Post the introductory paragraph to the novel you're currently working on.
>>8040208
You first.
The fat neckbeard giggled to himself and hit Enter. Electronic impulses flowed from his keyboard and out through the air and connected to the internet. The small text he had written now flooded the screens of the entire population of /lit/. All five of them furrowed their brows. Tony and Mark the gay lovers (who by themselves made up 40% of the content on the literature sub4chan) pulled away from each other in their haste to see what had come up. The text was written in big grey letters that overlapped the small pictures of frogs on their dusty laptop screen. It read:
>implying you'll ever get laid because you read books
Tony gently bit Tony's earlobe. He was horny and masturbation didn't cut it anymore, but Tony was having a bad case of butthole disease and their rowdy ruddy romps on the red futon now only incorporated kissing and nipple twisting. "I should be reading" Tony thought.
>>8040208
[character name] was [verbing] the [object] when [other character][description of event]
[dialouge][other character] said.
>>8040233
>verbing
>>8040227
hahahahahh 10/10 post
>>8040238
gerunding, then.
>>8040239
You're not being sincere with me are you?
>>8040224
I ain't scared...
It was the first day of many, Simon Buckly stepped feveriously onto the rotting gang plank cautionally placing on foot in front of the other.
He had with him only a ,smaller, pocket full of change and his fathers pocket watch than hung loosely from his waistpocket. He hopped onto dck half expecting the planks to break underoot and for him to be sucked down into the belly of the ship.
The crew were all double his size and triple his strength, the were coated in exotic tattos and scars. The captain was heard just below deck, berating the crew for ome act of mmundane play. Simon scurred towards the hatch, it was old rotting and attached by a rusted copper bolt and handle. As hhe dropped down to undo he bolt a giant,wet, claw clamped down on his shoulders and jolted him away.
Thrown with such force Simon was proppeled bckwards and left rocking back and forth on his ass. The sun blocked he mysterious assault from view but he mwas making a hearty and mocking laugh towards the floored Simon.
"Well, why did you do that"? He asked, pushing himself off with one hand and steadly curling his other into a fist. He was pushed down by the mysterious figure and felt the floor reach up and cushion his head from the wooden impact.
The giant mountain of a man lunged forward over the
>>8040208
>>"Ouch!" I exclaimed as the mouse >>trap crushed down on my penus and >>one nut.
>>8040283
> He had with him only a ,smaller, pocket full of change pocket full of change and his fathers pocket watch than hung loosely from his waistpocket
>pocketpcoketpocket
Dude, try to change the line, use synonims
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
—Introibo ad altare Dei.
Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:
—Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!
Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
>>8042079
Fucking garbage.
>>8042079
>Stephen Dedalus.
Nice self-insert, faggot. Is he also a wannabe artist like you?
>>8040208
Past the flannel plains and blacktop graphs and skylines of canted rust, and past the tobacco-brown river overhung with weeping trees and coins of sunlight through them on the water downriver, to the place beyond the windbreak, where untilled fields simmer shrilly in the A.M. heat: shattercane, lamb's-quarter, cutgrass, sawbrier, nutgrass, jimsonwee, wild mint, dandelion, foxtail, muscadine, spine-cabbage, goldenrod, creeping Charlie, butter-print, nightshade, ragweed, wild oat, vetch, butcher grass, invaginate volunteer beans, all heads gently nodding in a morning breeze like a mother's soft hand on your cheek. An arrow of starlings fired from the windbreak's thatch. The glitter of dew that stays where it is and steams all day. A sunflower, four more, one bowed, and horses in the distance standing rigid and still as toys. All nodding. Electric sounds of insects at their business. Ale-colored sunshine and pale sky and whorls of cirrus so high they cast no shadow. Insects all business all the time. Quartz and chert and schist and chondrite iron scabs in granite. Very old land. Look around you. The horizon trembling, shapeless. We are all of us brothers.
>>8040283
>his father's pocket watch
Quentin Compson reporting in.
>feveriously
Joycean at best
>the mysterious assault
And now we're in Disneyland; the seaman's life as recalled in Pinocchio.
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.
A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. The green earflaps, full of large ears and uncut hair and the fine bristles that grew in the ears themselves, stuck out on either side like turn signals indicating two directions at once. Full, pursed lips protruded beneath the bushy black moustache and, at their corners, sank into little folds filled with disapproval and potato chip crumbs. In the shadow under the green visor of the cap Ignatius J. Reilly’s supercilious blue and yellow eyes looked down upon the other people waiting under the clock at the D.H. Holmes department store, studying the crowd of people for signs of bad taste in dress. Several of the outfits, Ignatius noticed, were new enough and expensive enough to be properly considered offenses against taste and decency. Possession of anything new or expensive only reflected a person’s lack of theology and geometry; it could even cast doubts upon one’s soul.
I was born in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn in 1916 to a Sicilian immigrant mother and an American-born metalworker father. Poverty wasn’t an option in Benson; it was an affliction that affected us all, and a nasty one at that. Mothers threw weak children whom they couldn’t feed into the streets as if they were crippled mutts; the children who were unable to find some source of sustenance became pariahs, ostracized by families who wept arid and malnourished tears, were slowly driven mad by hunger pangs, and set out on heathenous missions, stripping bare the bones of stray dogs and robbing the old and weary. Not being ignorant to the fate awaiting me should I be unable to provide for myself, I began, at the age of 5, to shoplift bread from a bakery no more than a few blocks from my family’s apartment on 72nd street. By the time I was thirteen, I had formed a gang of thieves with 3 of my closest friends—Joey, Al, and Barry—we committed petty crimes for the sake of feeding ourselves. It was only a matter of time before the crimes grew more than just robbing bread from closed-down shops. Joey’s father was a drunk, and so, as Joey reasoned that he didn’t need it anymore, Joey swiped his gun from him; the old man never noticed. As the degree of our crimes increased, so did our hunger.
>>8043996
>I was born in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn in 1916 to a Sicilian immigrant mother and an American-born metalworker father. Poverty wasn’t an option in Benson; it was an affliction that affected us all, and a nasty one at that. Mothers threw weak children whom they couldn’t feed into the streets as if they were crippled mutts;
sometimes rich white male guys walked our streets and fed those children, crawling under their feet, with bread crumbs like you would feed a flock of doves or sea gulls, and sometimes they kicked them helping them to die faster; both of those were a significant relief to the fate of the children but we still hated them. i think we were ungrateful
:3
>>8040208
FORTH
The keel shaft is being used as a storehouse for plunder that the enemy ship has taken. Your men are forced to take cover behind paintings and beneath quivering reams of hanging jewelry. The bullets send curls of shorn gold twirling across carpets of purple wool soaked through with blood in places. x foes are slain in the shimmering darkness, some of whom have split pockets pouring gold coins and gems or wear dozens of gold chains stained and shattered around their necks. [officername] orders your men through the cargo bay, where gunmen lurk between crate-towers of pressed oats and soft drinks. Gunfire sends clouds of flour billowing over the combatants turning blood to paste. Boots peel from the floor where fighters take cover in pools of soda. Grain disgorges in whispering avalanches from bags slit by bullets and your men struggle forward knee-deep through the floes. Your men divide up into small bands and wreak havoc in every branch of the ship on their way to the bridge. In the galley fighting takes place in the freezer room between hanging and skinned bovines that sway as bullets smack ricocheting between them and hot breath betrays those hidden behind. Your men fight through the brig as cheering prisoners shake the bars and scream insults at the gunmen.
Somewhere, on a hidden beach with pristine sands rung by impossibly tall cliffs, Elizabeth found herself calmer than she’d ever been. She walked along the shoreline, the water shimmering in iridescent hues, towards a figure on a boulder that jutted out into the sea. Surely they were the only other person around for miles, Elizabeth thought to herself, and that somehow seemed comforting in the moment. The clouds in the sky moved erratically – speeding, slowing, and switching direction altogether – in a dizzying dance.
Elizabeth fought back the slight nausea in her stomach, and soon the figure in the distance began to take shape. It was a woman in a dress as black as the night sky, with hair falling in loose, bouncy waves all around her. The woman seemed lost in thought staring out into the sea, and the closer Elizabeth came, the more intense her feeling of inner peace became. A warm fog draped her mind, muting her inner dialogue, until there was no room left in her thoughts save for the woman on the rock.
Elizabeth was only a few steps away when the woman turned towards her. Electricity shot down her spine, and her body froze in place. Those eyes… They sparked like the water, seemingly all colors at once, and shone radiantly. Elizabeth’s eyelids drooped involuntarily, but with all her willpower she held them open, if only just to stare into those eyes for a moment longer. The woman smiled warmly, and that warmth spread across Elizabeth’s body.
She mouthed something Elizabeth could not hear over the sound of a wave crashing against the shore, and just like that, Elizabeth snapped awake in her bed.
>>8040208
Today OP was a faggot, as a matter of fact OP has been a faggot since the beginning of time.
>>8040208
>In an effort to combat the rampant incidence of Psychic Terrorism and Psychic Killing in the Psychic programs, the United Nations Counter-Psychic Committee decided, in the year 2045, to instigate a rigorous program aptly name Relocation. The main objective of this program was to separate all psychic of legal age from mainstream society. The second objective of the program was to monitor them and determine the reasoning for their violent behavior.
Wondering if I should Change Psychic Terrorism into Bio Terrorism
>>8044573
you write terribly. also shin sekai yori was a bad anime
>>8044599
>shin sekai yori
Elaborate?
>you write terribly
Its just the prologue I was thinking to myself if I really need it.
No one tells you the thing you love most is going to kill you. Racing a nuclear fusion-powered hovercraft isn’t the safest line of work. Not for someone wanting to die of old age, anyway. Adding a pack of thirty more racers to the high speed mix doesn't help your chances either. What could be more ludicrous than that? Having that same hovercraft you’re piloting catch fire.
i am no evil nor do i see it
i long for telephone calls
where the humming mimmicks your voice
and all the echoes cost 25 cents
all pennies well spent
but tomorrow's wont be
I've been working this spot selling crawfish out of the truck going on three summers now. This'll be the fourth. I'm the only crawfish truck by the water to my knowledge. There are two others here not including the ice cream truck. There's a King Burgers & Hotdogs truck and a Ming's Noodle truck. The ice cream guy does a sort of circuit and sits at all the lakeside schools in a strategic order. I think it's different every weekday. But on a normal day the other trucks and I are usually here about 12pm til the sun goes down.
There's not a ton of money in Toronto for food trucks but I do alright. The first summer down here was my first summer with the truck and I did really well. It's probably why I'm going on my fourth summer out here. Truth is I haven't done nearly as well since, not even close. King and Ming only showed up two summers ago. There weren't any food trucks here my first year out, they just couldn't keep up. I had to hire this redhead kid JT full time to give me a hand. We'd Pick up all our craw at the Seaway Core Depot in North York on the daily. In the weeds every weekday, just making it happen. Man, let me tell you, it can get fucking hot in that truck. But it's actually not nearly as bad as some of the other kitchens I've worked at. Good days there's a nice breeze coming off the lake and through the service window, and so far it's been pretty good.
>>8042149
this is the beginning of The Pale King
>>8045313
Like I said, "vapid posturing"
Heck, i'll give it a go. Here's one of several possible openers. It's a little heavy on the sci-fi, but it gives it a glossy feel.
The view from the elevator is truly spectacular. A coat of neon orange glazed the top of the radial display, evidence that we were breaking atmosphere. The exterior of the thing was running hotter than any other human creation at that altitude, give or take twenty miles. I put my face up to the glass to fill as much of my vision as I could with the shrinking Earth. The polymer on the interior sucked all the heat away from my nose and forehead, dispersing it. I had forgotten that it was a screen, that we were behind a thick lattice of carbon and graphene, but I remembered then. I got very cold.
>>8045331
>tense change right at the beginning
BRO
>>8040208
Its called "Lima Nights" (dark humor/ satire/ sex)
Im writing it in spanish, so here is the translation.
Had you ever had one of those where you ask yourself: How the fuck did I end up here?
I am not talking about those days where you wake up soaked in your own puke on the decaying bathroom of some less than zero stars hotel and you look into the room and see the shape of a girl lying in the bed sheets and you pray to some god that either she is alive or at least she is a complete girl. Thailand is such a lovely place.
Anyway, no. I am talking about those days where you wake up after having the most amazing sex with an absolute bimbo only to find out you are being dragged to the 50th floor of your own hotel, beaten up to the point that you wonder how the hell did a truck hit me while I was sleeping, and tied to a chair by two Russians that speak in grunts. Or at least I believe they are Russians. Both of them look like Ivan Drago on steroids.
>>8045367
It's entirely cliché-ridden.
>>8045367
*record scratch* Had you ever had one of those where you ask yourself: How the fuck did I end up here?
>>8045392
Its a book people can read in the bathroom and not feel bad if it falls on the toilet.
Dude, I don't want the nobel.
>>8043979
Confederacy of Dunces is shit, faggot.
I want to kill 100 hundred people. More even. I want to become the Murder World Champion. I am a natural born killer. Born to kill. I want to go to a place that is packed full of people, and I want to shoot a line at hip height with automatic machine guns. I want to cut them all in half using a Browning M2 .50 calibre heavy machine gun, set to pivot on a bipod as I sweep them up into my metal storm. I wish I had a pair of Ingram MAC-11's to aim out of each of the front windows of a car, then I could cut down pedestrians on either side of a straight road. I want to make all the people I meet into mince meat. Man mince. No one wants to eat man mince though, unless they're really messed up. You'd have to be an actual insane crazy person to even try it once. If you eat man mince then there is something seriously fucked up about you. You're probably fucked in the head.
>>8045436
I hope this isn't real
A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.
It is too late. The Evacuation still proceeds, but it's all theatre. There are no lights inside the cars. No light anywhere. Above him lift girders old as an iron queen, and glass somewhere far above that would let the light of day through. But it's night. He's afraid of the way the glass will fall -- soon -- it will be a spectacle: the fall of a crystal palace. But coming down in total blackout, without one glint of light, only great invisible crashing.
>>8045436
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vds3azJeuEI
>>8045417
bizarre non-sequitur, that's my novel i'm working on
>>8046048
don't kill yourself john!
I had first traveled to London one year ago. The world had
been swept up in the Bohemian Revolution. And I traveled from London to be
a part of it. On a hill near Paris was the village of Montmartre. It was
not like my father had said. It was the center of the Bohemian world with musicians,
painters, and writers. They were known as the "Children of the
Revolution." Yes, I had come to live a penniless existance. I had come to
write about truth, beauty, freedom and at which I believe in above all
things . . . Love. Of course there was only one problem, I've never been in
love. Luckily, right at that moment an unconscious Argentinean fell
through my roof. He was quickly joined by a dwarf dressed as a nun.
He laughed, black insect laughter that seemed to serve some obscure function of orientation like a bat's squeak. The Sailor laughed three times. He stopped laughing and hung there motionless listening down into himself. He had picked up the silent frequency of junk. His face smoothed out like yellow wax over the high cheek-bones. He waited half a cigarette. The Sailor knew how to wait. But his eyes burned in a hideous dry hunger. He turned his face of controlled emergency in a slow half pivot to case the man who had just come in.
>>8047237
This reads like a bad knock knock joke.
>>8040227
Well done
>>8047307
Not bad. I would read more.
>>8045436
>I wish I had a pair of Ingram MAC-11's to aim out of each of the front windows of a car, then I could cut down pedestrians on either side of a straight road.
driving with your knees
Mom's life had been unspeakably cruel. I can't say how.
>>8048324
no shit you can't say how, it was unspeakably cruel.
Jacque Derridab and Michel Fousmauck were outside in Karl Sparx's backyard, toking a bong, gently resting in the hammock where nebulous space meshed with the materiality of the rope. Capital and labor intertwining, heads resting on the product of the differance that is the netted prison-wire sexuality, caught between two tree-prisons
Allow me to play double advocate here for a moment. For all intensive purposes I think you are all wrong. In an age where false morals are a diamond dozen, true virtues are a blessing in the skies. We often put our false morality on a petal stool like a bunch of pre-Madonnas, but you all seem to be taking something very valuable for granite. So I ask of you to mustard up all the strength you can because it is a doggy dog world out there. Although there is some merit to what you are saying it seems like you have a huge ship on your shoulder. In your argument you seem to throw everything in but the kids Nsync, and even though you are having a feel day with this I am here to bring you back into reality. I have a sick sense when it comes to these types of things. It is almost spooky, because I cannot turn a blonde eye to these glaring flaws in your rhetoric. I have zero taller ants when it comes to people spouting out hate in the name of moral righteousness. You just need to remember what comes around is all around, and when supply and command fails you will be the first to go.
Make my words, when you get down to brass stacks it doesn't take rocket appliances to get two birds stoned at once. It's clear who makes the pants in this relationship, and sometimes you just have to swallow your prize and accept the facts, instead of making a half-harded effort. You might have to come to this conclusion through denial and error but I swear on my mother's mating name that when you put the petal to the medal you will pass with flying carpets like its a peach of cake.
>>8045367
i like it, made me chuckle
>>8046048
silly cunt
>>8048515
>In your argument you seem to throw everything in but the kids Nsync
what the fuck
>>8042022
going out of your way to find bigger words that mean the same thing because that's what they told you to do in school.
>>8048660
Not him but he is obviously correct. You don't need to substitute the word. Simply do the sentence gooder.
>He had with him only some change and his father's pocket watch that hung loosely on his hip.
i started typing out shit on my phone in my free time while in military duty. No lit experience whatsoever so please give me some feedback. Writing a little story about a guy stuck in a mansion that starts fucking with him. I wanted his intro to be descriptive of the interior of the mansions but uncertain of his own personal decriptions. Started the draft yesterday, so ignore the side notes, grammar and shit unless thats a part of the problem.
A lone man stirs into consciousness. His hands finding form to raise his weary body from the hard cold wooden floor. His throat dry, his body stiff@, and his mind muddled, he strained@ his hazy eyes to focus at whatever they first fell upon. His eyes confirmed what his hands deliberated@. A perfect lacquered wooden floor, surely not his own. The thought of himself a wealthy man was foreign enough, let alone being in a building that could warrant such luxury. His eyes slowly strained away the last of its fog(blur), and confirmed again another sluggish hypothesis(should expand or cut this?). Walls, upon them paintings of majestic landscapes, and portraits of men hung above as if to say that they are its conquerers. In front of him, while still on his hands and knees, a grand staircase that split away into either sides of the upper balconies. Above him, a chandelier many times his own size hung so still, he could hardly believe@ it was there. No matter where he looked, our dazed, confused, tired beholder could not find any sense of familiarity within this room. Our beholder pushed himself to his feet, a duty as strenuous as any other. Recollection eluded him. He had no memory of this room nor of how he could have come here, no recollection of today nor the day before. His worry struck him when he realised, not only was his immediate hours a blur, all else was as well. The weeks into the season, the colour of his eyes, faces of his kin, his very own name. The spinning in his head returned as he toiled to remember all that was lost to him, to no avail. Through the corner of his eye, the noticed what should have been obvious. Behind him stood twin doors, the front entrance most likely judging from the windows flanking each side.
>>8048671
no he wasn't correct because he didn't suggest changing the sentence structure he suggested using synonyms which is wrong
>>8048833
Ok well I'm still right then. I'm fine with that. Nice double doubles btw.
Stately, fatass Buck Mulligan came waddlin' on the stairs, big ass bowl in his hans wit shavin shit in it. A pussy ass bathrobe or sum shit was fluttrin round by the windo. Fattie picked up the bowl:
-- Blah blah some pig latin gay shit.
Then the fatass lookin down da stairs, yells again:
-- Come up bitch! Come up you pussy ass faggot!
Lardass walked to a railin. Be dancin aroun in a circle like jesus. He spies the nigga Deadlis and throws up some gang signs. Deadlis ty'yad as fuck an looks up at the fatass thinkin why da fuk dis horse-faced bitch be screamin bout jesus 8 in the morn'? It aint even ihop day
>>8040208
Waking up can be a difficult thing to do, especially when you just force your eyes to stay shut, begging to not be awake, begging to go back to blissful, serene nothingness, and stay in that state. But no matter how strongly I willed it, I could not will my consciousness away. The day's light had begun to pierce through the dark blanket covering my window, and I could no longer ignore the scratching and tickling of the cockroaches, as they crawled over my bare skin, tripping themselves over leg, back, and pubic hair.
>>8048882
Where'd you get my autobiography?
>>8048889
It's my autobiography. Literally no one will ever give a damn enough about me to read about me but I write anyways
I slice deep across my thigh and watch fat bubble out from the cut, like pieces of corn, wondering how I'm going to eat this. I should have never gone to that cemetery.
>>8048847
10/10
I wrote this in High school. Should I get back to writing?
I don’t understand this assignment. I don’t. I mean, I understand why other people would understand it, but I don’t understand it myself, and I really don’t like these types of assignments. I personally do not like to expose my personal life too much, even my very best friends rarely know what is happening in my life or anything, I guess, “bad that has happened” to me, and it’s not that I’m afraid of judgement because I’m really not, I just do not see the point in getting up and saying “oh by the way mate, one time this horrible thing happened” and then being left with the response “Jesus Christ how horrifying”. Everytime we get these assignments they seem to say to me “get up and dance monkey”, and I know that’s not what this is about but it sure as hell feels like it. I’m sorry, I’m jumping around a lot in thought so if you’re not following I understand, I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. Back to dislikement, the absolute worst thing about these assignments is that even though it feels like they were meant to help us understand one each other more, sympathize with our fellow classmates more, every single time, and this is just the absolute worst, I end up just despising my fellow classmates. I do, most of your guys’ thought processes are absolutely revolting to me. I try so hard to like people and then you get a glimpse of how they act, think, behave and all that work is mowed to the ground. It’s not that I think I’m better than everyone, I really don’t, but I certainly hope people are better than me. Of course, if you have an opinion, you have think it’s better than others or else you wouldn’t have that opinion now would you? That’s the thing no one seems to understand, of course I think my opinions are better than yours and you think your opinions are better than mine, otherwise they wouldn’t be opinions. Everyone’s a hypocrite, and you know what I’m sick of? I am so sick of human beings being so caught up in identity, especially racial identity. Since the beginning of time human beings pulled the race card out on every single thing they do, and the whole concept of racial ideology is completely made up by the human mind, and that applies to goddamn near every identity out there. It’s all a lie, but I understand why it’s made such a big deal. People want to put boxes around everything, it’s only a human thing to do, we like constructs so we label absolutely everything, even if we don’t understand what we’re labeling, and no matter how many layers of construction we put on each other, it all doesn’t matter because we made up every single bit of it. Maybe that’s a hard pill for people to try and swallow because we’re so attached to our identities, our labels, they comfort us and make us feel smart, like we can understand something. Maybe I’m just not good at being human.
>>8048936
I am amazing at acting human though, it’s so easy when you understand the way people work, and maybe I can’t empathize for people but I can surely sympathize for them. I mean, I don’t understand people’s feelings, but I can understand why they feel that way and that’s what makes me so good at taking care of the problem. Then people call me things like brave or strong when I’m really not, I just don’t understand how bad the situation is until maybe much, much later when everyone else is finally gathering their wits together and I am just starting to lose mine, realizing what has happened. Sometimes it takes a month, sometimes a year, sometimes years before I realize something was terribly, terribly wrong. I mean, I understood it was wrong before, but only now am I feeling the actual mental, emotional affects of it. What a curious delayed reaction, wouldn’t you think? Of course though, you wouldn’t know this about this me had I not told you, like I said I am very good at acting human, and I most certainly appear upset in the heat of upsetting situations because I don’t want people to think I don’t care that whatever happened did. I do care, I just don’t have mental or emotional attachment to it yet. Yes by now I have figured out that this is not mentally healthy behavior, I do indeed know there is something very wrong with me but at the same time, if I didn’t have this who else would be competent enough to take care of everyone else in that moment of danger and frustration? Isn’t it quite a blessing in that sense. I probably sound awfully high in thought about myself, which I won’t lie, sometimes I am, but I also recognize how much I rely on others. It makes me feel awful when that mental break down finally hits me and then there is nothing wrong around me, no reason for anxiety or depression, and yet I lie there lazily, angry at the world while everyone else has to take care of me, and nothing even went wrong. Then the reactions are more or less confused and angry at why I am mad at nothing, but whatever one will think what one will think. I certainly hope I do remain anonymous though, I can only imagine hearing this all out loud and thinking what a bunch of garbage. It’s funny though, I usually get confused for a specific other person, isn’t that interesting? Haha wow, I really went all out on this thing didn't I? I really do love it here, it’s more of a home to me than many people understand. Isn’t it the strangest feeling to be anything at all?
>>8048941
sounds like the final monologue of an alternative teen movie about losing a loved one and bottling it up for years until one friend makes the protagonist realize how much shit everyone else has to deal with too and they realize they can finally just open up and be themselves.
>>8048967
You're pretty much spot on, thanks
"Alright my life is all fucked up" a man thought. "What I need is a unilateral transfiguration of all my ideals, I needn't even accept it on good faith. I need to find a new outlook immediately and I'll be damned if I let even another 45 minutes of vacillation slip by." His left hand, now impelled by its master's non-negotiable timetable journeyed out into the pitch. Intrepid and resolute, the factotum passed into the even deeper black occupying the space under the bedside table, tethered only to a sinewy arm. It gracefully landed upon its target before being unceremoniously reeled in by the impatient god. "Ah here we go" a thunder sounded and the hand was tasked to flick on the lamp, an action, which had it been performed beforehand would have surely made the former sound all the less perilous. Was it a test? No matter, having now recovered a book, he glanced at the cover "Kurt VONNEGUT, TIMEQUAKE". "Fucking Kurt Vonnegut Again." he exclaimed at the top of his voice as he taciturned the pages of his first Kurt Vonnegut novel in outraged reflection. Another matter that made things worse perhaps was that the right hand had been granted the honor of holding the book for reading, while the left had been quite deliberately tucked into the waist of his pants and also his crotch. Oh well, righty had always been a favorite. No matter. "I fucking hate Kurt Vonnegut" he thought, because he wasn't really quite certain as his prepossessions about the writer had largely been informed by internet invective. That said, he was aware that Vonnegut and Kilgore Trout were one and the same and therefore he actually had all the information he needed to make an informed decision.
>>8049035
It's hard to tell what's going on, it feels to chaotic and that can wear readers out to quickly. I would've shut the book and moved on but some people more open minded would read on.
>>8049056
>it feels to chaotic and that can wear readers out to quickly
Where do you think you are?
This is presented as a work of fiction. Most of the memories have changed somehow, as memories do. There’s no presenting them as fact now. They sink and dissolve into memories collected since. I am certain that I went on holiday to Croatia with my friends, plus a few others I didn’t know. There were 13 of us, all male. One of us was getting married. He is married now. I am not certain if we threw up repeatedly into the sea. I am not certain if I saw a swallow foetus smeared across the floor of our balcony between the two crushed halves of its egg. I’d like to believe I had a terrible time, but looking back I think I enjoyed myself.
>>8049035
fucking hell put the thesaurus down.
>>8045172
disgusting YA tier shit
The hum of air travel is unmistakable. I have never been sure whether it was the sound of the pressurized air system, the engines, or some combination of the two. It's this dull inimitable throb that so quickly settles into the background like only permanent hearing damage knows how to do. I listen to it and try to prevent it from fading away from notice. I hold on for as long as I can and it bothers me when I realize I've forgotten to listen and can no longer pick it out from the noises of the cabin.
>>8049205
fine but it doesn't really say anything
>>8040227
>The small text he had written now flooded the screens of the entire population of /lit/. All five of them furrowed their brows.
>Tony gently bit Tony's earlobe.
I don't know WHAT kind of writing is this but oh my fucking god my sides hurt
>>8040227
>All five of them furrowed their brows.
>Tony gently bit Tony's earlobe.
A true másterpiecé!
>>8049213
I intend to introduce the immediate setting and foreshadow the feelings of careless loss to come.
The city he lived in was hell, not that it had always been hell, but in the recent years the hellish qualities of the place had creeped up on him until it finally dawned on him; he didn’t know whether it was the alarming regularity of the smoke towers and cooling chimneys that surrounded him, or whether it was how monochromatic the world had seemed to become in the last 15 or so years, what was once vibrant and colourful now gave way to bleak greys and blacks. Even the people had become more regular in their behaviour; crowds formed at the same times during the day, and dissipated together at once. What woke him up to these facts happened a little while ago, a piece of paper that had been screwed up was rolling its way along the pavement and interrupted his walk when it got blown across the road and bumped into his shoe. For some reason he felt compelled to open the paper and upon unfurling it he realised he had come across a picture from an old magazine, it was the centrefold from a travel section in the magazine, showing a woman lay on golden sands, basking in the salmon sun at evening time. It was then that he realised he had not seen the great yellow sun in a very long time.
>>8048592
kitchen sink
>>8040283
>comma splice in your first fucking sentence
Quit while you're ahead. Maybe try painting or something.
A husky wheeze croaked from the nearly insatiable gullet of one particularly addled customer. "4 Big... Macs..." His attire was nothing short of a reflection of the times we now tread through, with a benign shirt of a scarlet coloring that clung to the upper-half of his blubber slapped physique and a pair of frankly uncompromising cargo shorts that strained his blubber enough to result sloping stretch marks. His order was recieved in full. Following that embarrassingly scant order and a flick of the wrist that tore the recipt out of its dispenser for easy handling, a mousy voice rose from the cracked lips of the cashier stationed firmly behind the counter. "Here you go." Embedded, tunneled pupils dragging against the surface of the eye to catch a feasible view, the bipedal locomotive of lard and a stressed skeletal system swung a nearly malleable leg against the floor. What it didn't expect however was.... Chad to come storming into the fast-food outlet!
So this is what being /lit/ means.
>>8043996
bumperino
>>8044312
Okay, anon, I'll be honest. I like your writing style but please fucking change your opening. There is nothing I hate more than dream openings. It's overdone and cliche and tiring.
>>8049174
I never use a thesaurus. I just don't have a very good audience filter but I can assure you these are all the words that came to mind.
>>8050156
>I never use a thesaurus
Oh, so you're just stupid then.
>>8044312
>black as the night sky
How could you willfully keep it like this?
Now that rolling his eyes hurt he realized how often he did it. He massaged them but it didn't help, so he lost his reflex for whenever he didn't want to look at something. And then as he thought about it lying awake, he understood that his eyes were still open, just with eyelids covering them, and that he couldn't stop looking. He'd been turning a shower handle his whole life, and now he was panicking because he ran out of clockwise space to make it hotter, but he was still cold. Where was he supposed to escape to now?
Actually it's a short story, translated from French, but who cares
A cold wind brings the sea spray. From afar, I can see Jersey, shy island appearing barely emerged from the water. A old saying from Normandy says that Jersay brings rain, and according to the weather announcement, it will held truth today. It's 8 am, and I'm thinking about Australia.
>>8043996
I rewrote it for you:
I was born in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn in 1916 to a Sicilian immigrant mother and an American-born metalworker father. Poverty wasn’t an option in Benson: it was a universal affliction, and a nasty one at that. Mothers threw weak unfed children into the streets as if they were crippled mutts, the mutts in turn becoming pariahs, ostracized by families who wept arid and malnourished tears, setting out, in the somnambulant stupor of hunger, on heathenous missions to strip bare the bones of stray dogs and pockets of the old and weary. (Your welcome, this sentence is now dope as fuck) Aware of the alternative, I began, at the age of 5, to shoplift bread from a bakery no more than a few blocks from my family’s apartment on 72nd street. By the time I was thirteen, I had formed a gang of thieves with 3 of my closest friends—Joey, Al, and Barry—and we together committed petty crimes for the sake of feeding ourselves. Though, it was only a matter of time before the crimes grew past the petty robbing of bread from closed-down shops.
Joey’s father was a drunk, and so, as Joey reasoned that he didn’t need it anymore, Joey swiped his gun from him; the old man never noticed. (This part is shit, but I don’t feel like rewriting it atm)
Though as the degree of our crimes increased, so did our hunger.
>>8050231
Poverty wasn’t an option in Benson. Mothers threw unfed children in the streets. I shoplifted bread from a bakery a few blocks from my family's apartment on 72nd Street. By 13 me, Joey, Al, and Barry were in a gang and fed ourselves that way. Our crimes got worse and we got hungrier.
>>8050192
So do I use a thesaurus or no? What do you people want! I probably don't need a thesaurus because I actually read books.
>>8049035
this feels like a jumble of random ideas meant to be funny and clever. Okay I wont lie, I laughed a couple times but what is the point? Why are his hands being treated like separate characters? Why do I care?
>>8050385
>but what is the point
Jesus christ, I thought it was just a meme that all of /lit/ was like this.
Someone has something to say about >>8050225 ?
>>8048515
those last sentences got me gigglin'
>mother's mating name
>>>>8048515
this comes off as a bit pretentious, I don't know if that's what you were aiming for or not. Also were the typos in the last sentence intentional?
Mine
The tires of the bus rattled beneath me, shaking my legs like sugared-up children on a Sunday afternoon. I sat there, surrounded by people just like me: young, white, confident men with crew-cut hair and wild excitement shamelessly advertised on their faces. I was ready. I’m finally going to fulfill my destiny, I thought, bouncing my thin, veiny fists on the meat of my thighs. A few people talked with one another, but for the most part the bus was silent; the quiet hum of the engine filled the stale air. The ride took hours, but I slept through most of it, so when we pulled up to the large gates, darker and more menacing than the souls of evil men who loomed in the shadows, manipulating the marionette-strings of the feeble-minded, I was briefly startled, I couldn’t believe that we were already there: Great Lakes, Illinois—boot camp.
The pitter-patter of raindrops assaulted the roof of the bus as the man dressed head-to-toe in camouflage, colored the same as the deepest crevices of the ocean, stood up and began to hurl words at us with his thundering voice. “Hello boys, my name’s Petty Officer 1st Class Rowland. You’ll refer to me as Petty Officer: not ‘Sir’, not ‘Mr. Rowland’, Petty Officer. P-E-T-T-Y-O-F-F-I-C-E-R, got it? Now… welcome to the worst eight weeks of your lives.”
>>8050441
This is definitely bait
Out of the Past was the name of the store and its products consisted of memories. What was prosaic and even vulgar to one generation had been transmuted by the mere passing of years to a status at once magical and also camp.
>>8050543
Did my opening lines really get to you that strongly?
>>8050543
What can I say ? I like simplicity.
>>8050584
I actually did know that, I was pretty bummed that she didn't have too exciting of a film career after that. It just kills me that she got Ernie's jaw though.
>>8040283
Wow even ignoring all the grammatical errors this is still shit. It's boring, cliche and feels like you wrote it knowing that it would never be good and you'd never finish it. Just plain awful
>>8042101
It's Ulysses, so you're the garbage. Yes, even if you knew.
>>8048847
Laughed out loud after a long day's work and painful workout.
Thanks anon.
This isn't the first paragraph, it's from the first chapter (also first time poster, be kind).
THE LIFE OF ANON -- AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY
First chapter: Untitled
It was a warm summer morning, when Scroty decided to do his normal routine. After waking up at four PM, feeling tired and hopeless, he wandered to the kitchen. The kitchen, being the home of the custodian, was the place for Scrotys' only happiness. As he entered the kitchen, he could smell the tender, but oh so crunchy crisps of chicken. The caregiver had bought a "fourty piece" from The Kingburger TM. "This will still my hunger", Scroty thought to himself. The governess was nowhere to be seen, as she was back on her duty. Scroty, the fat but nimble NEET, was in a rush and couldn't care less for his mum, as he was about to no longer be bored.
Chapter two: Autism
>>8050619
3/10
>>8050385
Well its just another sadboi story. I am not intending to publish it, so the audience is me and maybe a few people I might share it with. I imagine there are at at least a couple dozen stories being about being a shitposting loser better than my own and even most of those will likely go unpublished. I am writing this for psychological reasons anyway.
In defense of the text itself I will say the theme of the protagonist having dominion over mundane and insignificant things is a recurring one meant to satirize a prevailing attitude of self-importance that I cannot reasonably distance myself from having indulged in.
As for the jokes and the casual style. I tried to write something like this several times over and I realized that I kept throwing out prior iterations because I was taking it way too seriously. I think sincerity is more than a meme so the humor is just my genuine self-effacement.
>>8050528
Yeah, set in the beginning of a huge war, mainly focused on a division comprised of people who fail swim/academic tests or get in fights. Lots of bad stuff happens boom boom
>>8050969
it fucking blows
Sure! What have I got to lose.
"Well, uh, be safe dude," Manny says as Daniel ducks out of his car. "I'll text you when I'm leaving the theater."
"You sure you don't want to come in with me, even for a second?" Daniel asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the bar behind him.
"Nah," Manny says. "Besides, you're the only one with a fake ID. And my cousins are expecting me."
Daniel nods.
"Don't take any candy from strangers, et cetera," Manny says. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Except drink," Daniel says.
"Yeah. I guess that's the point."
Daniel shuts the door, spinning on his heel to cross the street to the bar before changing his mind and jogging a pace back to the dusty brown sedan. He knocks on the glass and Manny leans over to roll down the passenger window manually.
"Hey man, could you stick around and actually make sure I get in with this stupid thing?" Daniel says. "If this dude at the door won't let me in, it's going to destroy my soul to stand there and text you."
Manny nods gravely. "Godspeed," Manny says, watching Daniel walk towards the bar.
Here goes nothing, Daniel thinks.
Eighteen-year-old Daniel Rhodes is ready to give his fake ID its first spin.
The Jew took took another bite of the fine potato knish enjoying it's exquisite taste. He grabbed his champagne glass, with gelphite fish juice, off the back of his goy-slave. "They make good furniture" he thought. As he adjusted his feet which were atop an Aryan female back. As his greedy lips slurped down the disgusting beverage he remembered fondly how the Operation Golden Shekel had enabled the comfortable life he had, common to all Jews now. The Gentiles had never suspected the Jews debt-enslavement plan until it was too late...
>>8051142
It reads somewhat stiffly, but otherwise, seems like a solid opening.
>>8051290
You don't know what invective means? Why is this thesaurus meme rampant in this thread?
I recently acquired, through illicit means, a schematic of the great magnetic cannon of the GC, the sort of thing that gets fired when a captain of a ship is tired of looking at whatever he’s looking at, and is too stubborn to turn his head away. Of course, I’ve never been there when they light the fuse of this thing. They don’t allow humans there, they think we’ll get ideas. This cannon blast was fired at some foe--now forgotten--and whizzed by, fifteen hundred kilometers wide of its target. Perhaps it was a glitch in the targeting computation, or maybe a malfunction of the sensor array, or just some never-before-seen phenomenon, a superdense mass, flickering into existence after the shot was fired, lasting just long enough for the slug to dip into its gravitational field, then vanishing, the only evidence of its ever being there being the slight curve in the shot’s trajectory, bending it away from its target, sending it roaring down light-years of empty space, too fast to see, before it burst through the heliopause, annihilated Pluto, ripped through the asteroid belt and, like a brick through glass, broke the southern pole of Earth. Logic would dictate that thing is still travelling today, maybe having lost 0.0001% of its momentum.
Well, h-here goes:
Hundreds of miles north the snow begins to solidify and the brown of the earth gives way to the crust and crunch of ice flats. Night had come swiftly. It was still two p.m. when the dusk had vanished and strange boreal lights tangled in the sky.
Beneath these writhing green and distant yellow ribbons a lone snowmobile parted the stillness of the air. The engine hummed with renewed stock, sipping gracefully on hot gasoline and putting out even hotter exhaust.
Nick held onto his guide, hunkered down into the fat of his parka. The cold whipped at him, more intense and cruel now that the sun had slipped behind the horizon. He dared to raise a thickly gloved hand off the waist of his guide and yank the strings of his hood, drawing himself fully into his reflective weather-wear.
"HOW MUCH FURTHER" He had to yell to be heard above the whine of the engine.
"WE'RE ABOUT 30 MINUTES OUT FROM NORTHFURD" His guides voice was caught in the wind rushing past him. '30' was all Nick could piece together. If it could be heard, Nick groaned and awkwardly hunched forward, pressing his shivering body into the back of the driver, hoping to leech some inklings of warmth or at least shield himself from the frigid wind. The driver rolled his back uncomfortably, but still, a slave to himself, Nick gripped tighter and hunkered lower, settling in physically and mentally for a 30 minute hug.
>>8051303
Its overwritten. Just imagine how people would react if you talked that way. Its like you are trying to sound impressive.
>>8045417
gb2 shakespeare gramps, the future is now
>>8049035
Overwritten, pseudo-intellectual garbage.
The island rose sharply from the sea and was covered in a dense tropical forest. Beyond the trees there was a mountain, with sharp ridges running up to its summit overlooking the ocean. On the near side of the island was a small inlet with a smooth beach which sloped off into the sea.
The sea was warm and clear and shimmering in the hot sun. Far out in the distance, a wall of rocks protruding from the sea kept the ocean at bay. There were light waves rolling in towards the beach with white crests of foam, gently carrying towards the shore two limp bundles of clothing. As they approached the shore, they started swimming awkwardly towards the sand and threw themselves on it.
>>8048671
>do the sentence gooder.
i wish more people would do this in writing, blatantly use incorrect words as a middle finger to grammar and literature.
im not even joking.
>>8051321
desu I actually just wrote this on the spot.
>>8051324
>Just imagine how people would react if you talked that way
I agree it's overwritten, but, this is the dumbest thing I've ever read. Also, there's nothing in that post that should make whine about thesaurus usage.
>>8040208
She was wearing nothing but a Cleveland Indians jersey. she opened it an exposed everything. Her tits were big but they had brown nips. 5/10.
>>8051483
2/10
>Cleveland Indians
disgusting
Don stepped outside. It felt good to be alone.
Joshua Christianson was a humble man. He woke up every morning without complaint, and feel asleep every night without tossing in his bed. He shared his room with a crucifix to which he paid little mind, given that he was so used to sharing the space. One day, while he was walking past his bedroom mirror, he caught it in the corner of his eye in its usual place on the wall behind him. Then the phone rang.
>>8051356
this is why you're a bad writer
I wish I could post something from my laughably shitty text novel but I destroyed all evidence of it in 10th grade
>“Go, go, go!” My Officer shouted. I heard it in the fields. Bombs, bolts, bullets. Flying in the air. Shells, screams, screeches. I could hear from the town. I looked across the plain and saw my old friend. I saw others running. Where did this go all wrong? I saw blackness as I remembered a story my grandma told me.
My main problem with the story as a whole is keeping the verb tenses the same. I usually switch between past simple and present simple and continuous
>>8048660
Just use Tasch, great word for pocket and it's short
>>8040208
My name is Daniel, and I think I'm dead. Death as a state seems as fitting to me as depression was. The Big Sleep. My parents gave me that name. They took it from the bible. The one about dreams. I think they saw me with plenty of those when I would grow older. I extinguished my life like an 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.
Every day between the hours of one and three AM my daughter begins crying. It grows louder which each passing minute, until she's screaming without pause. I beg her to stop whenever I visit her grave but she never listens. My psychiatrist tells me it's why I drink, and until I stop creating imaginary phantoms I'll never live a peaceful life. I'd take his advice more seriously if he hadn't killed himself a year ago. Poor bastard's more in denial than I am.
>>8051557
Sounds like it came straight out of Rouge Alliance desu
>>8051625
Never even heard of it, I am taking inspiration from Storm of Steel and I will this chapter to be a general foreshadow myth that is common in stories.
>>8051616
Is this a copypasta, I've heard this everywhere
(This is a shitty short story I'm working on, but whatever.)
The slow undulations of the ocean began to rattle the fisherman from his slumber. Pale, grey-blue clouds draped over the stretching horizon, painting a depressing tint of gloom across the messy beach shore. High tides had wrought powerful forces to the base of his shack (although he liked to call it a cottage; a warm, cozy cottage, just for him, and never to be perturbed by any exterior shenanigans). Each pull of water would shift the foundation a bit. Squeals of Atlantic Puffins periodically vibrated through the free air, penetrating the walls of the shack. The fisherman woke, alarmed from his sleep.
>>8051330
overwritten (and garbage) I can see, but what makes it pseudo-intellectual?
>>8047307
>black insect laughter
>waited half a cigarette
i dig.
>>8051546
I didn't write what you were responding to. I just can't believe someone wants to read something "the way you would talk to other people". Makes me sick.
Poetry I'm currently working on
>>Nature Calls
"Three men lay woke aside the parking lot;
Speaking of plans to pull the world so taut
That fi’re couldn’t cure them of their sins."
Nights whimpered in silent fear of what might become of them.
War slithered in with sinister intent, speaking in eager whispers
In the ears of looming shadows that wept dry tears for sunlight.
Murmurs of discontent sprinted throughout: your home; your clique; your self.
Inching further for anger, blindness swept beneath your skull and latched into you,
Your sins are not your own.
Luring you further with malicious speak shrouded by veiled innocence:
Hysteria lit the path with shadowed light from an envious lantern.
>>8051941
>Poetry
Sorry, there are four other threads for this. Please delete your
post.
>>8051957
please delete your post nigger
It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.
>>8040283
Too many fucking adverbs dude, Jesus.
>>8040208
It was a cold night in the void as usual.
The monotonous patterns of adamantinum panels and dim lighting stretched as far as the senses would allow. The age of the ship truly shows with every step taken on its ancient floorboards. The ware of constant tread and scrapes of many eons of use within the Decaros family bloodline felt upon the barefeet of the Captain. A small yawn escaping his mouth as he draws his forefinger around a rivet in a nearby panel’s passing. A humbled ship by the name of “Pearl Fable” casts its name in Neotonic gasses upon the doorway leading to the control deck, providing what little light there was.
>>8042079
Sounds like a bunch of anal expulsions. I bet it would be hailed as a literary masterpiece.
Forgetting his wounds, he got on his stomach and crawled through. It was cold, strangely cold. There was a downwards slope of dirt illuminated by a faint blue light. He edged towards it, crawling along the path before him. At the end, embedded in the wall, was what he made out to be a pale blue stone. It emitted just enough light to be seen, hiding from the common eye. Weary and delirious from his injuries, Edmond reached out and touched the little blue stone in the wall. Then, with a pleasing simplicity, it popped out and into his bloodied hand. He gazed at it in wonder, for he had never seen such a beautiful thing in his many years of life. It felt satisfyingly warm in his palms, and this reminded Edmond of happier times. Cradling the little blue stone, he began to think of home.
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
`It's not like I'm using,' Case heard someone say, as he shouldered his way through the crowd around the door of the Chat. `It's like my body's developed this massive drug deficiency.' It was a Sprawl voice and a Sprawl joke. The Chatsubo was a bar for professional expatriates; you could drink there for a week and never hear two words in Japanese.
Ratz was tending bar, his prosthetic arm jerking monotonously as he filled a tray of glasses with draft Kirin. He saw Case and smiled, his teeth a webwork of East European steel and brown decay. Case found a place at the bar, between the unlikely tan on one of Lonny Zone's whores and the crisp naval uniform of a tall African whose cheekbones were ridged with precise rows of tribal scars. `Wage was in here early, with two joeboys,' Ratz said, shoving a draft across the bar with his good hand. `Maybe some business with you, Case?'
Case shrugged. The girl to his right giggled and nudged him.
>>8052126
Can I get some feedback on this? How does it "feel" in a sense.
>>8052126
the sudden switch from past to present tense is shit.
>>8052287
Neuromancer
>>8052126
>The monotonous patterns of adamantinum panels and dim lighting stretched as far as the senses would allow
mmmm the sweet smell of patterns
>>8051941
>nature calls
a poem about pissing? a piss poem?
>>8051863
i think what he meant is that it sounds neither natural or transcendental. it's just a mess of words rather than a consistent, coherent text
does anyone wanna comment on my trash >>8044312 okay thanks bye
>>8052434
It's not finished. it's about human nature.
>>8052466
you don't use the woman's name nearly enough. by the start of the second sentence i've already forgotten it
He was a pyre of hope, a Viking funeral for his own dreams, the judge jury and executioner for whatever bright eyed kid he has once been. Propped up on a milk crate in a cramped fast food kitchen gulping down a cigarette, he was the most heroic and tragic person I had ever seen, in the same way that a dying animal refusing to succumb was. I thought of his life often in passing, the summer I was employed in that god awful chicken place. Looking back at the vehemence I hated the place while I worked there, one couldn't help but laugh at the encompassing fury I held for the customers, the owners, every single inconvenience a cataclysm. I held myself in such a high regard, that bullet proof self image of a 17 year old with the entire world figured out in some black and white schematic of where to go and how to be, that the thought of work, of being one of the complacent assholes shoveling grease into their mouths, scared me not into hard work to ensure I escaped, but hate at the world for not providing a route for me to escape.
basically writing a shit tier YA copypasta while I'm still young enough that it doesn't look sad
>>8044312
kinda scholary and erudite yet unnaccesible
>>8045436
Now this is something I can get behind!
>t. Moonman
ITT: the unread yet critical
We need some more loving in this thread
>>8051608
>Overall the writing is good, I just don't like the subject itself as a preference.
Fair enough. I'm just glad I have somewhat functional writing. I'm pretty terrible at "scene writing", or writing in third person past tense.
>>8040283
>Simon Buckly
If being an adverb fag wasn't bad enough.
Sorry to exclude myself boys, but I have 8 chapters done and the first is being reworked for the 7th time, or 8th. It never changes much, but I hate it every time.
>>8048660
Everything they ever taught you in school is bullshit.
