DO NOT CRITIQUE THOSE WHO DIDN'T CRITIQUE OTHERS
I know these always go in the toilet, but... Let's try again.
Post an excerpt in a www.pastebin.com page and write your critique to who you're responding to in the 4chan reply.
Let's all try to make this as simple and helpful as possible.
http://pastebin.com/VSxU3Htu
I'll be around for a while longer. I can review and critique.
Pls
>>7382213
>DO NOT CRITIQUE THOSE WHO DIDN'T CRITIQUE OTHERS
You haven't critiqued anyone, disregarded.
>>7382227
Good point. Thank you lawyer-san.
I can't post it here, because I wrote it in Norwegian.
>>7382249
sweden here
>>7382213
Basic Grammar and punctuation brow. First sentence can be cut into two. You need to get ontop of when to use a comma and "and". Take a look at the first and second sentences and, as an extreme case, see if you can put each idea into their own sentence. SO "I decided we'd had enough of the recon after a while. We'd made all the progress we were going to make. etc"
I would try to rewrite this "showing" not telling, so get rid of all the "to do" and "to have" model verbs and figure a way to tell it without them. You also really need to break up your sentences, learn when to use "and" and when to use a comma or a full stop. It's jarring reading with all your commas and ands, look up the definition of the oxford comma as I suspect you're using that.
>>7382353
Good help, ty
Y u no post your own? D:
>>7382374
Here's something from a few years ago.
http://pastebin.com/7tTXBSPA
>>7382406
Present-tense is interesting and you kept to it with conjugations well. Apart from the occasional run-on sentence and missing conjunction word, which I am seeing as incorrect maybe because it is how I'm used to it, it was very immersive and enjoyable.
Me using commas to make two or three sentences into one longer one is what Advanced Placement classes taught me on papers, and what Nobokov taught me in prose. It's what I use as my 'style', m8. And it's helpful to hear that you found it jarring. But many I've spoken to don't think so, and it organizes my thoughts quite well.
>>7382213
it's so rare that you get someone writing about something with any substance here. The prose is technical enough but not unreachable. I know nothing about this stuff but was convinced by the language.
>>7382406
something about pool is kind of noir-ish. It attracts characters that are distant and one-dimensional insofar as they are just pool players affected by their surroundings, and I feel like this sums that up.
"Moan. Moan," I think she said. I was busy enough counting thrusts to pay it mind.
Counting helped keep me grounded. Before that, I tried visualizing a four-dimensional version of a Rubik's cube, but then trailed off thinking up a good name for the fourth axis. All the good letters were taken and I thought of shapes. Spade-axis was close but lacked something. I switched to counting, factoring occasionally.
"Fuck. More," maybe she whimpered. I think she was quoting a movie but I didn't catch the reference. I was at two thirty seven and the number felt satisfying. Not prime but a decent impersonation.
I gazed down at our crotches and found myself staring into what could be her urethra. I don't pretend to know these things. I wandered into an image of the whole organ separate from her body, floating in a void.
It stretched outward along the nameless orthogonal, wormlike. At the front, it tapered off and fell into another worm's maw, maternal consumption. At the other end, it withered and decayed, finally disappearing in a putrid speck. The worm wriggled and bounced through the space like a screensaver vector, coded to dance and meander.
"Love. Fuck," perhaps. Probably not. We didn't discuss those kinds of things.
I wondered where our cheap wine was now. It was an hour or so on its journey, coursing through towards a glistening bladder. Maybe not. I wanted to press her stomach and find the wine bulge but instead I bent forward and grazed my teeth on the side of her neck. She had delicate hairs there, the kind that would sprout into manly stubble in old age. I wanted to feel their eventual coarseness but now was not the time.
"Yes. Neck." Her arched back said, the spine's notches shifting position like points on a sine curve, pulsing along time.
"Neck. Yes," I repeated, both hands clasped above her hipbone. Three hundred twenty seven, I noted.
"Sorry. Not sorry," I didn't say, instead raking my fingers through her hair, felling the little bumps and indentations of her skull. I wondered how seedless grapes were grown.
>>7382715
Aww thank you sweetheart.
I really hope the math and science as well as social sciences I use (elsewhere) are understandable.
I'm seeing what I don't think is two separate documents, but I'm going to critique them as such.
The top one, apart from the sentence "And seeing her play with her hair and... as she opens up.", which doesn't make sense in the formatting with how it starts, was very immersive and really shows a good grasp on social interactions on a macro and micro scale.
The latter is.. good. Opinionated is very good, neutrality is poison, but that should be elaborated on more.
>>7383006 here
>>7382715
I think these descriptions would do better if we experienced the actual interactions, rather than secondhand narration of the events. If the Lindsay bit had actual dialogue, I think it would be more interesting and active to read.
The second section is even more abstracted and less interesting, especially when it gets to the race shit. Maybe you're going for a narrator complaining baselessly, but it's still pretty boring. Maybe create some hearsay rumor that captures the idea more concretely e.g. "I heard some black kid with the same SAT score as me got a full ride to Harvard," instead of vague complaints.
>>7383009
how do you feel about the juxtaposition of these 'separate documents'? I think they play into each other more than they seem to at first glance. You should have seen this girl-- I never see her talk to guys, and I know she doesn't go out other than the parties that I host (she only comes with one or two girls that she's friends with). In the past, she and her friends have made fun of me for even going after her, but I've been showing diligence and respect for some time, and I think I finally made her let me into her life just a hair.
On a technical note, the stream-of-conscious technique I use is all about sentence fragments and infinitive statements as a means to narrate my head. Basically, the following:
Narrator commentary voice- "The flower is gold."
Narrator natural voice- "Seeing the golden flower." or "Seeing that the flower is golden"
>>7383023
>using the age-old excuse of 'b-b-but there's more to it than this selection
I feel you though. It's supposed to be a rant, and like I said to the other guy, I think it serves its own purpose as a piece right next to the former one.
The overarching theme of the work is wasted space and talent. Being born and getting lucky and squandering it by being a shitty self-interested person, so I think it's important to be complaining about 'how tough I had it' even though I didn't at all.
>>7383035
They seem out of context at the moment. I'm blaming that entirely on the fact that we have no more context on the second part, though, I'm sure you found a way to tie it back in.
Still... it's a sentence that doesn't make much sense, to me that is.
But I've been awake for like 12 hours.
Going to bed right after this.
>>7383006
I know this isn't what you were going for, but why does it kinda seem that your MC is a pretentious asshole? Not that it's a bad thing, as I said, neutrality is audience poison.
Anyway, onwards. The math stuff is really interesting and a new way of looking at stuff for me (I'm in that field of study myself). It's overall readable except for slight misspells (Fell not feel) and formatting.
>>7383062
Thanks. I agree completely about the formatting.
>why does it kinda seem that your MC is a pretentious asshole?
I don't see any indications that he's not.
>>7383052
Always approach grills with art only.
Any that respond to drugs and drinking you don't want to be around. Shit tier waifu for people that hop between /lit/ and /sci/
>>7382213
>Wouldn't you have it that an airborne controller started talking to me.
- I'd just rephrase this completely. It doesn't work nicely with or without a question mark.
>my heart made an extremely hard pump, painfully, with a start
- Replace "extremely hard" with more engrossing vocabulary. Also, "pump, painfully, with a start" has been punctuated in a way that feels verbose
>So did seven.
- Capitalise "seven".
Non-quotational advice:
- Some of your sentences are long, and don't read very comfortably. Not everything needs to be connected – it is acceptable to split things into new sentences, or to increase use of connectives.
- You managed to avoid an excess of exposition; good job.
>>7382715
- Genuinely captivating first sentence.
- You could possibly do with more variance in your sentences' openings.
>non-nice person
- Just a suggestion –but perhaps switch "person" to "guy" for continuity with the previous sentence.
- Avoid too much repetition of your own phrasing – i.e. "fleshy body"
-------------------
Any critique on my (short short) writing would be appreciated. Remember not to take my criticism with a pinch of salt, because I am not a professional.
Thers not much to actually critique above my post
ttps://docs.google.com/document/d/1aQx1PHiEMZSkAfxin_XDmF5jmvAkWLZAM6JQTlJmDHg/edit?usp=sharing
When it was light enough to use the binoculars he glassed the valley below. Everything paling away into the murk. The soft ash blowing in loose swirls over the blacktop. He studied what he could see. The segments of road down there among dead trees. Looking for anything of color. Any movement. Any trace of standing smoke. He lowered the glasses and pulled down the cotton mask from his face and wiped his nose on the back of his wrist and then glassed the country again. Then he just sat there holding the binoculars and watching the ashen daylight congeal over the land. He knew that the child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke.
>>7383469
I really like the idea here, and the fragment style might work. However, I think this either needs to be longer or more implicit. I can tell you read Kafka, so I'm gonna reccomend you reread the Sudden Walk a few times. This is well on its way to being good.
http://pastebin.com/fGV4Ys1n
>>7383883
Hello Mr McCarthy
http://pastebin.com/bXUygHKy
>>7382213
Got chills
7.5/10
8.7/10 with previously suggested edits on grammer.
>>7382249
Jeg snakker litt norsk...
>>7384742
Thank you, friend.
>>7384742
Talking about fragments sheesh
Commas and semi-colons are your friend.
And the word fuck kinda took me by surprise.
And what did you mean by rough and tumble?
Will critique in a separate post. These are supposed to be lyrics to a song built around a Tanzbar drum machine emulator and a wall of sound of clean electric guitars.
Patent Foramen Ovale Part 2
Do your candles burn lower
When your mother leaves?
When your bedposts play the violin
On your rosy rosined teeth-clenched grin
Take my spirit to your sweat-stained sheets
Am I there when you can't breathe?
For the sights and sounds and cries that drown me blind
Is it me still by your eye's mind's side?
On the ferris rides and flare gun sighs and heaves and streetlamp fleas?
From above you'll come and fade the front into the patchwork scene
While mood shifts run the circuit track
Your eyes they had an asthma attack
And the troves of doves and the trumpet guild are playing on one team
When the push does shove your love's a bitter grapefruit green
My God
The razor cuts from the ankle shaves
And prim and proper paraphrases
And the hazelnuts and the cocoa guts
That I made for you for the holy day
All wading through your stomach linings
The devil hides inside the timing
Just shrink into your breathing aid
Till your pupils vacuum up the shade
And you're all alone and that space is home
And in heavy air, when spirits share
The sour apples and chlorine
Your head and hair and lungs and shoes will flood with catecholamine
And when your heart pulse turns too fast turn me away
Cause I refuse to be there when you die on Robigalia day
Oh fade my sight to black, on the backlit screen
Cause when the push does shove your grapefruit love's a bitter shade of green
Are you the things outside of me?
Do our movements cycle separately?
Does your pixeled love fly from above?
Have we made it to the meat?
Are you the things inside of me?
Beyond the cogs and vinery
Where our bones can twist and somersault
To the clouds above the shoal
Come on, come on, hey, hello do you feel whole?
Sitcoms, romcoms, and microblogs all stirring what I see
An open sunroof doesn't bother me
>>7385138
excellent poetry,
terrible song.
Like really fucking good poetry.
>>7383006
The "precociously cynical, too smart for his own good male protagonist whose thoughts get in the way of his emotional connection to lower minds" trope is pretty dead. This gets used in movies all the time and it usually takes about two seconds to get the point across. They're having sex and they pan to a blank look on the character's face. It's not a big wall of text that would take up almost a page on a small paperback.
>>7385150
Thanks for the compliment. I guess the difference between my poetry and my song lyrics is that I don't bother with punctuation in my lyrics.
What makes you think it'll make for a terrible song?
>>7385182
just cant vision it, ya know?
well i shouldn't have said it would make a terrible song because there is really no way to know until the song is written
>>7385200
Do you have something in here I can critique? I'm also gonna drop another song lyric that goes early in the album (the songs have already been composed and practiced but I can't record until Christmas break).
Patent Foramen Ovale Part 1
Are you the things outside of me?
Outside the polished hardwood sheen?
In swollen sweat-stained sweet red sheets
With my spirit alone and your pillow case
Slow down your pulse won't keep pace
Notes of holly, pungent breathing
Rosy feeling, blessed me
My god
Are you the things inside of me?
The tightly woven gabardine
Where milkweed brushstrokes shade the scene
And the limestone statues breed
Are you there alone?
Have you come for me?
Who's induced the inner workings
Of your bleach-stained jeans?
When my spirit's alone with your pillow case
Calm down your pulse won't keep pace
Notes of holly, pungent breathing
Rosy feeling, blessed me
My god
This is straight from the heart part of my brain so please be gentle in your constructive criticisms:
Dear Cassandra,
I've been needing to get a few things off of my chest, so here's to setting the pace.
Donations to my soul, your glances are in my eyes. I can still smell the burning cinder from Hiroshima; the sounds, too. "But you only read the book!" you say, nudging me in the way that you do when wearing clothing, as if the draped down undershirt deigns you with a newfangled sense of authority–gender discrimination, you ask? You said it, dear. But this isn't healthy. I know it isn't, neither is this cocaine drip in the back of my throat tickling my esophagus they way I imagine my cum tickles yours: gargle! uvula! uvula! That reminds me: intimacy is as physical as cliches are generally false; which isn't to say that intimacy is in no way physical, it is. I'm just making the point that–aw fuck it. Just go see Her, or even Harold & Maude will do.
Anyway, I find myself saying anyway a lot when I'm with you. I don't know why. Anyway, we should go to the state fair this year; my doctor told me my cholesterol levels are on the low side so I figured that a double dose of fried butter or fried coke would do the trick–not a carney trick though, a medical one. The bottle toss is for drunkards and dullards, and baby I've tossed back enough bottles with you that I'm ready for a little full throttle on the mossy forest floor–if you dig me.
I want to fuck you.
Sincerely,
Your Loving Father Dave
>>7383469
Please post more. Strange sense of identification with this work...
Also: there's a grammatical problem. I don't know the exact name for it, but you switch from "would" to "did" (if that makes any sense).
Aligning everything to "did" (which I think makes more sense, as the school-chums only ask him once), the mismatched parts would read like this:
"What do they feel like?" We all asked at school.
The boy performed a practiced sigh: "I only take steps that matter now," he said. I didn't understand and I can't imagine that my friends did either, but we responded with enthusiastic nods.
After a while, conversation with the boy dried out and shrunk down to condolences and murmured speculations and wonderings between one another, and we walked off.
He stayed where he was.
>>7383813
I have to say it's tone-deaf, but it's so unashamedly tone-deaf that it's almost charming. So unrealistic that it's dreamlike, but everything seems taken care of—like it was cleaned by elves or something.
This story seems like it could have been written by that guy who reviews fast food while wearing a suit. All my life I've been searching for an eerily neutral voice and here you are. Unfakable.
& unpretentious. How rare is that on /lit/? Completely unpretentious, well cleaned-up writing.
Also "buffet" in that sense is a verb.
>>7385271
>Are you the things inside of me?
>The tightly woven gabardine
>Where milkweed brushstrokes shade the scene
>And the limestone statues breed
This part is masterful
>>7385700
I did you fucker
>>7385833
Put your review in the reply and your piece in a pastebin. If you don't want the pastebin up forever just set the expiration time for a week. This would resolve confusion.
http://pastebin.com/PFdFV5CA
Its something!
>>7385175
Thanks. Very true, this was just an experiment of mine and I wasn't going for anything profound.
Bundled Mind
Weekly witness a joyful expression.
Enough to trigger lasting happiness,
But circumstances holding the reins
Keep barring us inside, rendering helpless.
Mutual dislocation and divergence -
A guide to abolish the recess,
Sadly, too far to alter the distance.
Stranded just a sentence away from bliss.
>>7383956
It's a passage from The Road, m8.
>>7385402
These aren't on there but it's
postmetakolsti.tumblr.com
>>7385138
>Is it me still by your eye's mind's side?
Love it. Are you really Kolsti? Your other stuff doesn't seem like this.
>>7388770
Yeah but I wrote it when I was 15 so my style has changed in three years I guess. Only posting now cause I'm gonna do some recording over winter break.
>>7386404
Bangely Mind
Weekly witness a joyful expression
—tr(n)iggered—
But circumstances hold my reins
Render my benises helpless, alone.
Mutual dislocation and divergence—
A guide to abortion, no recess, child.
Sadly, the spinal cord snipped.
Stranded just a sentence away from life.
Yes! :')
>>7388671
Even though I think you're hit or miss, it's impressive how much range you have. This is a bit like watching Tao Lin write a dope sonnet.
>>7382715
Are the first two paragraphs part of something larger? If not I don't like the way it starts. Also
>And seeing her play with her and give me a flattering look at her profile as she opens up
Reads weirdly. Don't know whats specifically wrong here (i suck at grammar) but I think you're messing a conjunction up here.
I really like the first paragraph, it's fun and I can definitely relate. I don't like the overthinking of the second paragraph (although again, it might just be hitting too close to home), but I dig the ending.
As for the affirmative stuff I don't care for it. Seems attention seeking.
Anyway hopefully someone can get around to me. This was something I did for a short writing class I took as an elective a while back.
>>7389315
Very interesting. Very intriguing and not at all corny like I was expecting from the top line. Would read more.
Grammar is polished nice, and the modern vocabulary and ways of thinking are nice too.
We know about the characters all that we need to, which is a very good thing.
This edition of mine is only about 400 words. Not long at all.
http://pastebin.com/u8dbLndG
>>7389315
rhythm's kind of fucked up (should be: "They did none of those things.")
prophecy for the slanderers
Jesus & thee
circling one another
like on UFC
>>7389477
Error 404:
Your haiku was not found
Try again later
Can you put the Kolsti pdf up again please?
>>7389369
bethesda-tier writing
>You fight the good fight for galaxy news radio!
>>7389517
i don't understnad
pls explain for a 3rd party
>>7389543
seems like an excerpt of lazy videogame writing like you'd see in Fallout 3
>>7389556
ah ok. i haven't played fallout at all because... shit pc. just a lurker though, glad you made it understood to me
>>7389582
If you ever get a good one, I recommend New Vegas with lots of mods. Insane player freedom (no unkillable characters in the whole game) and actual good writing
>>7382110
Hey Crit. This is probably the wrong thread for this, but I didn't want to make a new one for such a worthless question.
A character in my novel is a notable spree killer. Think Elliot Roger, but actually good at killing, having racked up about 900+ kills due to plot bullshit. Problem is, I think the name I've given him in-universe is terrible. If anyone has an improvement on "One Man School Shutdown", or could push me in the right direction I'd be very grateful.
>>7389813
Spade Spurter.
>>7389813
Roger Elliott.
>>7389813
Why "School Shutdown" if he's just a general serial killer? Your title makes it sound like Columbine at a 100% success rate.
>>7389477
The antithesis is amazing. Simple but to the point. Would buy a book of your poems.
>>7389813
The Conqueror Worm
Also, please critique my poem. I want to know if it makes sense to anyone,
One day-
I asked a sighing bough-
If he evermore did sigh-
For none but a wren
Naught said he-
But his limbs frowned towards the west-
Towards the galloping peaks-
Where I saw an autumn sun
Peeping freely about its shoulders
>>7389813
spree time killer??
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this paragraph on my lunch can someone critique it please:
He slinked back in shock at what he'd just done, the body of his teacher let out it's final gasp. It's final sight is of a frightened 18 yr old looking in fear. It's final thought "You son of a bitch". Crying and rocking back and forth he chants to himself "I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry" He gets up and brushes himself off still panting.The blade still lodged in his teachers chest, blood filling the lungs, He removes it and uses his to clean the blades. He peeks his head out of the office door, looks to the left then the right then the left again. He walks away as if it never happened
>>7389813
Butte Blugg
>>7390942
Dude....please be joking..
>>7390966
critique please
>>7390942
*Tips fedora*
Quite nice there lad, but not enough.
*Unzips katana*
>>7389582
>ah ok. i haven't played fallout at all because... shit pc
If only there was a game called Fallout without high specs. Alas...
>>7390969
Theres so much wrong with it that it's hard to give you advice on the paragraph as a whole. It's clunky, it doesn't flow at all, and I'm dumbfounded why you're describing the teacher as an "It", assuming you intended to do that, but I'm going to go ahead and guess English isn't your first language. Either way, the dialog is tasteless and bland and the writing is so unremarkable that I laughed at most of it
>>7390750
Sorry, I didn't really give all the details. I posted just before I left the house. I mean he's got the general disposition of Elliot Roger. His current title comes from him slaughtering his way through a single high school. So yeah, more like 99% Columbine.
>>7390835
I like this one, but it doesn't feel like a name the media would assign. As for your poem, I get what's supposed to be happening, but you muddle the second verse a little by referring to hills and the sun using them as "shoulders". It throws off the focus.
>>7386235
Plz critique
>>7391235
It's nothing.
>>7388711
What do you mean family?
>>7389315
This was... OK. It kind of felt like it was building to more than that, honestly. Also, I don't think that 'feeling dead' plays well as a description of 'pain', does it? 'Feeling dead' seems more to suggest numbness. You can use that, you can make it a sort of meta-pain, anguish about the fact of feeling dead, but you need some mediation between 'pain' and 'feeling dead', I think.
-------------------------------------------------
Around 4:30 on the morning of July 8th, 2003, Malcolm Sugar and Blake Penrose forced open the sliding doors of the patio entrance to No. 14 West Haven Row. Making their way upstairs, they entered the bedroom of Terry and Evelyn Mortimer. Penrose struck the sleeping Terry Mortimer with a cricket bat, while Sugar roused Mrs Mortimer and restrained her with duct tape. Having secured Mr Mortimer, Penrose went into the next room to restrain the couple's eight-year-old son Jacob, while Sugar interrogated Mrs Mortimer as to the valuables the pair believed to be in the house. Once Jacob was immobilised, Penrose entered the bedroom of his fifteen-year-old sister, Jessica. She, too, was wrapped in duct tape.
Evelyn Mortimer repeatedly stated that there were no valuables of note in the house. She encouraged Sugar to take whatever he thought might be worth something, so long as her children were not harmed. Searching the drawers in Mr Mortimer's study, Penrose discovered a bank statement. It showed a balance of fourteen thousand, four hundred and seventy pounds. Sugar and Penrose conferred. They agreed to remain in the house until the nearest branch of the Mortimers' bank opened. Sugar would then accompany Mrs Mortimer to the bank, where she would withdraw eight thousand pounds - the maximum, Mrs Mortimer told them, that could be withdrawn from the account at one time.
The two children were carried into their parents' bedroom. Sugar went to the sitting-room and brought up a DVD player and several films. Bound in duct-tape, Mrs Mortimer and her children watched The Matrix and Gladiator with Sugar and Penrose. Mr Mortimer was semi-conscious. Around 8:30, Sugar removed the duct-tape from Evelyn Mortimer and allowed her to dress. She then drove with Sugar to the bank branch. It was understood that Sugar would contact Penrose by phone once the funds had been withdrawn, and that terrible consequences would be visited on the Mortimers if Penrose did not receive that call within a certain time.
(1/2)
>>7391683
Several minutes after Sugar and Mrs Mortimer left, Penrose - whose predilection for younger girls was known to his friends and family - carried Jessica Mortimer back to her own bedroom, where he assaulted her in a manner so vicious as to pass human understanding. At her request, Jessica was permitted to shower. Penrose accompanied her to the bathroom.
In the bank, a visibly-distressed Evelyn Mortimer made sure to withdraw the eight thousand pounds before hurriedly conveying the situation to the cashier. She then returned to the car, where Sugar was waiting. Sugar called Penrose to signal their success. They began the journey back to West Haven Row.
Searching the Mortimers' garage, Penrose discovered several large containers of white spirits. Waiting until he heard the Mortimers' car pulling in to the driveway, he began to pour the spirits onto the floor of the Mortimers' bedroom, where Terry, Jacob and Jessica lay restrained on the bed. Having poured the first two containers in the bedroom, with the third, he poured a trail from the bedroom to the top of the stairs, then placed the container, almost full, upended by the stairs. He then went downstairs to meet Sugar and Mrs Mortimer.
As soon as Mrs Mortimer had entered the house, Penrose struck her repeatedly with the cricket bat, killing her. Penrose explained to Sugar that the situation was now "fucked" and that they could not allow any of the Mortimers to live. Over Sugar's protests, Penrose lit the trail of spirits which had, by now, flowed to the bottom of the stairs and ran, taking the eight thousand pounds with him.
In the Mortimers' car, Penrose was stopped after traveling some six hundred feet, by police responding to the call the bank manager had placed. Driving erratically, carrying eight thousand pounds he could not account for and smelling strongly of white spirits, he was detained. So began his prosecution and imprisonment on a whole life tariff.
Sugar, meanwhile, had run up the stairs and into the Mortimers' bedroom. He lifted up Jacob Mortimer and carried him down the stairs and out to the front garden, placing him on the grass. Unsteady on his feet, he vomited before running back into the house. Firefighters found his corpse in the corner of the stairwell, along with that of Jessica Mortimer. It is presumed that he was trying to carry her to safety as he had me.
The Penrose trial was covered exhaustively in the media. He was denounced and reviled as such people are. Documentaries were produced and columns written about the depths of his depravity. About the banality of his evil, about the system which did too little, slant depending, either to rehabilitate or to curtail him.
(2/what turned out to be 3)
>>7391685
I think about him sometimes, in the ordinary way some chance event calls a memory of childhood to mind. Sometimes he is mentioned in the papers, often having been attacked by other prisoners. Malcolm Sugar is a footnote in these scribblings, but it's Sugar who haunts me, who accompanies me unwanted through my life. It's Sugar who whispers in my ear at night that there is some mystery here, some imponderable unknown demanding an investigation I don't know how to conduct. Penrose is simple. Penrose is clean. Penrose is neatly evil and disgusting and contemptible, Penrose is an ANSWER. Sugar is a question, one I don't even understand.
>>7391683
>>7391685
>>7391688
Read it aloud to yrself. Then imagine Joyce laughing quietly at how shallow it is while Pinecone is shaking his damn head and Snake sits in his helicopter brooding over the military industrial complex. Then read it out loud again.
>>7391702
Well, thanks for your time.
>>7391702
you've posted this before
"You all set then?" He asked from his chair. I looked to Father. He sat on his chair in the corner of the room. It had always been his chair. It was hard to imagine the old, Austrian, red-leathered hulk without him snuggled deep within it.
"All set." I replied. He nodded, his eyes looked to mine, but I could not hold his gaze. I turned to the door, "I guess I'll see you, when I see you." I said, and began to walk out.
"Don't forget who you are." He said, quietly, but his voice carried well. Father's voice always carried well. "Don't forget your home, your people." I stopped, for the first time since I told them I was leaving, was I hearing a hint of emotion from him. "You may think that you'll find yourself in the hustle and bustle of America but I have been there, and it is all empty promises and false happiness. It hurts me dearly that you'd not trust in me, and instead your going to have to find out the truth for yourself."
"I do trust you..." I said, quivering a little. It hurts having someone you love so much sound so, hurt by your actions.
"No you don't." He said. "Or you'd stay. You'd stay with us."
"You know I can't just stay." I said, my face growing red. "There is nothing for me here!" Father's face did not change, he sat still on his old red throne, looking at me with disappointed eyes. "There is everything for you here. If you cannot see that, then I am glad that you are going. Come back when you are truly a man." I turned and fled through the door. I would not let my Father see my cry, I would not give him that victory.
>>7385009
You have potential. Read more, endeavor make your writing more efficient. The way it's written right now is clunky. Try to use less of "had". The tone is good.
>>7389369
Feels somewhat simplistic but also draws in the reader. I'd definitely like to know more about the characters and where they're headed.
----------------------------------------------------
I needed a change of pace, that's all. Sometimes there just comes a point in your life where you get so used to every little thing and it just drives you nuts. Admittedly, that doesn't happen to everyone but it happened to me, it always happens to me. The whole thing usually takes about two years--I move in somewhere, having brought nothing with me but the shirt on my back; I'll work a couple of odd jobs, do some web design here and there, get on with the locals, maybe even break some hearts...and then I'm gone. Everything starts all over somewhere else. Some therapist quack told me I do this because I'm trying to run away from something in my past or whatever, but not caring about something isn't the same as running away from it, you know? You'd think he would've said I had a fear of commitment--which I DON'T--.I'm not afraid of settling down, I just like change--I like to make change.
>>7392598
>then
>>/out/
http://pastebin.com/n0qfbqwx
What is all this senpai and desu shit about
>>7392871
You are on a site that started around Anime/Manga there senpai
I am parody desu
>>7391688
It was interesting enough, which is a good thing. It's not the edgiest thing possible, which is reassuring.
I'm not exactly sure what other anon was saying... ironically I understand /lit/ less than /adv/. Maybe my vocabulary is just shit.
I try to channelTom Clancy mixed with some other peopleand his vocab wasn't great.
Or it's just shit communication from half-assed reviews.
Anyways, my final thoughts on this are that it would be a good description/intro to a young boy's either descent into madness to become a villain, honorable or not, saying 'fuck the world', or if he'd become a hero/anti-hero batman kind of thing. It would work well enough.
I'd like advice on how the kinetics, physics, positions, general flow and blow by blow of this goes. That's what I'm mainly worried about.
If anyone asks, what happens after can be put up for reviewing.
http://pastebin.com/a0v2JKg1
>>7392871
filters u dip . can u not rite now . everyone is awesome everyone is fun . i am nice! be nice back. every sent-aince a slice of paradise . holla if u feel me, yall! *hollars are heard* h'haaa! i gotchu, san-diegooooo! we rootin for ya, root in return, y'hear? home or away game, the claimant is always the same. oh sh*t, TRAIN! *we scatter from train tracks* the afternoon was damp with essence of plantlife that had reveled in the morning rain. we finished our round of stick-ball on the hot concrete platform under those gorgeous orange clouds.
http://pastebin.com/PFdFV5CA
PLZ critiquw
>>7385129
>rough and tumble
Never heard the phrase rough and tumble bar?
>>7393977
I didn't get all 47000 words but I think I have enough there
Used random words and made some up of my own.
>>7383469
I like it, but I feel there should be some sort of emphasised contrast between the locked-up boy and the bystanders.
>>7393199
Revolutionary, enticing, and even a little bit arousing.
I like how the lack of commas reflects the rampant state of the narrator's mind, and how the consonants flow into each other like a constant stream of madness.
It's quite a clear picture of the modern day leper, if a little flawed- the prose simply does not convey beauty in degeneracy, like say- Mr. Nabokov does, and your vocabulary doesn't quite match your voraciousness
Now, my piece- the prologue for a stream-of-consciousness story about a depressed musician's whose life has gone haywire, and is trying to climb back up again.
---------------------------------
My best friend died in a car accident four years ago. He's dead and gone. Iceland's his favorite place.
I'm gonna build him a skatepark.
You don't have to be a musician to be an earth rocker. My cousin's an earth rocker.
My other best friend's on heroin again, he's back in rehab for his 16th time- good luck wih that one.
I'm sick of the bullshit. I'm sick of all the shit.
I don't go out anymore cause I hate every motherfucker, I don't care what they're up to.
4 years I've wasted sipping on drinks at the bar, chit-chatting with fucking nobodies.
Now I stay at home, like a fucking hermit, not gonna take any shit from anybody.
I know what's going on.
I got set up. I got jumped. Thank god she wasn't there to watch me get my fucking ass kicked, she probably would've wound up with a blackeye and went to jail- she has a big mouth.
I live for this shit.
I love it.
Bring it the fuck on.
Can you hear the call of the wasted and wounded?
>>7385138
The part about microblogs is actually really good.
>>7394523
I like how you have a solid aesthetic that you reinforce with alot of good diction. The only problem I have with the poem is that all you have is the aesthetic. It's pure abstraction.
The aesthetic of the poem is what you're trying to emphasize to the utmost degree, that is fine, but solely focusing on it leaves only diction to reinforce it. The result is that the poem from the readers' perspective seems static and underdeveloped. What I mean by this is that instead of the poem's inner aesthetic value being revealed and developed as the poem progresses, it is instead a set value that is only reiterated by each word. I hope this makes sense.
http://pastebin.com/JKs5yYVu
Here's an excerpt from a short story that is planned to be serialized in my older brother's Magazine.
just a quick sketch made on the bus today
Modern metropolis, the place to live in imposed exile, see but not be seen, perfect observer is a part of the background, the crowds, never standing out unless choosing to, sometimes not even then. The future of mankind, packed ever closer, separated ever further, walled islands floating amongst structures and halls of metal and concrete, inhabiting spaces, communicating not via speech but microchips and fiber optics, the man across the room, a stranger, the man across the planet, a friend.
I never write, I'm high, I'm drunk, ne nice.
As I plung into my daily post-modernist activity (online job searching) I think of the absurdity of it all. The 'there is no
free will' thing I mean. How could a universe so frighteningly beautiful and intense encompass in it's space-time continuum
such a mollecular mess engaging in such a farcical commotion.
>>7382249
gjor det neger, du slipper ikke unna
>>7382110
this place of trumpets and strings
a halo; steadily, soundly
no art is worthy
of this place
of mindful gaze and gentle tempest
of center
and sweet redemption
i just wanna post my things
fuck you
dont make me criticize others
suck my cock
i dont wanna use some
cock sucking website
i bet you
wouldnt fuck
a lovely voluptuous
negress
not out of faggotry
but out of sexual
anxiety
At first it builds a pressure inside of her stomach, punctuated with dull aches. Secondly it burns, pushing increases the pain and all she gets is air. After every spasm of pain she clenches up, her sphincter almost appears to be gasping for breath.
Finally she feels it shift, the mound of hate that inhabits her bowels speeds towards her opening, bursting free of her with a two toned squeak, the sensation of wetness covering her cheeks and the stench of sulfur to burn her nose and catch in her throat.
>>7392461
That's pretty good, the father seems a bit emotional for someone who has that much power in his sons life and I can't quite tell if he's supposed to be ethnic or just white from a poor country.
>>7398960
desu no criticism is better than shit criticism
I'm fucking terrible at giving people critique but here goes.
>>7398969
Very vivid description of a woman taking a shit. George R.R. Martin take notes. This is how it's done.
>>7398960
Last three lines hits pretty close at home, not cool man.
>>7398758
Maybe slightly flowery. "Gentle temspest" sounds like an oxymoron as well.
>>7396868
Great last sentence. The rest, not so much.
>>7396323
This is how I wish I could write. Beautiful and slightly melancholic, and profound without sounding pretentious.
>>7394862
Not a fan of this one, sorry. "I'm sick of the bullshit. I'm sick of all the shit." This kind of prose just does nothing for me.
------------------------------------------
Anyway, here's mine. Sorry it's a bit long. Also I'm sure it was more fun for me to write than it is for you to read.
