Let's git r dun. Do me, baby ;^O
Language is light coming directly from the image of the sun's disk, the shaft of sunlight into a darkened room. The words change significantly across the day and depends on the angle of the sun above the horizon, the altitude of the reader above sea level, the season, the geographical location and the amount of water vapor, dust and smoke in the air. This sentence itself is so brilliant that it overwhelms imagination, making all judgments unreliable, but if the noon sun were dimmed sufficiently, it would appear as a pale evening in your elementary school's empty halls. Pale greenish yellow schoolroom drawings. This color appears in the afterimage from rutilant light between the pines in my yard.
Who am I becoming as these nights & days fly by fly by fly by.
question: should i drink a coffee and read programming blogs or take a nap while listening to a patrish audiobooks?
>>8037467
Beautiful midnight puns for pinters to pontificate o'er.
I extinguished my life like a adolescent blowing out the candles of his birthday cake, hoping with glee that maybe there's something precious that is going to be given to him next. Or maybe those fuckers didn't bring presents and the only thing left for him is misery. Or just some piece. Of cake. That he may or may not enjoy. I don't know.
"My friend John, i've grown very close of you. You're young and have a mind of influence. I hope I can share every ounce of my knowledge with you, and pour every amount of influence onto you. But when I speak of this I speak it very solemnly, and this conversation does not leave the room. I hope that what i'm about to tell you; you'll be able to fully grasp it.
"I listen with an open ear and an open mind sir. I know that everything you say is wise and brilliant. You have my trust of not telling any kind of foolery, you know more than I wish to know"
"Good, now know we we're a creation of a god. You knwo just of that my friend. But we're also changed by mankind. In this world there are two types, alive or dead, light and dark, but most of all. There is good and evil. Ive seen every side of every man. I can recall that day, it was almost like a unexpected visit from the devil himself. It was some dark stormy night 15 years ago, I know of it so well. I was in the church, sleeping in the back when I heard loud bangs come from the churchs front door. I got up, and answered the door to the man. He was kind, and well dressed. He was cold and wet. I offered him to tell me of his request at such this time, and he did! But told me that it was only worthy of conversation in the confession box, so I led him the way. I looked at him throught the holes, he had eyes; eyes that I havent forgotten since I saw them. They burnt of red, and a chilling fire. His breath was one of an old dogs, and his face was snow white. I asked what's his proposal, and thats when he told me
>>8037434
whenever I see one of these threads I type what I wrote in the field and immediately see something wrong with it and have to revise it
critique this post
>>8038972
CLASSIC
The joke isn't "Hitler did nothing wrong" its that Hitler did nothing new and nothing we aren't guilty of. The Nazis were intolerant of a lot of other things besides a Jewish oligarchy. If the people want to live in Nazi Germany, if the people only seem to follow the lead of Hitlers, it might as well be the funny Hitler. The Hitler that the whole establishment seems to be against.
The only time evil is interesting to me is when there are moral arguments that attempt to justify it. If all the "other side" can say is hes ignorant, or hes mean, hes a racist, that's not an argument, that's a sign that the "other side" is debeaked, they lack the tools to defend themselves, there ceases to be any reasoning or discussion. I don't see Trump making a mockery of US politics, I see him mocking US politics for what it is. If people are so tolerant and progressive wouldn't they concede that Mexicans aren't a race but a nationality? If the patriarchy is a real thing wouldn't that thing be called Islam? The liberals are told that lobbyist and advocacy groups are scientific and unquestionable, these non-facts they themselves never check because the lies are too convenient for their ideology to be questioned. How is that any different than evangelizing? Liberalism is faith based, it pretends to be inclusive but it preaches intolerance, it is a religion.
Shillery and Hernie Panders are globalist, globalism is paying for slave labor in countries willing to allow it, its offshore money and deals that fuck over both the consumers and the workers on either side. Trump is a nationalist, I think a lack of national pride is the reason behind all the negativism and lies. There is no evidence historically or scientifically that diversity alone is a strength, diversity itself is nothing without a collective national identity, if the consensus among all of us is "life isn't fair" then diversity is going to fail miserably, because the evidence says unity is strength. That's why they called it a melting pot and not a salad bar. Picking and choosing who to defend is the sport and all it seems to be doing is building walls. I'd rather have Nationalism than Globalism.
>>8040221
Messy. Its? It's it's. If you're going to tackle jimmy-rustling topics, you really got to get the little stuff right.
Place: Egypt (subject to change)
Time: Before Narmer (subject to change)
The short one stood in front of a big door, fingers gripped tightly a reed pen. The sun beat down on her dark well-sunned neck back. The white cloth she wore kept her cool but her skin was still hot, sweaty and sunburnt. The poor girl looked tired. All the strength she had left was devoted to strangling the pen.
The tall one walks past with a ball, throwing it high up in the air and running to catch it. She is having fun running and chasing the falling ball, testing her eyesight in the morning sun and seeing how fast she can run to catch the ball.
They notice each other without looking at each other but their ears focused on each other. With one huge chuck, the ball flew into the sun and fell on the rooftop above the doors of the temple. Her eyes rolled down to the door and on the hunched neck of the girl standing in the sun.
“My ball fell on the roof.”
Silence
“You see my ball drop on the roof?”
Silence
Tall one noticed short one head slouched over in a tired posture
“you alright? Why you stand at the scribes door?”
“…Leave me.”
“Yes. Come na? We going to The Hills as offering after the big moon. I’m so happy. Come na u dress dirty, let’s go down to Ar and make our offering clean. I can find it I think...”
“leave me na!”
Just then tall one grab short one to gently pull her into her but her body offered no resistance and she took a long stumble to the ground. Face in dirt, Short one felt every muscle in her body relax as if all the life that kept her upright evaporated away.
There she laid, tears streaming from red eyes, bawling and burbling throw pursed lips; still holding the pen.
Tall girl saw her face and was sad and sorry for pulling her. She reached down to put her hand on her shoulder. Short ones skin was coarse with dirt.
“Sorry. Hush. I sorry… don’t cry.”
But there was no way a hand and words could have helped her. Tall one almost cried herself but she remembered that to wear the dress was her choice and most don’t get to choose.
“Please… come. Please.”
She got down on her side, face to face with the lying, crying short girl.
“Come… please. We find something and cook up. Just come. Please.”
“Cook up? I should have just said eat” She thought to herself. What a big promise for one homeless girl to be making to another. But she felt guilty for bothering her, making her fall down and for wearing so proudly the dress short one was tasked to wear.
[This is copy pasted, unedited free writing.]
>>8037467
actually very well written, but you'll never get praise for it
if it was a hundred years ago then it would be considered a work of genius today, but today it's indecipherable babbling
>>8040305
If the setting is in Egypt the ebonics speak bothers me.
>>8039292
I think its probably good because the cliffhanger actually makes me want to read what the mysterious white devil man says.
>>8040261
thanks for the grammar check, but I was wondering whether or not the ideas were expressed coherently.
>>8040221
This is so poorly written that I'm having difficultly criticizing the topic discussed in it, but I suppose I'll try. Firstly, I sure as hell hope you didn't actually start off with "the joke isn't...", and this is simply an excerpt, because if you did, change that shit. It's ambiguous and annoying. Which joke, shithead? That intro could be infinitely better. Also, Hitler did do something fairly new with his use of death camps to commit extensive, successful genocide. This next bit might just be the worst line in the whole shitstorm. Grammar is terrible. Learn to use apostrophes. The "funny Hitler" is vague and it took me several reads of that line to figure out that you were talking about Trump. Also, the argument is wrong. Your argument is "why not?", in essence. If that's the best argument you can come up with, there's probably a good reason as to "why not?".
Again, learn to use apostrophes. If you're a non-native English-speaker, it's forgivable. Otherwise, you're a dumbass. Next, you shit out a complete strawman. There are multitudinous legitimate arguments against Trump. If you want to discuss that, we can, but now I'm just focusing on how terrible this writing is. Another facet of the strawman-yness of that line is the fact that those statements generally aren't intended to be arguments, they're observations. If someone is using them as an argument, then I suppose you've found yourself an intellectual equal. Until then, you're nonpareil. Also, "debeaked"? Get a fucking better adjective than that. Jesus.
This line is pure gold:
>I dont sea the trumps makin a mockery of american polidicks hes just makin am ockery of ameriacn polidcks.
That's basically what you said. That's what you sound like. Proofread.
I actually agree with you on the fact that the patriarchy is a feminist boogeyman, but it's not Islam.
Liberalism isn't faith based. What you're describing isn't liberalism. You're describing the behaviors of people who label themselves liberal, but are, in fact, authoritarian; conservative.
Hillary is full of shit. I honestly don't know what her stance is on anything. She's a complete sell-out. Bernie may be a globalist, but you've yet to conclusively demonstrate that. You also haven't demonstrated that globalism is baleful, you simply say it is without backing yourself up.
Nationalism is responsible for the majority of wars and genocides that have occurred in history. It is very, very rarely positive. It unites people against "outsiders".
I'll give you some credit for the melting pot v. salad bar line, that was fairly decent.
Finally, you capitalized Nationalism and Globalism incorrectly.
>>8037455
What programming blogs do you read?
>>8037434
>This won a school writing competition 2 years ago
Why does it not burn, is it because it occurs at a frequency so high now? Why does it not emit light? The universe says it does, the universe will make it bright. I can’t find where the tissues are, the abjuring tissues. They used to be on the shelf, or perhaps again, the universe decided to sport its’ deceptive mantle? The joints in the knee are maimed, and all purpose has been rejected yet again. The impact is too strong.
Why does the flame emit no light? After all, the lights were off and it was night. The trails could only be discerned because the universe tells me they are so emotionally imparted. What’s the purpose of the multifarious universe? Why does it scorn?
The echo spawned again, this time in another form; “I want to die…”, was it her, or was it the universe? I think tissues could quell both. I don’t want either of them to die, I love both of them, even if they’ve hurt me. Beauty, even against the convention of beauty cast in light.
“… want to die, want to die”
Why did I keep on falling, I did, after all, tie my shoelaces and bind them against the whim of the universe. Where was the switch, for I have concluded that casting a light may be conducive to the ultimate mitigation? I cross my fingers, and hope that my shoelaces shield me against the whim of the universe.“Don’t die, universe loves you, it really does.”
Another collision occurred, and I found myself loathing the universe. Why are individuals, who hold tempers and rationality in equal hands, treated like playthings by the universe? I wish the universe were an individual; that way, I would be able to afflict on it with all my might until it would be too painful to even emit wax.
“… just let me, say it.”
An image flashes in my head, one of a clarity untouched for a long time, and with it, returned some sense of rational judgment; she was on the bed, clad in clothing that was obviously thrown on because they were at the top of the cupboard pockets, with her hands covering her face. She would not reveal her face, but I continued prying at her with the tissue in my hand. I knew she was beautiful, I knew her eyes were big and that her skin was delicate. She threw her arms around my waist, and that is when I fell, which incurred her sadness further.
“The universe never said for you to hurt anyone, meaning you can’t hurt yourself. It does the job well enough by itself.”
My hands infer a box, and the inference travels through my body; my brain realises futility, and thus, I discard the box by pushing it off the edifice it was on, resulting in a loud thump.
“I don’t care if you don’t love me, but can you feel love?”
Everything is grey or black, and it has been that way for a long time, yet the bland chromatic scheme presents so much beauty and insight. The wax seems to have faded, but I should nonetheless pursue the tissues.
>>8040368
>expressed coherently
Broken grammar would mean 'no'. You could also organize your ideas a little better. It's a bit squishy. Think logical architecture. Think rhetoric: Ethos, Logos, & Pathos. Hard evidence, inarguable historical facts would help.
>>8040410
They're probably over your head.
This came up on me very suddenly and I thought I'd write it down. Is it worth editing and polishing? Maybe develop this in a lengthy poem? I have a terrible command over metre, so bear the irregularities with me.
I am like a leper, as unwanted as a thief,
I wonder back and fro, searching for sleep,
But find no so such resting place for my grief,
Only slumber on my acursed sorrows so deep.
>>8040394
>Your argument is "why not?", in essence. If that's the best argument you can come up with, there's probably a good reason as to "why not?".
There was no argument actually intended to persuade someone in either direction or toward any of the candidates, its simply a declaration that all of them are on equal footing to be called Hitler. Trump being the Hitler of my choosing I think is expressed in the end and I can see you disagree with my reasoning.
>Liberalism isn't faith based
Liberalism: A political theory founded on the natural goodness of humans and the autonomy of the individual and favoring civil and political liberties, government by law with the consent of the governed, and protection from arbitrary authority.
Faith in that your fellow man are all basically good, faith in government. Plus this is totally arbitrary, we both know what liberal in this day and age means. Its the idea that it is necessary to sacrifice individual liberties in order to help the disenfranchised, that's what liberalism is now, otherwise known as social justice. Its no longer to protect itself against arbitrary authority because they don't see it being arbitrary to them, its necessary and fanatical. Think Bernie Sanders.
>authoritarian; conservative
I was describing authoritarians, conservatives however are not authoritarian. Where does that idea come from?
>patriarchy is a feminist boogeyman, but it's not Islam.
Do you know anything about Islam? Its the most extreme example of a patriarchal system that exist.
>Bernie may be a globalist, but you've yet to conclusively demonstrate that
You're right I should do that.
>You also haven't demonstrated that globalism is baleful
I'm specifically talking about trade practices that allow "developing countries" to be exploited for their low cost of labor and resources. Whether that be products made in china, material taken from Africa or importing workers from out of country, this isn't something that I feel needs to be proven, they are objective problems with globalism.
>I don't see Trump making a mockery of US politics, I see him mocking US politics for what it is.
You're right I could have worded this better. The idea comes from something I hear repeated a lot, "Trump is popular and this goes to show how politics in the USA are a joke". As for how he is intentionally making a mockery of what politics are in the USA it assumes you've been paying attention to his campaign and how he makes a show of insulting his opponents, how good he is at creating drama and getting free publicity.
>>8040394
>cont.
>Nationalism is responsible for the majority of wars and genocides that have occurred in history. It is very, very rarely positive. It unites people against "outsiders".
This part is actually interesting for you to say because it will actually force us to differentiate between genocide and war. I would agree Nationalism causes wars, but wars are necessary and with how things are going in Europe I don't think its unreasonable to hunker down and refuse immigration, close the borders and build walls. As far as genocide is concerned I believe the main difference is that genocide tends to fall into the category of persecution by your own government, that's not Nationalism that does that, far more evidence that this is done by Socialist.
>I'll give you some credit for the melting pot v. salad bar line, that was fairly decent.
>Finally, you capitalized Nationalism and Globalism incorrectly.
lol thanks.
>There are multitudinous legitimate arguments against Trump. If you want to discuss that, we can
I actually would like to hear your thoughts as to your own "why nots" and discuss this. As long as you can keep the insults to a minimum and actually build your case.
I know I keep forgetting the apostrophes, don't let it trigger you, its a bad habit.
>>8040477
You really aren't hitting on anything interesting, you're not cracking into any dark dendrite knots, and you're really low energy. A real nasty guy.
Your sadness is bathetic, transcends naught, and your poem would embarrass anyone who knows ye.
>>8040578
that poem embarrass me despite i dont know its author
it's extremily poor;y written
>>8040578
This sounds like a meaningless trove of adjectives thrown together to sound deep whilst lacking anything that even remotely resembles depth.
I need a real critique. Yes, it is a bad poem, but what would you do to improve? What do I do to improve my skill?
>inb4 neglect it and forget it
That way nothing will ever come together.
On a scale of 1 to 10, how gay is this?
Come on, friends
Part the clouds that surround me;
Raise me, please
Awaken me from the sleepless nights;
Share my interests
My wants, my moods
Take my desire
For you all
Perfect friends
And toil with me
Toil with me
Together, we won't
Let's go together
Together, we'll fall towards a blissful abyss
Maybe there is a floor;
Maybe we will forget
The clouds and the sky.
This is literally my first attempt at poetry, so, any advice or constructive criticism is welcome. I'm not certain I used all the semi-colons correctly, or if I used enough.
Also, how important do you think rhyming is? Obviously it isn't necessary, but should I be making an effort to rhyme? Do you feel there's any reason for it other than rhythm?
>>8040461
No tell us dude :D
>>8039292
Shite. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.
>>8040632
Pretty fucking gay, I'd say about 7.5/10
Here's a triolet I wrote for my CW class, posting on here might fuck the spacing up
“Shimmy over here them, those, them oysters,”
belched Billy blunting butter knives bitterly
in initial carving, the initial carving since lost in boisterous shimmying over. Here: them: those: them: oysters glossy in the mucus way, slimey shells shimmied. Overhear them, those. “Them oysters belchin’” Billy blunted, but erred: knife’s bitter lie.
>>8040755
"Shimmy over here them, those, them oysters,"
belched Billy blunting butter knives bitterly
in initial carving, the initial carving since lost in boisterous
shimmying over. Here: them: those: them: oysters
glossy in the mucus way, slimey shells
shimmied. Overhear them, those, "Them oysters
belchin'" Billy blunted, but erred: knife's bitter lie.
Hopefully this one is spaced right
>>8040612
Those adjectives really shouldn't be out if your range, particularly if you self ID as a poet.
Interesting: grabs attention by dealing with human universals in a beautiful way.
Dark dendrite knots: creating connections that untangle unknowns.
Low energy: boring.
Nasty guy: apparently you are an asshole—I was joshin' around.
Bathetic: anticlimatic.
Transcend: reaches beyond the usual limits of shitty poetry.
Embarrass: make them feel awkward.
Pathos not bathos—I didn't want your poem to be terrible, but it is. Yeah sadness, wow. Do you know what a coconut monkey trap is?
Names are placeholders while I just throw two random words together
>>8040699
Ta.
>>8040806
What would you recommend for me to do to improve my writing? I am new to this. As I said, it was something spontaneous. Well sadness has been the subject of many poems, but what can one do to make his sadness into something aesthetically beautiful? Recommend me something. I'll appreciate all of it.
>>8040933
Read the Meme Trilogy.
Consider these as topics:
https://condor.depaul.edu/mfiddler/hyphen/humunivers.htm
Keep filling notebooks—you have to burn off all your shitty impulses, so just go go go.
Keep notebooks of your favorite lines & reverse engineer them.
And number one thing:Don't take advice from some asshole on the internet.;^o
>>8040966
I don't see the relevance of meme trilogy here.
Thanks for the link.
As a side question, how do I deal with absolute inability to detect metre? I just can't.
>>8037434
bretty good
>>8040755
Shimmy 'em, those, dem oysters, shucked Billy shucking slurps slurped from the pearlescent innards now since lost from the shimmying belly of th' placid rock beasts. Here: 'em: dose: dem: oysters opulent in the opalescent way, crusty shells, dirtily bearded. Overhear 'em, dose crunch beneath booted boots: Damn oysters smell like clean cunt Billy blurted slurping, erection pulsing noonward.
>>8040998
Nice, but it isn't a triolet
>>8040966
What's the meme trilogy?
>>8040980
Ulysses is the god damned Hagia Sophia of English language architecture. Gravity's Rainbow is mind ripping long form poetic fireworks packed into linguistic sidewinder missiles, page after page.
If you skipped Endless Fun, no one would notice.
>>8041014
The Iliad, The Odyssey, & The Aeneid
>>8041014
Endless Fun, Pinecone's V. 2, and Mrs. Yes
The bowels of Max’s glowed in absence of the gliding Star, churning over itself and signaling to wayless Sails that this was a place to untether themselves from the troubles that were inescapable in their Days. John was one of those wanderers, and had found a home in the pub years before. He strutted into the Ruckus, not with arrogance, or even confidence, but with familiarity born from endless nights pissing away with Phantoms only visible past dusk. And there they were, Billy, Sammy, Knobby, Sonny, all sat parallel to the bar and even spaced, save for an empty spot in between Sammy and Knobby. John slinked in. The aged chair sunk with his presence; the upholstery fitted snuggly around the patterns of his Ass. Billy and Sammy glanced to the left, Knobby and Sonny looked right, and their eyes all lit up with recognition of their old friend.
>>8041115
Are you just capitalizing certain words because you think it's cool or something?
>>8041132
Not that poster, but that used to be normal in English, a sort of imitation of German.
>>8041132
its set in medieval europe
>>8041147
Then some vocab changes are in need, specifically pub
>>8041174
publick house?
>>8041185
Or tavern I guess
>>8040461
What an absolute faggot you are.
>>8041014
Shit, by The Riddler
Meandering Demonstration of Expensive Liberal Arts Education, by Quirky Sperger (He Kill Hisself)
Directionless Blob of Some Faggot's Hobbies and Interests, by Quirky Recluse
I am a fucking garbage writer, and even the act of getting myself to write anything is incredibly stressful for me. Here is my latest attempt at writing ANYTHING.
http://pastebin.com/AVyebkvC
My vocabulary is lacking and learning new words for me is incredibly hard for some reason. I can never seem to say whatever it is I want to say. Anyone have any tips on learning new words? I never remember any of the new words I pick up from reading. I don't know why.
My prose is dongs and everything about writing is a nightmare, even though it's the only thing I want to do. This is the first time I've posted anything, so pls crit so I can hopefully try to remember things to use the next time I write something.
I feel like I use "but," "and," "the," and all sorts of sentence particles way too much, but I haven't a clue how to fix this issue. For someone that reads as much as myself, I sure do feel like a fucking retard for not being able to write with more eloquence than a middle-schooler.
I need to come up with an idea for a short story. I rarely have ideas, though. I need to get out of the house.
What does it taste like?
The fruit of a nothing seed
Like the light of the blue glowing screens
Her plea faint, in her dreams she screams
For the drug that feeds the friendless feigns
Finish your food please
Lick the plate white and clean
Tell me what you think
Tell me what I need
Please, dear baby please
Tell me what it all means
What it means to be seen
Through the light of the blue glowing screens
>>8044643
Why not try offering some crit instead of just bumping you selfish fuck?
>>8042812
It's not bad, just listless. It starts nowhere and stays there until the protag decides, seemingly at random, to dump paint on people. Which, by the way, is a nearly incomprehensible act with what you have so far. Also, did Picasso cut his ear off?
about the dying day in an empty station,
the messy trundle of a loss tear,
the vengeful sound of the sea waves,
about a success story that has to start.
About the world always tense between dreams and stars,
about the plane that leaves and fights 'till the end.
about the dog of an elegant lady,
about the one you forgot and he's still waiting for you,
about the hands where you can rest your forehead,
about the eyes of a man that act like nothing happens,
about the things you think you know about me,
about the things I know about you, even if you don't see me.
About the route that from flat goes uphill,
about that strange yardstick that measures life,
about the absurdity of living for a easy nothing,
about the time that like Charon consumes the mind,
about the fog that appears and slows our lives
about the kid that cries if breaks a pencil.
About the death that waits for us in every common place,
about who's gonna be defeated by it,
about the warmth of hearts that beats without a question,
about your constant absence that makes you important.
what do you think, about me perhaps?
I don't understand, so I sing.
A quickie just for you guys.
/lit/
Oh how!- was I born with iron knees? To displease all fair and me? To run rampant-ly (not ease-ily) through so'm'ber fields of poppy?
To which I do reply what way to hide my gay demise but through lies of smiles and smiling lies.
This is a short story I'm working on translating, what do you think? Did I do a good job?
The Last Examinational-Conference:
Jóhann Einarsson cand. mag. tied his tie and whistled a few cheerful tunes from the "Celebratory Works" of the 1944 independence festival. He became jubilant and felt butterflies in his stomach as if a flute was being played. He had felt these butterflies every now and then every day at the bank. Each time he had been surprised, but then filled with mirth when he remembered why; Tonight was the Examinational Conference. After a long day at the bank he was finally home and about to lay down the last strike of the hammer on his outer self.
The Examinational Conference! This begs the question: What type of conference is an examinational conference? The answer would be like this: The Examinational Conferences were gatherings held by the Organisation of National Studies for professors of Icelandic, History, Anthropological researchers, students of said disciplines and anyone who considered himself a part of this kind of gathering.
These Conferences where usually held twice a year, right before Christmas and at the start of Spring. They proceeded in this fashion, first a specific intellectual presented a lecture on some subject from his study. Then Icelandic cuisine, which with some intellectuals attempt at humor was called, our shared ancient standardized food. Alongside the meal alcohol was served at a low price. After eating men could then discuss the evenings lecture or ask the lecturer questions. This often resulted in heated debate as to be expected when academia, intellect and alcohol is mixed into one. At the end of the discussion session general inebriation commenced.
I'll try a few.
>>8037434
Similes are contrived and alienating. Minor grammatical errors throughout.
>>8037467
Poignant. Not bad at all.
>>8039292
Far too slow to bloom.
>>8040632
Everything written has already been said. It's not "bad", but very unoriginal.
>>8042812
Agreed with the other anon. Your work needs an outline.
>"These thoughts were interrupted by the muffled discourse coming from the alley next to my apartment."
Sentences like these lack a certain smoothness. Refine them.
>>8046078
Reads like it was run through a translator (especially the latter portions).
>>8040426
There are some nice turns of phrase here and I think there is clear talent beneath.
Since you wrote it two years ago I won't waste time deconstructing it. I'd just say write a real story, if you find yourself talking about the universe and not telling me a story about people delete everything you've just written, and try to flush out the old fashioned overwritten crap. I get it, you're young and you love "classic" literature and you want to write good like them. But it won't work. Your hands don't infer a box.
>>8040812
>normality
>resumed the approach
>admist
Is the narrator from the early 20th century perchance? Why are you writing like this?
It's not particularly bad, but it's not very gripping. It has a ring of you making it up as you go along. From this part alone I'd say stick to telling us about the frog and not Jenny and her search for love. But make damn sure there's a point to it though.
>>8041115
I'm not really sure what you are trying to achieve here. To me that first sense conjures up nothing and is bordering nonsense.
Write in real paragraphs. Tell a story. Use style to help tell that story and not just because you felt like being writerly. Then come back to us. Remember, nobody actually gives a shit about your prose.
I'm trying to describe a really distant city, like billions of people, that they are flying by on a ship that is across a huge lake. I am trying to convey the chilly feeling I got looking across a lake in florida and seeing the tiny orange lights of the freeway moving, and imagining it as the evil city of the enemy, it's hard to explain but if you could help me improve this it'd be nice:
Bright lights were strung along the horizon like beads. Their orange glow caught the haze, and their eerie shine caught Leo’s eye. They had to come to Casa Novak at last. Ahead waited the great city of the lice, the size of many nations; the seat of the malevolence; the source of Sarengarth’s many sieges; the very heart of evil itself.
Leo watched as some of the lights shifted, like scurrying ants, massive cruisers moving silently from the distance of a thousand kilometers. The black gulf mirrored sparks; the water seemed to stretch forever. Impossibly far, impossibly huge. A million metal skeletons, wreathed in smog tinged by the orange light. Some of them blinked, in a steady and endless rhythm, towers stretching among the stars. Leo felt a cold chill rush down his spine like a frantic animal, a thrill of muted terror.
And so they rushed on, across the causeway, surrounded on all sides by dozens of louse ships. From time to time they passed under the austere glow of a sentinel tower. Leo saw its light, then compared it to the motes of orange he saw against the horizon.
Andromeda was; she had crept up silently, and stood thirty feet away, the light staining her hair. She was watching as well, as they rushed across the causeway, her body growing dark as they drew away from the sentinel tower.
Before long, Casa Novak crept out of sight, as the causeway came into a forest. Leo felt a strange kind of relief. He realized he had barely been breathing as he watched Casa Novak. He took in a deep breath, and looked to his sister, who still stared out at the forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of the city lights between the massive tree trunks as they blurred by.
And since I asked for a critique I will critique some other people as well.
>>8045061
>the vengeful sound of the sea waves,
I like this line. Same with "messy trundle of a loss tear", dunno if you meant it to sound like "lost tear" from the words blurring together.
what's the deal with the capitalization here?
Overall, I like lines 1, 2, 3, 6, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, and the last one.
Could be decent song lyrics.
is that a pic of you in pic related? fuckin faggot
Pretty good poem overall though.
>>8044650
Not bad, I'd actualyl write out "critique" here, and put a comma before "you selfish fuck" just so it looks less run-on. The missing commas deal works sometimes, but not in this case. Overall, 6/10.
>>8042880
This is weird and good, has potentially multiple interpretations.
>>8042812
Guess what, bro? Big words do not make you a better writer. having a good vocabulary and knowing how to use the words in context frmo time to time is good, but cramming in SAT words is a shitty way to write.
I'll give you an example. A girl I know wrote some shit and said someone's passion for their hobby was "palpable." I read it and cringed HARD because I could tell it was thesaurus scanning shit. Palpable means, like, visible, but that is the wrong context to use it in. The word just feels wrong. Now, you can do this as a writer, but use words to evoke images, don't just shove shit from a thesaurus in there because you can.
Currently what is fucking up your writing is run-on sentences, like in the second paragraph, cut that shit up, cut some of that shit OUT. What doesn't need to be there can be discarded.
> The stress of it all drives me to unsavory thoughts. Many times I’ve considered giving up, or have made attempts, but I always give it another try once I’ve exhausted myself from my other temporary interests. Everybody has a calling in life, something that pulls them in and doesn’t let go, as if they were put here on this earth for the sole purpose of enacting it, mental stability be damned.
See, the first two sentences are good, but the second two run on, cut them down to the least amount of words that still get their point across. Remove as many comma phrases as possible. Sentences exist for a reason.
You are much less shit than you think.
>>8046692
Re OP: no solecisms, sorry.
>>8047099
"Depends" should be depend and there should be commas in the second to last sentence. Am I wrong?
>>8046918
Why do so few people on the internet seem to know what a run-on sentence actually is?
>>8047351
Was I wrong?
Just six friends in a car proceeding through the chicane wooded turns and discursive gravel roads of northern New England. On what’s sure to be a wild adventure! Each is seated hermetic, looking out from tinted windows to dust and nature not touching them by use of sunlight weakened from its harsher exterior glare. The irregularities of the road, the pockmarks, struts, animal corpses, and exposed patches of upraised rock, are mere momentary bobs to them, the cars suspension and handling excellent. They’re socioeconomic stratospheres are all upper, they make breathy exclamations at the rustic mountainous views discernible through sudden gaps in the thick foliage, like the sun tenuously peeking through thinner portions of castellated cloud front, they think to themselves. Their language extends like this. It wants itself an equal to the surroundings, for although each has in various camping trips and wildlife tours seen nature far more grandiose than this--than these particular undenuded rushes of trees coniferous and leafy flowing from mountains towering and visible as single colors and simple shapes many miles distant--they have never seen the nature as nature, as the standard to which man and manmade things must conform. And their thoughts become more simple like this. They emendate their gender-neutral pronouns into the older, almost truer phallocratic antecedents. They take and upload pictures into currents in the air threadbare, barely able even to convey wisps of data far simpler. messages, even phone calls are dropped.
>>8040477
I like it but it didn't really strike me as anything special.
>>8041115
Boring. I don't even really know what it's supposed to be either.
>>8046863
I would say you achieved your goal well while also being interesting. That said, I'm the worst at critiquing descriptions since I'm personally shit at them.
Here's my entry (just wrote this in a quick 30 minute so I apologize if there's some spelling, punctuation, grammar issues)
Docs Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1quonfucHKZLHk9yMt2lg3oqNKZ6A495yVJpswx9-BiA/edit?usp=sharing
Upon waking up you notice a clean cut across your wrists. You struggle to remember what caused it but you write it off as a mere accident among others during another night of inebriation. For some ungodly reason you are more lucid today, the stench of your ghastly apartment almost made you choke. You had let the bags of rubbish pile up again.
You quickly get off your bed and stacked the garbage bags on a corner of your room, you plan to take it out later. You wash your face and debate if this was a day for showering. It has been a few days but you reason that there is no immediate need for it. Drink water. Browse net. Piss on the sink. Browse net. Cigarette. Browse net. Grab cash in mail. Browse net. Read letter attached to cash. Browse net. Write a reminder to thank your mother. Browse net. It’s noon.
The small start of a headache reminds you to have a cigarette. You grab a pack and a light and crack open a window. Puff, blow, puff, blow, puff, blow. You couldn’t help but notice the wounded flesh on your wrist every time you bring your cigarette to your pursed lips. A flash of her face invades your thoughts. You dread the fact that it came this early today.
You close the window and head for the kitchen; you grab the last bottle of liquor. You curse silently at the air, threatening the not-present mailers to send you the alcohol tomorrow. You make your way to the bathroom and notice a warm bath readied. You had no recollection of starting a bath.
You sit down at the toilet and drink and drink and her face kept flashing before your eyes. You hate that memory. Her stare. That loving stare of a fucking bitch. That hug. Her fake fucking hug born from a responsibility to save whatever she can. And those three goddamn words. Words that flew from her mouth so loosely that you curse yourself for ever believing that they ever carried weight.
Your phone vibrates. You received a message. It read “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number.” Above it, a string of messages you had sent at the middle of last night. Above that, is her name. Your last connection with her has disappeared. Your wrist pulsed with ache.
>>8046863
It was really good,
>>8048705
Thank you. It's shit tbqh. After reading some Keats I've become even more aware of how bad it is. Eh, I struggle with metre. I suppose lots of practice and voracious reading of poetry will help me develop a better artistic sense.
I have to write an alternative ending for The Great Gatsby in English class (I am German) after chapter 7.
My idea so far
>Police comes to investigate
>Blame Gatsby
>Daisy feels sorry and takes the blame
>Tom is angry at Gatsby, kills him without thinking
>blames Wilson
>Nick inherits the legacy of the Great Gatsby
>Wants to better the corrupt society
>Watching the green light, gets call to continue illegal activities
>agrees
Any thoughts, improvisieren, critique? My first time to do stuff like that.
>>8047522
I hope this is a first draft.
He made himself the Devil's advocate. Somewhere in life the decision was made that standing in defense of the weaker or contrary position was the right thing to do, the feeling being no one else would bother. If someone asked how to justify hatred something in him would command he could make that argument, he had the pride to defend both goods and evils, that however doesn't mean he was a troll that wished for evil. The illusions here that he thought himself the martyr, that he can aspire to greatness and that’s what everyone else should do, that if he should name himself he would be called Jesus Christ the King. His belief that people who are deserving of love are those that hold themselves accountable for their sins. More than that people who are worthy of love have it in them to give and receive love. That’s not asking we chastise ourselves, only that we will see with both eyes and together let them point to greatness. And those who claim that Christ death was to save from sin stole the lesson to load it with their own means, possibly too for the benefit of their followers. But the illusion he fell most victim was that he alone could see with two eyes and that they were aligned to the see the truth.
“Who claim Jesus died to wash sin is who takes away our accountability and in doing so they take the liberty of our own judgement.”
If as he believed it to be, Jesus wasn't God, never claimed to be God, but that God could be found only in the reason, measure, and respect you find in living, his lesson was that we are alone in the universe and accountable only to ourselves, accountable for our own love, and that lesson will never be popular. His sermon goes.
1/3
>>8049880
“Jealousy was just the aggression showing and isolation was the sin, it has nothing to do with how man or woman was conceived. Man doesn't know what its like to be a woman; but man does know what it is like to be abused, and both know what its like to take the aggression of others at force because both are witness to it, however man does it repeatedly, if you subtract on repeated alms it eventually becomes hatred on who receives it in the shape of a hex, much worse its the impression that he is a trapper trying to prey on love. A story that was spoke from old times tells of a rabbi who watched two snails in love and there decided its wrongful to send love darts when darts aren't reciprocated, but even now men shoot love darts because mans imagination is so wild that he thinks they could be returned from the wound. Worrying isn't aggression that you give your love to another, that’s a reality men accept and let man be a hypocrite if he didn’t encourage it, it only stings that it wasn't his love and those two sins are not the same thing. If he were wanting of love what if it were possible he could be as happy or more so for his love finding their own, measured against the sadness of having no love at all.”
In his righteousness he paused to place his right hand in pocket and lifted the left in the shape of a cup.
“Everything we see are reflections in the eyes, so too we see our reflections bounced off of others, even if we could read thoughts most who would try only have capacity to see themselves and their own experiences reflected. And worse is man's arrogance in thinking he knew his loves thoughts and wants relying only on reflections without listening with his ears. But he could know too that there was desire and attempts at understanding, that effort at least for now isn't gone. If being alone is normality, let him still reach out, and he still see the light of day as people appear and reappear, he will know company in the opposites and shadows flickering and to know the differences between exceptions and rules. If you're wondering how he could love you, its always been for the time you had to give, its time that is the proof that you are charity and may he love you for it. Thoughts and words are hardly ever received unless convinced to be in the interest of love and I say now its fundamental truth.”
2/3
>>8049883
His sermon ended and like a martyr he was in the hopes that he was holy enough to be heard or let it be perhaps that love comes in the written word, even if what makes the mark are simple reflections of his image on the faces of those who make far more sense. And still later he dreamed of his love but not before solemn prayer that dreams are not whimsical or frivolous, as above his love was always in his thoughts and so below he saw love in his dreams. He arose the next morning and spoke the lessons he could take from it.
“I saw my love draped in vipers preaching to a chorus that venom is good, to my horror the only reaction was my lust. My love spoke, for me is only hatred because hatred is all that love received”
And of this parable I speculate, his imagination was so that he could have seen himself as a cross maker, a coin handling priest, or even Jesus Christ the son of God, but his imagination was only so because of his belief that he could be of good influence, that he could communicate change, that he aspired his reflections were worthy of real love and goodness to be invoked.
3/3
>>8039292
Please continue
>>8037434
Sounds nabkolian in the flow, not so much the imagery.
And your last line reminds me of a Buddhist line of thought. Is that where you got it from?
>http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an10/an10.048.than.html
Just a little bullshit that I wrote. It's incredibly bad and tacky but any feedback would help:
A distant light went out
And hope flew out through the open shutters
The errant gust of the wind
As the fire inside wanes and sputters
Now God dances on the mantle
His earnest, boyish tears streaming down his face
The blood and the sweat coalescing
As he shivers and trembles gently in place
The still breath of the night
And the lonely unguided ships at sea
Given comfort only by
The stars that descend to the tops of trees
A distant light has gone out
And the sky seems much bigger than it once was
The great glow no longer shines through the air
Je suis un ame solitaire
Meant to be lyrics but I'm thinking of using a line or two for a short story. Anything salvageable?
>>8048705
Balance out your fragments a bit more with longer strands, or else that halting rhythm loses its effect
Still, has potential
>>8046863
It's a bit up to the brim with adjectives, but once it's trimmed up a little it could potentially be very good
The hunter fell into a dream where he had a reason to smile. He was warm and his clothes pristine; a perfect fit. He felt a soft kiss on his cheek, followed by a coy laughter. He looked to his left seeing a woman gazing amorously at him. She was young and beautiful. He could almost feel her soft, milky skin in his hand, her pink lips on his freshly shaven face. To his right a young child held onto his leg, staring out into the vastness of the ocean with no shoreline in sight. He patted the child on the head and ruffled its hair. He wasn’t sure if the child was a boy or a girl—that is to say he gave it no mind. He stood at the bow of a grand ship, a hundred others reclined on colourful chairs behind him, a sea of featureless faces. He could hear the ocean’s waves rolling far below him. He could hear the seagulls perched on the bow’s railing and those circling above.
In an instant he was in a lavish banquet hall, delicate crystal chandeliers hung overhead. Faintly, he heard a jazz quartet playing in the background, but his only company was the woman whose hand he held at the front of the cruiser. She wore a draping navy silk gown. It held a dull sheen in the orange glow from above. He took her hand once more and pulled her into a tender embrace. Together they slowly swayed and stepped in harmony. He looked down to see her head resting on his chest. Her black hair flowed in waves down her back and over her shoulders. She looked up to meet his eyes. Hers were strikingly blue.
He read her lips, “I love you,” but her voice escaped him, as if deafened to nothing but those words.
give me a cheese rating 0-10 here boys
>>8049977
Thanks, I hadn't even considered the rhythm. Should be helpful in revision.
excerpt from a story i'm writing about the adventures of john green
visne me humbert aut iohannes appellasse - asked john a look most spooked on his face - forsooth - he continued - if you want the former, please come youngo - cereal was on his mind - pour your milk if you dig | else get out of the breakfast isle please. the girl looked at john | a spooked man she did see | and walked towards him.
I'd like to post a link to a google doc, but not sure if that would be cool.
It's a short story based around one of the main characters for the novel I finished a few weeks ago. Basically since I'm an unknown writer I'm trying to make a few short stories set around the same character to get my name out there.
>>8051142
Places this here.
