Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 1488. page

Was the authorial intent to amuse you? If so, it's a joke.

I know /lit/ will probably react indifferent to OP or call him a pleb but I think he has a point. I myself recently (year ago) started my "literary journey" thinking it would give me at least some added value but I can't help but feel reading non-fiction, and especially fiction if it doesn't have any direct application in real life is a waste of time.

I can't help but think whilst seeing friends and people in my surrounding who are "making money on the side" in their freetime (evening and weekends) have it by the right end. Whilst you are reading "The Western Canon" they are making money, starting potential businesses, studying/learning marketable skills or are on the road to finanical independence. I think I couldnt bear the sight of one of them driving a nice car (for instance) past my house after 5 years whilst i'm still masturbating to Dostoevsky or Faulkner in my living room.

I know there is a thing called balance, yes reading 1 or 2 hours a day wouldn't hurt but the returns on the time invested in reading are just to meager. I personally have way more fun spending a 120 euro's with friends that took me 8 hours to earn then reading a book in that same time. Yes, I work 40 hours a week and yes I earn a good living but I feel striving for a more "Bilzarian" lifestyle (with the lack of a better example) by being more enterprising in your free time in the end is more fullfilling then becoming a "literary/wise/knowledgable" type like Bloom or Wallace.

*excuse me for my grammar

Haha, yeah.

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Family is meaningless! You're just an individual, and your mother should be just as important to you as some stranger!

Yes, goy, abandon those outdated notions of duty and kinship, don't you see that your life is for you only? You are the centre of the world and anyone who tells you otherwise is just a hater.

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Yes it is a spook, but does that make it worthless?

Holy shit, that passage is tepid af.

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>>9285022
I posted the 2nd rough draft, my apologies. It is similar enough to the final revision to pass the point. I am too drunk to post the final.

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>>9285028
the pseuds of /lit/ dont care to elaborate on their statements. Whew.

>>9285004
I started reading Thus Spake Zarathustra and it's pretty weird.
It makes me feel good for some reason.
Even though I don't agree with the "god is dead" part.
Can't wait to read the rest

>>9285946
>I don't agree with the "god is dead"
Probably because you dont know what it means

>>9285004
I'm not even going to think about reading him until I finish the Greeks like any normal consumer of philosophy should

>>9284961
he stole a bunch of hot dogs

>>9284961
He makes his mother sad.

He tried to rile up the coloreds

some something velvetine darkness something something terror

>>9284936
Son goes in.
Hi son.
Hi dad.
Struggle.
Son is kill.
Dad is sad.

End..

>>9284936
I just spotted Ivan Ivanovich sitting on the rug with his dead son Ilya. Frankly, I'm shocked. I just cant believe this. I'm going to need some time to process this.
...Ugh.

OP here, cont.: "“It’s an ode to a lost, but never-forgotten summer, this is to let
out the air of the pink sky, the breeze of the summer wind and the
love we all shared at that time. The zeitgeist of 1994. Our house is
one of the dead-ends of Stoughton, Wisconsin. I am sure you by now
have seen this in zillions of movies, maybe you have passed one of
the similar homes and shacks in my adjacency. My room is messy as
always and I have a skateboard, a deck of Illuminati card game by
Steve Jackson and a giant Jurassic Park poster, with Blink, Alice in
Chains and Soundgarden records. In my room there was always mess,
which is not surprising as I was a pre-adolescent boy, who loved
cycling in town and hated school. One day, on this August day, we
had guests coming over to a BBQ. They were Dad’s colleagues and
friends, the usual set-up. And some brought along their kids my age.
In the yard there would be two inflatable baby pools so that the
youngest could beat the heat in the suburban summer. So, we were
having this garden party and I got to kiss this cute girl, Emily at
the back of our house, where the sky meets the cornfield, an
infinite cornfield. Emily was the daughter of my Dad’s associate. We
were also about the same age and they had been invited in the light
of future, prosperous business. As we were living upstate, corn was
everything. Near the house we had a barn, painted red where I used
to go to smoke cigarettes. Looking back this was a stupid idea as I
could’ve easily burned down half of the state. It was summertime,
and the sky seemed as if some unicorn shat orange and pink paintings
on it, something breathtaking. I remember it so clearly, because I
was so damn proud to be able to show this wonder of Nature to a
girl. Before we could escape from the mandatory family BBQing, we
were told to gather for a photo. The photo was eventually made by
the BBQ and retrospectively we looked as nicely as a bowl of fresh
and smiling strawberries. The BBQ party was organized right by the
cornfields so it wouldn’t take a lot of work to escape with Emily.
After I collected all my bravery, I told her I knew a place, my
hiding place, so we escaped from the garden party our parents
organized and as we were advancing into the infiniteness that the
corn provided and I now recall how Coupland said his 15-year old
body was getting cuts form the corn - we did as well. But finally,
we arrived and started making out. Like, we were 9 year olds. And it
felt fantastic, unearthly - and Emily enjoyed the moment as well,
shit, we were so young. Unlawfully young. Even the thought of it
should be punished. And I told her that in that summer I’d been
waking up here at dawns. She looked perplexed at first but later she
moved on and started asking how this was possible. I said I did not
know, but almost every morning I woke up there, some serious Donnie
Darko shit. ”

From what I know, Jesus had to take pills for his somnambulant
‘condition’, as the doctors had diagnosed him with some delusional
disorder, whatever that meant. The reason for that was that Jesus
was said to have stated aliens had been visiting him. Maybe the
lackluster environment kindled his imagination, maybe he was indeed
visited. Nobody would know as after taking those pills Jesus’
reality would not be coherent even on a daily level. You gotta give
it to him that he did manage to come off the stuff, leaving only two
years destroyed of his life.
“And not that I’d known anything about Donnie Darko then,” - he went
on: - ”I was nine, you know. And it wasn’t 2001. Emily and I were
making out again, which was fantastic, but then, suddenly I had this
strong...urge to believe that....that someone or something is
watching us, in my hiding place in the cornfield. I guess I started
shaking and fainted, heard Emily scream then, the next thing I
remembered was I was lying in a hospital bed. With all the worrying
around me, they said I was exhausted. But from what? It was summer,
and I’d never been this weak guy. I was like Cartman: fatty and
racist.” - he smirked and went on - “The doctors and everybody said
I’d been unconscious for 20 minutes maximum, but I swear it felt
more. And it still does. Then, on those sleepless nights I recalled
that moment, and there was something that kept me bothering me then
- my mind playing tricks on me, it was the sound of a door slam -
fuckin’ ridiculous, huh?”
I remember I could not say anything to that, no matter how much I
might have wanted to. That night of Jesus recalling this childhood
memory still feels real, especially in the light of our trip, and
now I am still sitting by the oceanside alone. Because it makes
sense now. I am not saying that Jesus’ behavior to that girl at
Starbucks was justifiable in any sense, but he was just unable to
control his emotions sometimes. And that was such a moment.
As Wikipedia states,around the 1910s, campers who did not have
enough money to stay in hotels while on the road, they slept in
their pitched tents alongside state roads.

These were originally
called ‘auto camps’, because usually travelers would park their cars
and motors there as well. From these dwellings, later on, the
institution of motels came into being. The word ‘motel’ actually was
conceived, when a certain individual, Arthur Heineman in 1925
abbreviated ‘motor hotel’ to ‘motel’ as the original phrase would
not fit on his rooftop. During the Great Depression, those who were
still traveling, were pressurized to use the services of such motels
instead of hotels, where tips were expected by porters or bell-
captains. The expansion of the highway system, and the City
Directory of San Diego helped motels become more and more popular
and while during the Depression era, one could pay for a cabin less
than a buck, the price got higher as certain facilities and extras
were offered to people. As for their general layout, motels have
either ‘I’,‘L’, or ‘U’ shapes, and for my personal favorites were
the post-war ones with their colorful neon signs and the space-era
themed interior and ‘atomic age iconography’. Such was the motel we
stayed for the upcoming night. We left the Christopher Columbus
Highway and parked our car, and felt the aggressive heat that made
me want to sit back in our car with AC. The motel was a two-storey
motel with a huge sign that they still have vacant rooms. In its
modest parking lot I could hardly see four or five cars. Thought it
was the peak season.
The receptionist gave us two opposite rooms with all the basic
necessities. As you stepped inside, on your left there was a small
bathroom with a toilet and a shower cabin, and a mirror. The room
consisted of a double-bed a TV, a nightstand with the compulsory
Bible and a built-in wardrobe. The curtains were light brown, at
least that was what the rays of the Sun painted them. I dropped my
bag onto the bed and lay down in the bed. The sweat was coming down
on my forehead and I started wondering what I was gonna do after we
arrived in Palo Alto. We’d probably meet Old Joel, then get the
money and I don’t know. I mean it is Jesus’ money, I have no
business in taking it from him.
Later, we met up to eat at the motel’s restaurant. Also, since we
had plenty of time, we agreed on taking the day off and had a normal
lunch here. The whole restaurant was designed with this
‘lumberjack / living-in-the-woods’ style, hunk wood logs and all and
it bothered me a bit how uncomfortable I was feeling, not
necessarily because of this design, but some weird feeling
overshadowed my whole day since we arrived. The whole place was as
if the 1950s would sit down next to the 1980s and they were talking
about who is more powerful.

>>9284895
Melville

>>9284899
Harlan Ellison, if he's still alive, the oily little shit.

Probably Gene Wolfe or Tao Lin

Start with the greeks

Pynchon

J.K. Rowling

They're pictograms.

their lit af, senpai

maybe...

(‿)

>dGw mein deutsch ist schlecht
Fühlt traurig
Ich möchte gute und wichtige werke lesen aber mein wortschatz ist zu klein.

>>9284770

I can't speak German, but I'm making my mum a Baumkuchen this weekend for Mother's Day.

>>9285532
>Baumkuchen
Is that a reference to something
I know what it might be to,but I don't want to make a fool out of myself.

Or perhaps you will be making those cookies without referencing anything

Monkey's trick.

Small minds are really impressed by this shit for some reason.

>>9284792
Good one man, feel better about yourself now?

>>9284797
never fucking reply to me again unless you are contributing to the thread.

not smart enough


jk bro reread it again in a year or so and i'm, sure you'll have picked up on everything you missed :)

>>9284740

there's so many ideas and sentiments packaged into neuromancer that it's hard to see past the early cyberpunk cheese

Oh thank god I'm not the only one

>>9284645
don't you mean "pick something you wrote three years ago and post it in 20 mins to avert suspicion"

>>9284650
lol true

>>9284645
Post this tomorrow and I'll participate

Math if you're edgy
Meds if you aren't

>>9284772
is being edgy good

>>9284721
Do math, then go to med school