/lit/ - Literature

>>4536506
You are seriously retarded. I don't even know how to talk to you.

>>4536420
It's in >>4532478

No idea if it's the same Anon. Don't really care, the point stands either way.

>>4535931
Since you reject author intent, am I allowed to interpret your posts any way I want? Am I allowed to say that you're suffering from an idealization of authors you can only hope to be and that this manifests in a fierce rejection that they hold any power over their words? Any power over you?

What if I can support it with examples from the text?

>p.s.: your subtext won't be, you're not that good a writer. You've just completed 100,000 words of your 1,000,000 word juvenilia. Remember to burn them all.
Look, you're obviously projecting your own shortcomings on others.

>who were only too willing to swallow what he came out with.
Look! A Freudian slip!

>>4535641
So not my fault. Only time I ever got exposure to the written word was after the earthquake and nobody ever bothered to spell it with the ï. Blame my culture.

>>4535591
I had no clue Haïtian was spelled with a double-dotted I. Is it pronounced like naïve is?

>>4532576
That guy who blew shit up, taught kindergarten, then came back to try to blow shit up again.

>>4532503
Except I haven't rejected the rape theory at all, I just haven't seen sufficient evidence. I was just pointing out a fact about competent discussion that you'd missed.

>>4532458
Counterexamples aren't required to rebut.

>>4532423
Nah. Pretty much all points and counterpoints have been covered.

If Holden raped his sister then why didn't Mark David Chapman rape John Lennon?

Checkmate rapetheists.

>>4532276
Not Mr. Confirmation Bias, that's for sure. All the zeroes in the world don't add up to a one, and all the in-context euphemisms you call Freudian slips don't add up to incest.

>>4532108
My dictionary extension says Aniki is "bro". Like what you call your buddies.

>>4531946
Is "beating it" as in masturbating related to the group of people at all? I didn't think it was.

Just written. Let 4chan be my proofread.

I thought I saw today a god, looking in the mirror
I thought he turned away in shame and then he disappeared
I wonder why he came that day and what, that day, came clear
I wonder if he saw himself (for first) - saw Isaac's Fear

I think I saw myself today, staring into space
I think I quickly turned away and snapped out of my daze
I wonder why my introspection leaves this awful taste
I wonder if these dreams of self can ever be erased

I think I'll see myself someday, walking by a mirror
I think I'll walk right on my way and quickly disappear
I wonder what might come that day if something may come clear
I wonder if I'll feel okay - if it will bring new fear

My thoughts were born from chalkboards
My hands are always clenched
My feet are worn from walking
My soul's been rained on - drenched

>>4532009
A monkey would have to have those types of thoughts to use tools. "This rock looks heavy enough to break that nut". Maybe that's why our sense of comparison evolved in the first place.

Just written. Let 4chan be my proofread.
I thought I saw today a god, looking in the mirror
I thought he turned away in shame and then he disappeared
I wonder why he came that day and what, that day, came clear
I wonder if he saw himself (for first) - saw Isaac's Fear

I think I saw myself today, staring into space
I think I quickly turned away and snapped out of my daze
I wonder why my introspection leaves this awful taste
I wonder if these dreams of self can ever be erased

My thoughts were born from chalkboards
My hands are always clenched
My feet are worn from walking
My soul's been rained on - drenched

I think I'll see myself someday, walking by a mirror
I think I'll walk right on my way and quickly disappear
I wonder what might come that day if something may come clear
I wonder if I'll feel okay - if it will bring new fear

>>4531972
But we like them just as much - if not more - when they're hidden from us. I think it could stem from that moment of "Aha!" when figures out a deeper meaning.

What's the point of a metaphor? I love them, others apparently love them, but why are they there? Why are we so intrigued by the statement of one idea through the guise of another?

And, on the same subject, what makes for a good metaphor? Right now I'm thinking it's one that's either just out of reach or one that's part of a bigger metaphor but isn't quite as clear as the other parts. There's a song about fame I've been hung up on the past few days because I just can't figure out what one of the stanzas means, and I think that as long as I'm hung there the artist has won. He's done something that makes me think about and listen to and read the song and that's what he wants.

Thoughts?

>>4529027
>"...I figured that if I didn't bump smack into my parents and all I'd be able to SAY HELLO TO OLD PHOEBE AND THEN BEAT IT and nobody'd even know I'd been around."
You've been talking about the 20's. I can't say I remember when TCITR takes place, but "beat" meaning masturbate isn't recorded until the 60's.

http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=beat

>>4529120
>"She took the note off
>me and called some other lady, from the next office, and the other lady went to give it to
>Phoebe."
Holy fuck he made some office lady rape his sister.

>>4531353
No comprendo.

"Dear God, in Heaven, have you lost your mind?"
I asked with tears a-face and solemn heart.
Intrinsically exquisit and divine,
The god, in Heaven, left me in the dark

So with my burden left without a lift
And nothing coming from the skies above,
I turned to memory and began to sift
Through photographs and ancient tales of love

Among the misplaced songs and bits of trash,
Discovered I a part of me I've lacked.
Abandoned in an act so blindly rash,
I wondered how I'd lived without its tact.

I knew its name and knew its skill for joy.
I knew its reputation - fearful, coy.

Immediately it told me every tale
Of childhood that I'd forgot in vain.
Its stories hit me like a fearsome gale
And longing poured on me like heavy rain.

To leave behind this former sense of self
With dreams of prodigy, I had no sense.
Just like the son of prodigy, himself,
Perhaps I could return to innocence.

My inner child, I must tell the truth.
I must confess, distress has taken siege.
And since we've drifted I have taken to
A longing hope that you'll come back to me.

And though to date I still glimpse it at night,
My inner child left me without light.

Whatever it is, you don't have it. Sorry.

>>4518082
I agree fully with this. He isn't overrated because he wasn't amazing, just because people take raving over him to an inappropriate level.

Same thing with The Beatles, Elvis, Bob Dylan, etc.