>>3520864

>"don't think"

i never used those words. ps:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confirmation_bias

>>3520839

I guess you should probably read that text again.

> itdoesn't claim that knowledge is power
>it doesn't say that people are sheep
>It doesn't claim they want you stupid
>It doesn't tell you to fight the system

The one who's being edgy is you. inb4 whiteknight

>>3520864
>>3520861

You realise you both are faggging the thread up.

I desired you so long
And grabbed your tails at sleep
But only found the air and all
That I had failed to keep

A black day we were fated for
The two best, you and me
And now that it's the grave we're for
At long last, I am free

>>3520870
go play in the sandbox with your semantics

>>3520871
yes it does

>>3520873
oh noes .___.

Vocal textures reverberate the masses
Speak to none, Speak for all
The Artist
The Captive

Resuscitate your mind right
Rise, fuck the ashes
Heroin and daffodils
The flowers are active

I shit all over your face

you screamed no

I screamed no

>>3520877
Nope, it claims that "those who tell you not to think too much" do so because they don't want to think about certain things, and not out of concern for you. That's all.

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>>3520885
nope, you're slow

>>3520888
>Not supporting your claim
>2013

i grew up an awesome boy
planes went through my hair
the passengers lacking in pre tense
as if they weren’t scared
going on holiday every thought
and then the government came with his jugganaught
saying we gave you this
you give it back
we put force in place
for if loyalty you lack
our high rise buildings and foreign aid
and of course we have to be paid
this is a farm, get back to your stable
we’ll boost you with medicine get you working and able
but we don’t want you sticking in solidarity
cos maybe you’ll rise up and question my salary
so we’ll pay layabouts to sit and make babies
build estate after estate and stew in their automated ways
create a rich pompous class with their heads up their arse
good intentioned but coddled to get through life with speed
taught success is relative to a certain type of breed
split up the people
split up the people
what a farce
what a farce

>>3520889
you're slow & boring

see ya

Stereoscopic vision like Kaleidoscope eyes
Stereoscopic vision like Kaleidoscope eyes
Stereoscopic vision like Kaleidoscope eyes
Stereoscopic vision like Kaleidoscope eyes

>>3520865
It's very fast - which isn't a bad thing in itself, but you can't sustain a longer piece at that pace - and the content seems quite... young. Apart from a few missed commas, the grammar and punctuation is fine.

>Open wrap, onto foil, add the acid, boil boil, add the cotton
Okay, if this is talking about smack, what 'acid' are you using? Most of us use water, unless you really mean he's trying to spike LSD? Also, trying to dissolve on foil is an absolute nightmare. If he has just pulled the foil from his pocket, he needs to spend some time moulding it into a bowl shape around his thumb – but if he's carrying a spike and cotton(cigarette filter is best for this), he's probably got a spoon or metal bottle cap with him.

>>3520894
Settle the fuck down, John Lennon.

"Behan, tie up them fecking laces. It's bad enough you're stompin' around like Wolfe Tone without making the rest of us look the worse for standing beside you." I said nothing. Too busy with what was in my hands. I wouldn't have to answer the oul' pain anyway, with Murphy an able tongue at even the earliest hours of the morning, and thankfully a man who was well acquainted with the Behans. "Sure leave it lie John, leave it lie. There ain't no one here and if there was you wouldn't facking be here yisself now would you?" That quietened him for a few minutes at least, but Murphy was a man equipped with an uneasy tongue, and stepping out of the wrong side of wherever he lay his head every other morning, he was given to exercising it with tongue lashings which were generally aimed at myself.

>>3520902

I'm not the poster.

ascorbic acid or citric acid.

some H, depending on where you live, doesn't dissolve well without it. It's common in some areas.

>>3520865

Quite good. Style is direct, language non fluffy. Maybe mesh the mental strain of needing/wanting that fix into preparation of the fix. Go into the mental processes a bit more. I felt that you rushed through that part a little.

You can't prove God exists, it is based on faith.
You can't prove love exists, it is based on faith.

>>3520902

>Most of us use water

You must live in Australia

>>3520915
deep................

>>3520922
it would be as boring only you'd be more aware

maybe you should do something fun

>>3520915
Checkmate atheists

My life is boring.
I should buy a diary.

>>3520915

>Man was made in God's image.

>God was made in Man's image.

There is remarkable historical. sociological, pantheological, and anthropological evidence for only one of these statements.

>>3520906

Who are you to extinguish my flame etc.

>>3520915

Love ='s Oxytocin

Science +1

>>3520915
like this if you are a free thinking atheist

>>3520915 On that note:
You say that you don't believe in god, most people won't mind.
You say that you don't believe in love, they call you a monster.

I would have to lie if I said I ever felt "love" for anyone.
Mild affection, yes, but anything beyond that... not really.

i’m fucked and i’m tired and scared
all the thoughts that lay bare in my head
of crippled defeat, optimistic‘s repeat
it’s enough to drive the dalai lama insane

There never was a God
and if there was you’d just spend your days
lickin’ his arse

we never were all just one
so I have every right
to tell you to fuck off

I can’t wait for the whole world to end
we can dive into the void and wash our hands of it
Oh my God, oh my God what a fucking relief
to break down all the images that are haunted in me
now they’re running scared, and my victory spared
I’m coming home, I’m coming home, I’m coming home
I’m coming home to you
I’m coming home to you

Walk tall despite the wall
Don't hold your breath
Don't drop the ball
Carry on in silence
For the light of all
These things that I've done

>>3520911
>ascorbic acid or citric acid.
Citric acid just sounds painful. My local clinic gives away water with U100's, so I just use that. Unless it's tar, I never really have a problem with it dissolving - apart from the little grainy bits that always stay.

If it's painless and offers a higher sterilization, I might try getting some.

>>3520942

Love is just sever affection

It doesn't transcend neurochemistry

what a fucking sewer

>>3520907
na'in boys?

ey...EY! Get your egotistical mitts off me, your fingertips smudge and tug my skin, pulling me out like a canvas so you can paint. Well enough I say...just because I have misplaced my pigment and hardened brushes does not mean I am any less capable an artist, for the artist is not always using his hands but his eyes also, and just because I see and lack the skill to apply myself is no reason not to try anyway; the masterpiece is locked inside skull. Maybe it’s not there at all but a reflection, a mirage of my dreams.

Religion and Opiates you say?

Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opium of the people.

Criticism has plucked the imaginary flowers from the chain, not so that man will wear the chain without any fantasy or consolation but so that he may break the chain and cull the living flower.

>>3520960
>I lack the skill to apply myself

The application of ones mind is the most difficult task an artist must face.

Creation is easy, the tole it tasks is not.

>>3520971
takes

somebody kill me please
oh somebody kill me please
i'm on my knees pretty pretty please
kill me
i want to die
put a bullet in my
head.

>>3520975
Oh hey those line breaks really made it powerful! Not. Slobber on a thousand dicks and die.

>>3520971
>tole

you just got toled

>>3520976
Slobber on a dick and die
He spoke into my ear
I wonder where he got the thought
That i was such a queer

I know that if he took the time
He'd stop and then he'd know
He's the one with a mars bar in his arse
And then his heart would wilt in sorrow

I'm bored out of my mind, staring at the screen,
instead of doing the things that I want to do.
Don't go telling me I'm trying to be edgy.
I'm not making this up.

Sigh.

Oh soothing tones that set within my heart
Strings reminiscent of dusty heat amidst the summer chill
all those evenings spent revolving around myself
attempting to get closer to him
a soulful tune played by you
that my heart beats slowly along to
you show me anger, you show me myself
I see what your saying, I should love me the most.
Others wail, they all cry
Makes you wonder, oh just why
they don’t ask the right questions
don’t look to the sky
destined to wander aimlessly
forever and I, maybe I
can settle the sounds of silence
into a roaring wisp of glory’s shout
of teeming gold with God, without him

Bukowski, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Bu-Kow-Ski: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Bu. Kow. Ski.

He was Buk, plain Buk, in the morning, standing five feet ten in one sock. He was Chinaski in slacks. He was Charles at school. He was Henry on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Bukowski.

Did he have a precursor? He did, indeed he did. In point of fact, there might have been no Bukowski at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial minimalist. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Bukowski was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a realist for a fancy prose style.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, post-modern seraphs, envy. Look at this tangle of thorns.

>>3520983
That was actually pretty good

I've done nothing for the last 10 years. No job, no education. I don't even read books. I don't know why I'm here.

>>3520990
Awful. Who would ever read such tripe? That was one of the worst pieces of prose I've ever read.

>>3520992
no it wasn't

Post something of yr own

>>3520993
Time to end this one way or another

>>3520993
Sink or swim now bud.

>>3520995

>Awful. Who would ever read such tripe? That was one of the worst pieces of prose I've ever read in my life.

>In my life

You were so close to making that rhyme.

So close

>>3520993

Go for a run fatty

>>3521002
I'm waiting for the day when I can live off the government so I can move out of my parents house.

>>3521005
But I'm not fat. All I eat is rice and vitamin D pills.

Happiness is illusive, you have to give up thinking about happiness, because it's relative, and conditional, you can't just obtain it and then have it forever because that's not how life works. It comes in bursts and flows, you've just got to go with that current and never just wish for happiness to come to you.

>>3521011
>I'm waiting for the day when I can live off the government so I can move out of my parents house.

Your parents have failed you, grow the fuck up, kid.

>>3521014

An inflated perception of happiness causes depression.

>>3520993

And how old are you?

>>3521017
I can't grow up because whenever I leave my house I start shaking from anxiety. I don't think anyone would consider me a kid at this point.

>>3521025
Please get over it. I don't mean gruffly "get over it", but adopt the POV of the heroism and sheer drive of carrying on in spite of your flaws. That's how I got through my problems. I kept telling myself how brilliantly driven I was showing myself to be by pushing through.

>>3521025
Well, you fucked up. You could still try seeing a therapist...
Sorry.

I'm actually worried, that my little brother might end up like this.
Sigh.

I had a dream last week
You were the star of the show
Also featuring a man that wasn't me
And I watched from the stand
As he felt your hair and held your hand
Until my eyes were fogged up and I couldn't see
The cause of all my agony

>>3521037
That's strange. My older brother is worried that I'll end up like that guy.

>>3521022

I'll withhold it from your agenda.

The view stands that living with your parents and waiting to become dependent off of the government is the prospect of a child.

Ambition can't be conjured, you have to work for it.

>>3521025

You're a child at an emotional level.

You have an anxiety complex.

Anxiety is natural, experience it, learn to control it.

I've experienced panic attacks to the point of unconsciousness.

I know the cold shaking, hot in the face feeling.

But I had to feel everyday of my life before I learned to overcome it.

Not trying is worse than failing.

A child doesn't try.

A man tries, and fails, and gets back up again for another round.

Grow. The fuck. Up

I have met a soothsaying gypsie
Who reads destiny in the air where he goes
He held up his hands as we walked down the strand
And he told me all that I wanted to know

>>3521042
Wow. What an asshole.

>>3521042
Gee whizz, you must be the most pretentious tripfag I've ever seen. From the wannabe witticisms to the utterly obnoxious spacing out of posts as if every single line contains a grain of philosophical truth so important that it can't be contained in a normal paragraph.

Go ahead, say you mad.

>>3521043

Truth hurts

>>3521047

effusively happy

>>3521044
He took me back to see his wife
For what I never knew
And looking back upon his life
He said its nothing new

>>3521052
No doubt. Man, if I had deluded myself into thinking I was Oscar Wilde mark II I'd be happy too. Also your "advice" to that guy was reminiscent of an angry drunken dad who has no idea what to say trying to be authoritative. Probably less useful too.

>>3521042
I'd rather kill myself then try, so if I get kicked out or my parents die before I get some sort of funding, I'll probably just do that.

>>3521050
I wasn't the guy you were responding to. I was just pointing out that you are an asshole.

>>3521042
lmao who even writes like this

>>3521059

Pain is the best motivator.

>if I had deluded myself into thinking I was Oscar Wilde mark II

I wonder who Oscar Wilde's idols were. Who do you think he pretended to be?

>>3521042
Thanks for withholding it from my agenda, it means a lot.

But that's not what I meant, so don't put words into my mouth with your false maxims

>>3521069
Probably Oscar Wilde, world famous playwright. Not really worth pretending to be anyone else when you are the best.

wrote this randomly a couple of days ago after reading some of the schizobabbly shit in dhalgren

1/2

It’s cold, the last flames have burnt out, the daybreak has broken, the last flags have been lowered, and the final prayer spoken, In the dead of the winter which is upon you it will come the time to reflect on the time before, was the city on a hill, the promise of your ideal perpetual budding spring anything more than illusory? and if so, whence cometh autumn? What incited the leaves of your yggdrasil to lose their emerald sheen and fall to the earth in pallor?

>>3521065

I do.

>>3521060

Man, I hate to see another man just submit like that.

If this means anything remember that Anxiety and Excitement are two sides to the same coin.

It's what you choose to do with that energy.

I found myself for years struggling with this excess energy that I thought was going to kill me, and it wasn't until I flipped the switch from negative thinking to positive thinking that I was able to move forward.

I wish you luck.

>>3521060
thats absolutely pathetic.

the bombs will bring us the end say the oppenheimers, the shavites, the modern day azazels, the irradiated soil will be our tomb. The infinitesimal hourdes say the pasteurs, those who see the unseen deceivers, the microscopic plaque will bring us our end, the alpha and omega say the self proclaimed boddhisattvas, Peters and Pauls , proclaimers of false truths, Elohim will bring us our end. Ahh but the freuds, the explorers of the psyche, they know that we can bring about our own end without help from all these sources. what use are you’re megatons, you’re gamma rays, you’re hiveminds, you’re minute deceivers strengthened by your own attrition, you’re imperceptible avenger, you’re elohim the forger of morals from pyrite, you needn’t fret over them, ragnarok, the end of our damned species has always been. From within, subterranean, the dragon who tears at the roots of your wilting tree is your neighbor, the plebeians and patricians, sole inheritors of the earth, the proud apes, the glass factory, anxiety and dread fueling the inferno, de-crystallizing the organized nature of the silicon within the tiny mirrors of your skulls, smoothing out the bumps in the record and all that makes you man, while outside of the smoothed amorphous animalistic dome, the glass blowers, sons of man, purveyors of the fuel of dread, the proud apes, they blow on their pipes expanding the glass and morphing the logical crystalline forms, and out comes the music, charming the inner serpent to arise from his basket and dance while within your hypothetical Socrates, you’re ubermensch, the end of your kinds repetition of zeros slumbers within, the waltz of the serpent is a lullaby to it’s ears, the fearful music, the constant flow of negative stigmata set to an infectious tune, the resonance of the battlecry of shiva deafening and stifling the immortal Shakti, simultaneously a requiem for becoming and a serenade to stagnation.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwJKl0s4vlU&t=04m30s

>UKTFB

It’s interesting how one’s attitude to a situation can change upon your approach. How one’s argument can be broken down by lassoing their inner insight and wanton to be good and righteous. it’s interesting how easily this good and righteousness is replaced for snipe superiority and the fear that one is wrong. Oh surface beings, how we’ve come to the world as a battleground, equipped with quips and supposed band aid humour, how we fight for the right to self, to judge without being judged, or judged on surface merit. Don’t worry we say, nobody knows my true thoughts.

The drink I made for callous aid
The whiskey in the room
The oak beneath my feet
The barrel essence drink
The silence made for great escape
My wooden, scented tomb.

I got smashed last night with a few really good friends. Things got pretty dark towards the end of the night, and we started talking about life and stuff; we always do, but it was different this time because I had told them that my doctor referred me to a psychologist that morning for my anxiety and overall psychological discomfort, so that was floating around in the back of their minds. We got into it, and we started arguing about life and what it means to be alive and reality and all that. Basically, what it boiled down to was my friend saying that anything I say is pointless and my argument is for naught unless I actually kill myself; that that's the only way to prove my point, but I'm too much of a pussy to go through with it. I was saying that there's no reason to be alive and that no matter when you die your sense of time will have made your entire life non-existent, nothing more than a series of forgotten moments, most of which actually happened but some which are actually nothing more than fabrications, vivid dreams. What I was saying was that there is no difference between real and unreal, and if there's nothing after death then there's no point to have something before it. I agreed about the whole killing myself thing, actually--that it would prove my point--but he was right, I'm a pussy. I'll spare you the intimate details of the argument, but we kind of ended on a sour note, where we were leaving and the words were still kind of hanging in the air, sharp and uninviting. This is stuff you say in a hushed voice, in a corner, with someone you really trust if the moment permits it, and we laid it all out while we were drunk and having fun, and it broke something of a facade that we had made for each other, the masks that we put up for people to see. He texted me at four in the morning and said that if I killed myself, he would never forgive me. I almost fucking cried, /lit. I just wanted to get that off my chest.

I have a feeling I'm going to work at a bank in a couple of years. I like money. I don't really care about having lots of it personally, I just like handling it. Not that I mind having money, either. Money gives you a feeling of safety, that no matter what happens everything will be all right.
I'll meet my wife at work. She's a secretary. She's conservative by nature and values family much more than work, just like a woman should. We'll become good friends at first. We will notice that our tastes in art are almost identical and our views on life are very similar. Slowly, we will start liking each other more and more and at some point I'll realize that she'd make a perfect wife. So I ask her out, on a date. "Finally!" she thinks. I'm a bit slow when it comes to relationships. Our relationship evolves fast. We're already good friends. I will propose to her, she will say "Yes". We will get married. Our life as a family will begin.
My pay will be enough to buy a nice house, a nice car, some nice clothes and feed the family. I'll probably have a surplus of money. I can donate the extra money to my teacher. I know my wife will probably think it's a bad idea to donate it all, she'd rather save some for a bad day or to buy our son an apartment when he wants to move out. She'll have a very practical attitude towards money. Unlike me. I'm very frugal and I don't like spending money on useless things, but I could give all I have to some stranger if I was in the right mood and the stranger happened to ask.

Video games are getting dumber and dumber by the second. Or maybe I’m getting cleverer and games are staying the same. God forbid, maybe i’m actually growing older. Still, used to be some skill in games, they used to be a challenge, they used to bend you over and pummel you till kingdom come. And the glorious release of end credits, the rejoicing music, and that peace of mind and heart, suddenly, opening you up to a new plateau of glorious existence. Knowing you beat this game, you probably felt like the guy who used a gun to shoot Osama Bin Laden in the forehead, allegedly. I love that term, allegedly. You can say absolutely anything and just tag on a little allegedly and it becomes half true. As soon as you imagine something it’s true, a seed planted, a vision set. It doesn’t even matter whether it actually happened. So, yes, suddenly this vision of the enemy is presented to you, and you do what you need to progress, you aim the crosshairs and you blast the motherfucker. The man who shot Osama though didn’t get that feeling, because the game ended there, but there were no rejoicing credits and elating cheats unlocked, suddenly he can play through the game again with invincibility mode on, no, not at all. ‘Congratulations, you unlocked Post Traumatic Stress Disorder! You can continue playing, the game is now ‘the Sims’ 3D with the ‘domestic abuse’ expansion pack add on. Where your comforting home becomes the battlefield, and enemies bombard your psyche with hidden messages. To complete this level, kill all your friends!
But seriously, I don’t think people are that bad. We just buy into the game.

something

>>3521134
lmfao!! my sides xD!!

I am sitting at a rest stop
My head will soon blow its top
Hot spot internet drains
Syncing Ipod's a pain
How many Ramones songs have I got?

>>3521131
I don't know what's going on with games, but I know that you aren't getting more clever, or "cleverer" as you put it.

>>3521154

lol thanks for the laugh kip

Black, White, Black, White
The keys beneath the King
Baffled composition 5th
Allegiance to release

Understood nobility
It likens to the mind
It's ominous, no parallel
Misapprehensions of our mind

So Black, White, Black, White
Hollow are the keys
From which we dance beyond the light
And fall beneath the knee

For hallelujah is the hum
The broken cry beneath
Black, White, Black, White
All hail and nevermore
Allegiance to the king

Eleanor sweet Eleanor, you filthy fucking whore
My cock has cascaded, down your throat before.

If I only wasn't empty, I would have gave you more
Eleanor sweet Eleanor, your cunts indeed a bore.

Love at last
That sweet release
A warming gaze
Another lease
On life itself
I know at least
That life with you will ever more
Leave my heart in piece

>>3521060
I don't care if he/she doesn't try.

It took me a few shots of whiskey to warm myself up, to loosen the fears, and I didn’t forget to thank God for the dutch courage. My staircase is the culprit in which I would fall foul too, or so my freak child should fall foul too. I danced up the stairs making light of a serious situation, performed a double two-step at the very peak, and with a final leap threw myself into the air, sprawling my arms out, I was the freedom of an eagle floating through the desert sky. The impact felt hard and I felt my skin split upon the splintery wood stairs. A shock sent its way across my spine and face crushed against the stairs. Tumbling down each stair I dreamt of a different day from my past. It was a luxurious kaleidoscope of shit burns and let downs, all coated in a leathery silk bursting colours that soaked into them, giving them a revived exuberance that I’d never before known. I fell to a pile at the bottom, and peace washed over me. Never before had I felt so content, so peaceful, so...

>>3521167
Can I have her number?

>>3520548
No

>>3521011
You need more protein to fuel that brain of yours ole chap!

I called him nigger.
He called me a vanilla faced-cracker.

I won.

>>3521177

You being small does not serve the world

Here's one for you, mystery girl; girl who I know, but I know nothing about. I know every facet of your magnificent and humorous bullshit, but what you do, what you believe in, what you hope for, is all a secret. You cry in the bathroom watching shows, and after all the times we've spoken, I still don't know why you cry.

>>3521184
Technically he called you a Nilla Wafer.

That was probably the last time any of us saw Henry. Never did come home. Last I hear he took off with some bird that come up on his thigh a little too quick. This from Ernie, mind you, the last time Ern understood the goins on anywhere his sandals was pushin 3 foot. Shit...
Anyway...
Henry got it in him that up in Keelville they holdin more gold bull than spending possible. Figure anyone knew how to use a hook saw and a fish whistle would be enough to lend him some extra finger for takin. Hence Jessica. Now the rust on this biscuit isn't nothin new, it's been collectin since before we both saw train truck throw past mount quicksilver. Young, right?

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
A real gangsta-ass nigga plays his cards right
A real gangsta-ass nigga never runs his fuckin mouth
'cause real gangsta-ass niggas don't start fights
And niggas always gotta high cap
Showin' all his boys how he shot em
But real gangsta-ass niggas don't flex nuts
'cause real gangsta-ass niggas know they got em
And everythings cool in the mind of a gangsta
'cause gangsta-ass niggas think deep
Up three-sixty-five a year 24/7
'cause real gangsta ass niggas don't sleep

This ecstasy doubles me over
the whole blessed weight of it
while as light as a snowdrop on a stem
Drags my heart down inexorably
Eyes blue and ever-churning
The water that nourishes my ardor
The farewell kisses I was told would serve
To tide me over till next we met
Must the memory now sate me for a lifetime?

I meet so many of these old people, old men, who just sit back and HATE everything. All they fucking do is complain, and intellectually belittle shit. I hate these fucking pieces of garbage because they think, talk and act like they can do better than anyone at anything but when you turn the spotlight on them, suddenly they haven’t actually got shit to show for themselves. Most of them just penned down a job their whole lives, that gives them no valid opinion on any such subject except that of whichever button pushing career it is they chose to sustain themselves in.

I’ll tell you now, dear friends. The mind is where we are held prisoner. We think we are free because we have freedom of thought but this can be found to be not true. Our freedom of expression should transfer into the physical realm, yet we are held bound by so many things. Society, culture, media, peer pressure, commercial manipulation, cultural manipulation.

>>3520907
Anything?

We are taught to think of our success in terms of numbers
If touching one person's life is a good thing,
then touching one thousands people lives must be a great thing,
It's easy to see where we learned to think this way
Our whole society revolves around mass production
The more units we can move
The more customers we can serve
The more boats we can get
The more money and the more stuff we have, the better, right?
Maybe it's not possible to touch one thousand peoples thinking,
or as powerfully as one person
Maybe it's not really so revolutionary after all,
to have one person out of a group of twenty, tell everybody else what's right
Wouldn't it be better if we tried a decentralized approach
where everyone works closely with those around them,
instead of a few people waiting in anonymous mass?
Do you have to save the world all by yourself,
why don't you trust someone else to do it with you?

thoughts?
(i didnt write this btw)

I am always seeking safety but as soon as it comes too close I strive for its opposite. I surround myself with fear, and contradiction, and a constant assimilation of emotion, withdrawing only when it feels precariously real. I weaken and flee, leaving an equivocal combination of pity and guilt, like leaving plastic flowers on a mother's grave.

In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

- A man who stumbles over his words just thinks faster than he speaks.
- People are impressed with what they don't understand but always be prepared to pretend that you understand for maximum kudos.

Some of the better things from the past few days in my diary, somebody else probably said them first but they were original to me.