How can i be so infatuated with someone who's not real... A nose, two eyes and ears; hair long and curly; wavy golden silk gently resting; a brilliant smile, like a moonbeam, and her scent - oh, the scent!; flowers and grass and droplets of rain - woe is me; in pain! Only a dream, that is to say, a part of me; in love with myself - what a curse to be.
>>7595373 Would be pretty interesting if somebody decided that taking up space was their reason for being. Would they try to become as wealthy as possible to acquire land? Keep running in circles through the most crowded place on earth with some kind of space-taking-up frame built around them? Or just get really fat?
Kicking dope is like being born. Your ripped out of a warm, comfortable world, kicking and screaming, cold and wet into bright lights and the loud horror of the world. But, pretty soon, you get to suck on the tit and you can poop normal again. Sometimes a good bowel movement is all a man has to look forward to in life.
It came as no surprise why the caricature of today's modern father is nothing but an alcoholic buffoon, but I can't say I have high regards for my own peers. Always in constant communication, nearly developing an entirely different identity through their whole lives just for the divine judgement of the social god's eye; all to jump through hoops for who really? No wonder you had to expect everything with such a fraction of enthusiasm just in case it does turn out bad in the end so that you could boast and be ever so smugly correct forever. But I always did wonder where this sense of security came from. It makes appreciating things such a chore on its own. This generation was born on secondhand smoke.
Is there any benefit in creating the idea that you have privacy? Wouldn't it be just easier to give in, live like you never had privacy and its just a lie? the more i get into the problem with privacy i somehow return to the idea that everything is already gov tagged. If you can find it on the internet, there is a backdoor. Governments spend enormous budgets on these things and it just seems like a lost cause. Now the struggle feels like believing you have some privacy from your parents after they caught you masturbating. You thought they'll never know, yet they know everything.
oh, how I struggle with lack of identity. I can't tell if I like things myself, or is it just a thing I like because my friends do, or that that's a thing that my created image of me would like. Purity is what I strive for. Having no direction is why I'm suffering.
Last night was filled with screams and the obtuse ramblings of strange voices. I don't know if that means I successfully invoked a spirit or if I was just driven crazy by the drip drip drip of the shower head in the next room. The wine, cigarettes, and energy drink I had probably din't help. One day my invocations will happen on purpose and with certainty though.
This morning I logged on to 4chan and clicked the subforum dedicated to literary discussion. The first thread asked people to write what was on their mind. To get a feel for what people were saying I took a look at the other posts -- and was dismayed to discover that most of them were terrible!! It's ironic that while people come here to talk about great literature, they themselves usually employ a shit literary style, probably under the delusion that they are profound, intelligent and artsy.
I vacuumed the carpet very thoroughly and thought about doing sit-ups. Instead I sat on the bed and put on some music. I sat right next to the window and saw things whizzing in the air that could have been snow or hail. Down on the street was a commotion that might have been a friendly collective joke but more possibly, given the neighbourhood, was a fight, more likely a beating. I sat until my back started hurting and then I lied down. Music sounds better with good headphones, and what are good headphones? Price is often not a good criteria. The physical build also lied, sometimes. The only source I trusted were reviews, usually from online message boards.
Why are we so obsessed with life and why do we view death as a travesty to be avoided at all costs? There's no reason for living, we are all bound to innate desires and aversions which drive all our actions. Granted, our higher consciousness allows for more complex behaviors but they're still ultimately meaningless. If you live for yourself you die and take every experience with you. If you live for others they will die and anything you provided for them loses it's meaning.
Why is the loss of life something to be lamented when the void left by one is inevitably filled by another? We are the only species unfortunate enough to have the mental capacity to contemplate the meaning of our own existence. We lament the death of others because it raises consciousness of the transience of our own ego and reminds us that even if we do everything to stay fit and avoid accidents there is a shelflife on the human mind and body. Eventually the myelin wears away, neural connections are lost, and the body breaks down no matter what you do.
You can't stay competitive with other's forever, they will overtake you and once you're displaced and have given all you have to give to society you will be flicked away like a cigarette butt.
You only have one life to live, but what's the point of living it?
Tomorrow I go back to uni for the first time in a month. I missed my exams and barely talk to anybody but I'll get to see cuties without having to get up very early in the morning. Timetables, and feeling (dis)satisfaction at their layouts, have been a part of my life. Has my torrent finished yet? nope, I might as well keep going. Dad barged into my room as me and Martin discussed going to Dublin over skype. He wanted some YA books from my childhood. I told him to get back to the other better book he was reading but he mumbled something about comparing writing and left. There's pasta left and Dublin looks welcoming after Ulysses. torrent is done.
>>7595368 I will try writing what's on my mind although i suspect it will be difficult seeing as iv'e jerked off two times today and that usually doesn't bode well for my mental acuity.
However, today i feel different. It could be because i injected water from the shower head into my anus and i consequently sat shitting out water for a half hour afterwards. Maybe it cleansed me. I'd like to believe it cleansed me and that i'm not just experiencing some kind of placebo effect right now being that my mind isn't that clouded all things considered.
I originally wrote some deep shit in this paragraph about the Nature of Reality but I don't think it fits the theme and that's how it usually goes in life isn't it? It usually fits the theme until it doesn't anymore, but to suddenly jump from anuscleansing to egocleansing is perhaps the mark of a madman or a genius and my spirits are too low now to believe in the latter. So instead of talking about Ultimate Truth and such kind I will continue my experiment in body cleansing, because winners do and losers wail. Ad astra per aspera!
I bought a second hand book, the dust jacket is a little bit scuffed and it's really irritating me. I'm wondering if maybe I could trim a couple milometers off with a guillotine but that could just mess the entire thing up.
>>7596933 All 'euphoria' is artificial. Oh, so you love your wife and kids? Your brain firing dopamine and serotonin into the right places to make you feel happy. Why does it matter if I give my brain a nudge?
Having flashbacks of the time I took DMT with mates and seen the interracial breeding grounds. It's hard to convey the scale of this thing. It's as if one entire country was designated to be this breeding ground , and white women made a pilgramage there from the world over.
Thousands of waiting room tents on a completely level field, cum storage vats the size of grain silos, Then the main breeding facilities which hold thousands of the strongest fittest black studs, With suction tubes attatched to their cocks like the ones attatched to cows utters, draining their balls.
Then after they were drained they would remove the apparatus and head into one of the resting tents. The cum went up through thousands of tubes into individual transparent holding vats in the ceiling, coming down in a large circus style big top tent where thousands of women lined up to sit on these bench styled apparatus with individual arse recessed seats which inseminated them, There were changing room facilities for the women to put their clothes while they got inseminated.
When my mates ask me what my experience was like I had to lie and say I was flying over a forest
>>7596897 Pff. Pleb. Not even willing to experiment with his own body. Ultimate faggot.
As for me and my experiment: it seems i think clearer now, which would make sense as less toxins should be present in my body. Did you ever feel clearer in your head after taking a big shit? Well i got the same effect from cleaning my body.
>>7597150 >Did you ever feel clearer in your head after taking a big shit? No one has ever felt this except you. Stop projecting, and stop trying to normalise your intense IBS as though it were some kind of spiritual right.
>>7597167 I don't have IBS. Maybe you should clear your bowels so you can think clearer. And if you have never felt clearer in your head after taking a large shit, maybe after you were drunk or something i'm not sure you have actually lived at all, maybe you are not even human, maybe you're a bot.
I almost get sober after taking a shit after having been out drinking. If the toxins go out of your body you immediately feel clearer.. it's the same fucking principle and not very hard to understand so stfu.
>>7595368 I managed to finally get the chance at doing research that could be published, I even have a chance at working for NASA.
I'm worried that I'll never get the chance to write my book or essays. I know there's plenty of time, but I don't want to wait too long to write my ideas, but I'm even more worried I won't do them justice and botch the whole thing.
I admitted my deepest insecurity to a woman and she hasn't spoken to me since. I don't have issues with talking to women but this individual made me feel I was emotionally connected enough to admit my demons; then she hasn't spoken to me. /k/ and /lit/ hybrid here, to those who experience the same, we need to survive. We create some good material; don't give up.
>>7597906 no one wants to hear about all the times u sucked coaches dick after practice, everyone knows you enjoyed and just feel guilty now, otherwise you would have punched his balls and called the cops, but you didn't, cuz ur a cum guzzling sissy slut
the people who get super defensive when you point out that they produce nothing, risk nothing, exist only to signal their status to other goony assholes, and are too much of a pussy to even do that except by mutely gesturing at what they want you to think they are not, so why not go a level of meta up from their _txt quotewhining/listing web things they don't like and just tweet a smug emoticon over and over or something
>>7598055 extremist /pol/ people and fundies are what you get when you narrow the rest of the internet down to nothing and make the leftovers fight each other to the death in a small room
say what you will about gamergate, it was wonderful how it shrugged off conventional shaming tactics to the point that people who prided themselves on smug, flippant irony were sincerely calling for congressional action and federal involvement and twitter had to literally restructure itself to try and prevent it from happening again
>>7598114 honestly i never really followed gamergate and im not sure what it was even about since im not into gaming, social media or gender rights...but i always got the feeling it was some kind of viral marketing scheme gone wrong
>>7598130 I don't give a fuck about video games either but I guess some hard leftists made false flag threats and then they got real ones threatening to bomb and kill them. Also, some fake marine wannabe threatened to run them over with his mom's Prius.
>>7598090 well, myspace looked invincible once, and people used to say everything was on Usenet
on the other hand, SA is still alive and busily exporting garbage
maybe twitter will collapse like livejournal and be turned over to CJK people instead of the russians. that could be nice
>>7598130 now the truth can be told: it was a stealth campaign for "being able to not care about the opinions of people from brooklyn and/or san fran". sadly, the FDA determined that the product was addictive and it is now unavailable, like decongestants that actually work
I'm so fucking lonely. This entire winter break has been nothing but me working 7 hours a day, checking walmart for star wars figures, finding nothing every single day, coming home, browsing 4chan for 9 hours, then going to bed. My life feels so fucking meaningless. I haven't had friends since the second grade and even now can't make them. I'm an English major and can't connect with anyone. When I read or talk aloud I feel like a fucking sperg. Why are people so hard to talk to? Why is everyone my age having fun in life and I do nothing? Why haven't I read a book for fun in 7 months? Why am I so fucking retarded. Jesus christ I hope I don't wake up tomorrow.
>>7598194 That's the other thing. I buy anime and star wars figures just to burn my money because my tuition is so cheap (my family is poor (my dad has his money in the stock market so not really)) and I literally buy these things because buying things makes me happy. I'm 19 years old and have 14k in the bank, but no one to buy gifts for, no one to take out.
It's about 20 below zero outside. I want to masturbate but I think they'll hear me. Also, it's cold in here. You see, when I take off my blanket, my nuts shrivel up and my dick shrinks at the touch of my clammy hand. So I can't whack it.
I'm frustrated by my lack of original thought when it comes to literature. I'll read a book, think it's great, and then read some sort of analysis that blows my mind, but most of all, makes me feel stupid. I guess I believe that I'm smart enough to "get" the ideas on my own, and come to the same conclusions, even though I've only been reading seriously for about half a year. Fuck.
It bothers me that I get off to incest porn. I've long since become numb to the crippling shame that used to overcome me after finishing, but I still find something... wrong about it. I would NEVER fuck my mom or my sister, so why do I really like incest porn? I assume it's the tension, the build-up, the taboo, it's all rather alluring in that way.
Social anxiety is a prison. Every class presentation I give is akin to dropping the soap in the showers. Benzos help, they're like having a visit. A glimpse into the world of the vast majority of people not constantly worrying, self-conscious, held back by their irrational fears. But there's still a wall in between my brain and their world, and I doubt if I'll ever get past it. I really hope I do, though, because I'm growing tired of the company in here.
I have recently been fixated on the fact that my time as a self-aware being who can experience things is limited. Even if I were to make some grand scientific discovery before my death, the universe will one day grow cold and die, and nothing any being in this world has ever done will matter.
Strange how we (think we) understand so much but can do so little to change our fate.
>>7597900 I read the entire thing and didn't understand why people like it so much, it seemed like a basic post-apocalypse story and I don't think it was super successful at creating an emotional attachment between myself and the protagonists.
>>7595586 I read short stories while sipping my coffee at work. My dog died at three in the morning, yesterday, hit by a car while she was coming home hours after she had run off after a deer. Hours after we had combed the surrounding woods and streets looking for her, shouting her name and whistling. I didn't plan to be at work. In fact, I was convinced that I would take the day off. But I need the money, and I can't stand to be home anyway. Seeing the places where she should be, the spots where she sat and yawned next to us, wagging her tail when we reached down to pet her. The pristine lack of footprints on the snow that fell just hours after we got the visit from the state trooper, his eyes tearing up as he told us not to go look for her body. She was too badly mangled. To stay would kill me inside. Instead, I sit here at work and mourn silently, trying to make it look like I'm actually doing something productive with my time.
I open a pdf and stare blankly at the symbols-once-words that mean nothing to me. A co-worker walks by on the way to get coffee and talks to me about football. I answer, based on the small pieces of games I'd seen while I tried to distract myself from the reality that folded around me like a bad dream. She wasn't even two-years-old. I keep the responses short; "Mhm," "yeah," "nope," "hmm." The co-worker walks away, making a remark about a player's age.
I go back to the short stories, self-published on some corner of the internet. They're interesting. One is a hypothetical future where American "neo-conservatism" runs wild and the persecution and abuse of innocents blooms. Interesting, but overblown, even for satire. She was cold and alone when she died. The next collection of short stories is written by a young man plagued by the morose pains that seem infest the soul of all newly-young men. He uses the word "saudade," and for a moment I wonder if the word's current surge in English language works has been precipitated by some increased mass-reading of Pessoa or Coelho or some other lusophone writer. His next short tale is best described as a set of instructions for a game of Hide-and-Go-Lose-Yourself. She was coming home.
I look down at my dress shirt and see small white hairs, here and there. Reminders of her. They stick to the deep blue fabric, twisting like runes. My shirt, a talisman and tapestry of a loyal dog's love. I never got to say goodbye.
It would be nice if I weren't so incredibly lazy that I literally sit refreshing the same internet pages over and over for hours because I don't want to get up and read or, for that matter, even play video games. I think I could really be a well read and rounded person if I had the strength to just do stuff. It's tiresome to read, but I feel so good about having done it afterwards, even if the book was shit. I don't know why I have such trouble doing something that's rewarding instead of something that isn't.
My scars aren't results of hard work or anything besides drunk mischief. I'm lazy and don't do anything of much interest to anyone but myself, especially sober. So far despite doing everything to ruin my life things are going better than ever. I like it. I'm really not sure whenever I despise or adore the way I live, either way not sure I'll be able to ride this current very much longer, or maybe I might. I've been thinking otherwise for a long time and so far its still here, only getting kookier.
oh shit i took a massive shit that left a giant tumor-like skid mark in the bowl and wouldn't go down after two flushes and my roommate just went in the bathroom, fuck why are my shits so sticky? is it due to gluten or something?
I sit here about to quit my job, just waiting to collect my draw check. Knowing full well I have no money in my bank, knowing that I have two months at best of ability to pay my bills.
Perhaps even less as I recently started dating. The job of a salesman, no, the life of a salesman is a difficult one, as I've figured out, this job is only for those whose money is the sole purpose of life.
I will miss this job, this opportunity, it does have it's glamours, and perhaps I am a quitter, I've quit everything and I may never amount to anything, and perhaps that is my place in this world. A face that shows itself everywhere once.
Now I will try my hand at physical labor, carpentry, construction, it doesn't matter. I will rid myself of the anxiety of having to become "someone" and will become myself instead.
Not sure if I'm mildly autistic, bipolar, or even mildly scizophrenic. Maybe all three? Maybe none of them. I don't know anymore. All I know is there is something wrong with me that will keep me isolated from other people for the rest of my life because I'm tired of fighting it and putting myself out there. I had a doctors appointment a couple weeks ago where I was supposed to get medication but I didn't go because I don't trust that whatever they'd give me wouldn't fuck me up more. I kind of regret it though because last night I had such a bad mood swing that if I would have had a gun I probably would've killed myself. The only time I feel okay is when I'm drinking but I feel like that's slowly draining the life out of me.
Tomorrow is the last day to drop all my classes and decide if I want to take the semester off. I finished my first book last year and all I want to do is take the semester to see If I can do another without the stress of classes or mounting debt.
What disgrace! What fury, what anger I throw against myself! It's reasons so obscure, as if underwater I see and hear, but the sounds are nothing more than distorted and uncomprehensible words. I understand nothing, and I feel nobody does. They don't understand and don't care, these happy ignorants! Silent judge, voice of the soul! Everything you see and everything you hear. With these penetrating eyes you judge me. Why don't you talk? Answer! Your judgement is like a flame burning inside me, I try to extinguish it, but I can't. When will you finally open your mouth?
I absolutely hate my life and I want it to end. I can't get the motivation to even begin writing even something as simple as the short story I have both in notes and in my head. I feel trapped by everything that is going on around me and stuck in a rut I cannot escape no matter what I do. I feel limited as to where I can go as I'm stuck in a shitty suburb without transportation and without some kind of vehicle I can't go anywhere so I just sit at home. The transportation in my city is absolutely garbage and I don't have the money to get insurance so I can get a license (required in my state) so I can eventually get a car.
I'm honestly just ready to end it all. I want to live by the coast and just fish my life away but I'm stuck here.
>>7600522 >I can't get the motivation to even begin writing even something as simple as the short story I have both in notes and in my head. Then don't.
>I feel trapped by everything that is going on around me and stuck in a rut I cannot escape no matter what I do. Give up on hope.
>I feel limited as to where I can go as I'm stuck in a shitty suburb without transportation and without some kind of vehicle I can't go anywhere so I just sit at home. Walk. No, it doesn't matter how far it is.
>The transportation in my city is absolutely garbage and I don't have the money to get insurance so I can get a license (required in my state) so I can eventually get a car. Security is an illusion, give up on it.
>I want to live by the coast and just fish my life away That's beautiful.
>>7600689 haha i took seven years, too, i was so lazy and demotivated by marxist brainwashing. then when i realized none of my trust-fund revolutionary friends from college were going to pay my rent i went full capitalist mode, and left marxism behind with other childish things.
>>7600581 The world stays, people follow. Everyone here seems stuck in a prison of themselves. Their bodies are homes, but the kind of home one returns to with reluctance. Taking trips in it and walking miles through it and traveling as far as possible, but all the travel is circles and all the walking is the same weary pace around the living room, past the kitchen, to the bedroom and back and again.
You know those sharks that sink unless they keep swimming? If they stop swimming they suffocate and fall to the hadal abyss. That's where I am. That's where I see you. An undersea trench and we've stopped swimming. But we're sinking still, I think, and when you're so deep that everything is darkness the sinking can feel like swimming; like rising, or falling, or standing still. Do you even feel the water at that depth? Is the shark aware of the increasing pressure? Are you?
The same steps, the same actions. Every day a little better or a little worse. Some lives balance out, but most end in a precipitous collapse. The failing of the body. The failing of the mind. An act of violence. Self-inflicted murder, one day at a time. This is why the popular movies ask if you're living or dying. This is why the bros and selfie legions say #yolo or tattoo carpe diem and veni vidi vici on themselves. (A tramp stamp: "de gustibus non est disputandum.") There's no argument about taste, but everyone does it anyway. Everyone says they know the right way to live but nobody really knows and everyone does their best and look where that has gotten us. Somewhere noble? Somewhere worth living? You be the judge of your own situation, and decide whether to change or stay. Stay, too.
So I already posted in this thread way earlier today but fuck it I've got more stuff on mind. So whether you believe in the bible or not it's hard to admit that there isn't some biblical/revelation type stuff going on. But let's just assume that the bible is true and that Lucifer and his angels fell and are plotting this one world government under the power of the beast and so forth. Why would they do that? Why would they play into that and basically confirm the bible at least partially true? (or at least have similarities with it) I don't this should probably go on /x/ but I hate most of those people and this thought was on my mind. Forgive me Im drunk
I'm thinking in spanish so I say myself "you should write up in english to show some anonymous people on a cantonese cartoon based forums what you're thinking about", but as I think that, I end up forgetting what I really thought. Well, here it goes. Maybe I should put something to fill this thing. Existence is all built around myself (sadly), from my perspective, so I wanna read other guys to know about other existences having the world by their perspectives.
>>7600785 It's possible, you just have to convince yourself that learning about another person will benefit you in some way. Use your boundless capacity for self-interest to motivate you towards altruism and conviviality.
Ok, so to begin with I was preparing an act of terrorism. About 40 years worth of felony were assembled and strewn across my desk. As I assembled them, a series of increasingly frantic dreams that had the depth of entire worlds came into my head, seemingly in warning. Finally, as I prepared to scoop up my vicious devices and go execute, a voice came into my head telling me that I was a dragon, a foul wyrm to betray an oath (for I had sworn to the man who gave me my surname that I would never stain it with murder). Then suddenly, I felt as if I was possessed by a separate personality, a dragon.
Since then she has been in my head, talking to me, mostly berating me for being boring, stupid, useless, and disgusting. Sometimes she takes over. I got on antipsychotic meds and they quieted her down a lot but she hasn't gone away entirely. She makes me cut myself sometimes, and she seems to come into my mind most often when I use stimulants. I don't know what she is, but I've come to love her a great deal. If she weren't bound by the oath as well, she would like to kill people, but instead she just wants me to read and learn.
Anyway, I've been shitposting about it and our relationship pretty much constantly on this and other boards and I almost never get any response. Usually it's positive if people think I'm writing fiction, or >> /tumblr/ if they don't. It really sucks not being able to talk about my experiences even anonymously. I've been reading stuff like Joseph Campbell and Jung, and that helps a bit, but I'm just trying to extract a sense of meaning from the whole thing and on that I'm faltering really badly. I feel like if I can solve this mystery then I've very nearly solved the mystery of my own being. Yet even with the buffer of anonymity, people avoid me like I'm carrying plague. Oh well.
>>7600794 Well, this can be an approach. Another one is just to have curiosity, and it's damn easy (well, maybe I'm biased because I think I'm a curious person). You could think there's some missing point in what the person tells, or some detail... we have curiosity as well so it can motivate for it. That's it.
>>7595368 I am not feeling good. I've realized that my entire worldview is one of detachment. I always saw religions as something life denying, looking forward to a life after this, etc, its a reduction of course but is a negative I see and I also just cant believe in it. Today I realized that stoicism is just as much as a detachment from this world, while I used to espouse that just the act of existing in this absurd world is an act of rebellion. However, that rebellion is also just a way of detaching myself from the world around me and probably the biggest reason I am in the place I am now. However, everyone around me is just as detached be it through religion or alcohol, its all just a means of detachment. I am the only who is soberly detaching himself and acting like the fact that I am sober is somehow an accomplishment.
>>7600821 What about the people who immerse themselves in life? What's so wrong about embracing the veil of Maya, and making a life out if it? Not hedonism, but a more intense existence. Like breathing double? A higher breath.
She only had me do it to prove my seriousness about our relationship, since going on medication had weakened it. She wants the best for me, she doesn't hate me, she just hates what I've done with myself. And she's a source of strength and inspiration.
>>7600797 Do you have a diary or a blog? Because even if you sound crazy, it's still pretty interesting to read what you've got to say.
>Ok, so to begin with I was preparing an act of terrorism. About 40 years worth of felony were assembled and strewn across my desk. Why were you doing this though?
>I feel like if I can solve this mystery then I've very nearly solved the mystery of my own being. Careful there.
>Yet even with the buffer of anonymity, people avoid me like I'm carrying plague. People are afraid of what they don't udnerstand; or rather are afraid of understanding something that seems dangerous to be true.
I have a "mirror book" which I've kept, which I've written pretty much solely about my dragon. It's handwritten though.
>Why were you doing this though?
I was convinced I was going to die and wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. I wanted to change the world, and I belong to a demographic that's more or less powerless, who can't advance our interests through reason due to bias and entrenched interests. I thought that a calculated use of violence could achieve what reason could not. Not saying more.
>>7600898 Who are you quoting bro. >>7600892 Basically I was saying this, but I was saying that the ideologies lead to detachment. Cutting through the veil as this anon put it, is I will have to work on.
>>7600905 >I wanted to change the world, and I belong to a demographic that's more or less powerless, who can't advance our interests through reason due to bias and entrenched interests. I thought that a calculated use of violence could achieve what reason could not. So you were playing their game, doing violence in a violent system.
>It's handwritten though. Post pics of it some time if you can.
I know that she wonders sometimes where I am, when we'll meet, if I'm OK. I know that she sits in front of her computer sometimes, as I do, and feels that prompting - the one that sinks deep into the lungs, chocking. That yearning to break what you've built, wouldn't it feel nice to smash something beautiful? I know that this very evening shes living. I envy the salt that gives her flavor, her antagonist, her antithesis, her rival. The problem that dwells so intimately in her thoughts which envelops her attention, cant it be me? Am I the one which compels your movement towards beauty? The hand which you can feel warmly in your palm, the chest that wraps and protects you every night? I have to admit that I desire you. Naturally, its no secret that what I yearn for is your love consumed by mine.
I'm a horrible person and a goddamned liar. The only way I'll ever change myself is to move out of this place and start new. I have to go West and find a place where no one knows me and where I can be free. I want to live in the middle of nowhere, away from the city and from all those things that corrupt me.I want to be a better person but I can't seem to change.
It's good thing I don't drink, if I did I'd surely drink myself to death like the rest of my family. I'll be alone forever and I deserve it, why would anyone want to be with a sinner?
I used to write with every finger gripping the pen. Only recently have I started writing with just three fingers. My handwriting is really quite improved from where I started. Besides which, it's my own goddamn journal so it legibility isn't a priority anyway.
Looking for some place to share this since I wont be sending it.
>>She's a recovering addict turned model. >>I was her break through photographer and affair.
I began writing to you some time ago. It started with a text I would hang onto after another late night that I sort of kept rewriting before admitting to myself that the way we left it was both absolute and resolute by my standards. Yet the urge to speak up with nothing to say kept provoking me in ebbs and flows: A late night drive with a full moon over fog. Empty highway to the coast, smooth like glass. Kind of song on the radio terminally confusing déjà vu and nostalgia. Sand in my shoes, sea salt in my whiskey. But I didn’t pick up my pen until the moments found me in dreams—the place we can’t hide from ourselves.
>>7601205 from what I could actually comprehend it almost reads like a young persons diary... It isn't unusual for children to hear voices that "tell them to do these bad things" but this seems to be rooted a lot in fantasy... I am curious have you read a lot of fantasy horror type fiction or had an interest in this kind of thing before this voice started speaking to you? A lot of the stuff (demanding a tribute for dissobedience) is not that original (that type of shit is even in the bible) and it seems from your notes that her name is nothing original either. Is there some type of obsession you had where you got these ideas from or are they all coming to you as original ideas and thoughts. It is interesting but almost seems too generic to really shock or surprise me. Also interesting she is a girl.. does she talk to you about anything sexual or things of that nature
Yeah I've got some stop motion I want to produce which revolves around incorporating limited 3 dimensional scenery in conjunction with a green screen to occlude the sense of distinction and achieve the theatricality I'm looking for in the sort of shots I want to use - scaled down establishing shots - so that you can't tell if it's a model theatre piece where the characters are the substance of the action or but an extension of their environment.
This all came about from: wanting to produce an original video centring on the tragedy of a nameless, speechless low life going about his day, contrasting elements of grandeur with themselves around this character to highlight some dark truth, and rewatching the Eva pilot right after The Machine (2013).
The characters in all of these are bodies made of playdo moulded well but with shapes for heads - wire frames devoid of surface - and in a sense formless, only identifiable by size, clothes, and headshape (the headshape means I can focus the shot on the wire frame, leaving something in relation to a blurred background - though I have no idea how to incorporate this other than for a specific meta effect in relation to the green screen).
If anybody remembers the Eva pilot, there's an under appreciated scene where for the first time Shinji is shown his EVA. In it, his father appears literally higher than him - Shinji's known-yet-not-known true purpose is his piloting of this EVA, manipulated in empathy by his father - as he stands in the main control section, and the EVA is given perspective. Anno's use of moving environment backgrounds and character relationships collide into one another in this scene. I'm more interested in giving this some sort of cinematic melodrama: I want to grossly disproportion the EVA's size; have a scaffolding bridge dividing the shot at the first third; and for the entire 3 dimensional scenery to be doused in shadow - lit up only when the EVA's eyes activate, when its true scale is recognized. The EVA has to be the unstable symbol or mass of fear, and then this has to be inverted according to Shinji's role.
That first idea was the spark in the firework factory. The main defining thought that came after this is that each environment shot - each background for each scene - is presented in chronological order as almost a CCTV circuit flipping through channels at the beginning. Shinji's father sits in the control room where the supposed CCTV screen doubles as the background for one of the scenes. I've actually considered scrapping a green screen and switching out for a CRT so that I can get the phosphorescence, flicker, and what not when zooming in and zooming out from and towards the screen but holy fuck good luck with that better a green screen and post process the effects.
I have no fucking money for this and it has kept me up for three days straight.
I like Shadowrun. That's about the only fantasy-like thing I have much grounding in. I've read the Bible and other holy texts though. I mostly like philosophy. It turned out that wasn't her name and she lied to me, btw.
She doesn't really talk to me about sexual things.
>>We live in Los Angeles where years of global warming drought has swelled a coming hurricane this week.
It’s not true to say that I got hung up on you, rather on the time and place, for me, where there was only you to prove it. I see your black fashion, like an ocean of night, as a muse. Images that make me wonder. Wonder about you, wonder about me, but hardly ever about us. I admire that dark in you, inside and out. You know some shit about shit, the kind of shit that only knows me because I only seem to get caught up in it.
I finally met you—clear to me now—during the receding of a great tide before a storm. Maybe we were in its calm for a while, and—though the waves keep breaking—I’m not sure it has passed for me.
Time waits for no one, so they say. And I feel like I’ve been eroding against the tide for too long now. A drift and ready to sink if only I could be bothered to let go. Have you ever felt as though you are waiting for something? Impatient. Something like the other shoe to drop? In this way, the future chills me to the bone. Déjà vu comes from the French already seen, while nostalgia comes from the Greek pain of coming home.
>>7601273 How do you know she is a woman then... Are you assuming based on the voice... Also this kind of reminds me of a NYRB book I read last year, Chocky, where this kid is basically possessed by an alien and hears her voice in his head, she specifically chose him to possess because of his mental potential... anyways I'm interested in anything she may have said to you about gender.. is the voice able to differentiate gender.. aside from ethics and morals are there other things it fails to understand... and when you say she doesnt really talk to about that are you implying she has once before
She has a female voice and a female presence or energy. She hasn't said anything about gender. Once she was awake when I was considering using a dildo and she eagerly encouraged me to (but I didn't, because I was somewhat upset with her at the time). I haven't made a full inventory of her understanding, unfortunately.
The anti-psychotics were my choice, and mostly to unscramble my brain in other respects. That's a good point though. At any rate, nothing past the anti-psychotics is going to happen. I'm not going to be institutionalized. My freedom is pretty absolute: my providers all know I carry a gun and the most they can do about it is frown severely. For that matter, Kiyo wouldn't care if I were institutionalized I don't think, she'd just sleep through it.
I want to be educated I want to have fun I ask myself if both can be achieved While neither is achieved My indecision is a crippling malady Yet I persist because I can't let go of my life Am I hardwired and the code cannot be erased Or is fear simply keeping my paralyzed I have so many conflicting thoughts and feelings They change frequently and keep cycling I don't understand why, I don't understand Someone please help me
Why do people care about plot or story? Writing around a certain plot is pointless and makes for nothing more than cheap mass market productions. How characters interact and their emotions are the real important parts in any serious novel.
Wish I had a good friend to bounce creative ideas off of, maybe to write something together. The only guy I know who I think isn't a fucking idiot is the laziest piece of shit ever, so far so that he's philosophically put being a lazy piece of shit at the top of his goals as a human.
I gotta make some new friends. How do people make internet friends anyway? I probably sound like an unpleasant person to be friends with.
>>7595368 I can't be particularly bothered to eat, sleep, masturbate, drink or do anything really without some sort of self reminder that I would go mad or die without them these days. That doesn't seem to be a very compelling reason, though.
I can't fucking sleep so here I am looking at the banal thoughts of strangers as bored as I. Maybe they take this shit seriously, but I can't really judge because I take the bank seriously. Fuck, now I'm rambling. I'll take rambling to reading this shit any day. I wish my eyelids could drop and wane like my ex's waist, but I take a deep breath and stay discontented. I wish I could understand all that I read, so that the abstract ideas currently stewing in my head are ripe for ingestion, and they so gently tumble into a mess of tangible abstraction. I wish for so much yet I'm ready to sacrifice so little. I think I'm afraid. My pulse does not lead me to this conclusion, but that primal oscillating beat is met with a stark reminder that it will soon fade into that universal silence we all fear. Please don't let me lead you astray to say the silence is what makes the eyes sting with tears, it's the fear each beat is as monotonous as the last, never striving nor put under the strain a heart needs to feel alive. Being alive is nothing to the universe and yet it's all we know. It's all we'll ever know and we're wasting time sleeping and keeping ourselves from sleep. I'm afraid I don't know how to truly feel.
I'm trying to think of what's making me so sick. It's either old powerade, fried rice, or my period. Now I'm thinking about how I'm going to be exhausted tomorrow cuz in up so late so I'm getting anxious.
I feel as though someone is watching me. I see shadows of animals in the dark when I'm trying to sleep. I haven't been able to go outside because I am too afraid to, there's too many bad things out to get me. I wish someone would come and be my friend.
Every time I attempt a creative endeavor, I get the strong need that it has to be perfect on the first attempt. Even this shitty post on an anonymous website was edited countless more times in my head rather than in this text box.
It's truly a terrible habit, and yet to overthink things seems to be my default mode of operation.
the only things that interest me in life don't make enough money to justify the hundreds of thousands my parents spent sending me to school throughout my life would be sick if i was into engineering or wanted to go to medical school
>>7601447 >Being alive is nothing to the universe If you take a string out of a tapestry, it is not the same tapestry. Don't be deceived by quantity, any difference is absolute. You said it yourself we fear monotony: understand two things can't be the same.
>I'm afraid I don't know how to truly feel. Why would you need to know?
>>7601457 >I wish someone would come and be my friend. Where do you think we are?
>>7601465 I just thought of an aphorism to dispell this kind of feeling a couple minutes ago but I forgot FUCK.
Anyway, take your time and keep at it. Think of yourself more as a musician, and every word is a note that disappears in its own moment. Patience is everything.
>>7601474 I went to court today for a speeding ticket, and I told the judge, erm... "Let me tell you something, and you listen and you listen good, I'm only gonna say this one time and one time only, I don't repeat myself for nobody," I said. I says... "I'm here to pay a speeding ticket, not to listen to your lectures and hear you run your mouth for an hour." I says "I'm here to pay off my speeding ticket, and I'm here to and I'm here to get my fines out of the way and get the fuck to work." The judge says "You can't talk like that in my courtroom, you're in contempt of court." Then I said, If-I told the judge, "If that's the best you can do, I feel sorry for you." I said "Why don't you just shut your fucking mouth for once and listen." I said "I'm not gonna take any shit." I said "I'm gonna pay my speeding ticket like I said." I walked up to the god damn judge and I hand him my 25 dollars up and I says "Here's my money, now I am leaving." And I left it at that. I... Then, before I left, I turned around and told the judge "I'm here to state who I am and be honest with you." I said "If they thought I was dangerous on the road like you're trying to accuse me of, wouldn't they have taken my license when I first got it? Yes they would." And the judge says "Yeah, you have a point," He goes "You don't need to get loud," I said "Don't get loud?" I says "I've got every right to get loud." I says "You can't do a god damn thing about it, because I'm expressing myself in your court, and there is nothing you can do about it. You think you're God because you have a robe and you can put people up the god damn river for 20 years? Well you're not." And I left it at that.
>>7601482 One cannot be indebted for things given in good faith, nor can return them.
It's beginning to down on me that the process of writing, with all its hardships, might be many times more enjoyable than getting the finished product immediately. And really, I think that stems from seeing things as a reader and not a writer; I aim to write the things I want to read but haven't found. But I can never read my own work as a normal reader would, because I am intrinsically connected to it in a different way. And now that I'm aware of this feeling, perhaps I can put it to rest.
>>7601529 >Probably will have to get an escort. Do it.
The hours turned late as Anon remained fixated on his computer, the soft glow of the screen enveloping his battered face. As he opened the thread his hardened lips pursed slightly as he began, for the first time in years, to write what was on his mind. Only God forgives, as they say- and Anon was doing his hardest to avoid any sort of meta self reflection. In these troubled times, apathy would prove to be his greatest asset. His complete and utter indifference as his prime years slowly passed him by like a battered puppy escaping into the cold violet of night, his body became sloth; his mind hedonistic. As the clacking of the keyboard became audible in the small room where Anon lived his life, he became accosted by a thought: simple and unmolested by his gross cynicism and yet massive, as if to envelope his entire process of thought. But soon, whatever faint glimmer of self respect that pupa of hope could contain was replaced by a voice massive in direction.
"You have been tried by those your better. And you have been found wanting."
I leave for class for another semester and my autism is already flaring up. I'm operating in a frantic state at all times of the day, and it gets harder for me to pretend to be a so-called normal person every day. I have trouble finding any reason to get out of bed everyday, so I start getting panicked when I think about the fact I have to face the outside world again and then the fear keep getting worse.
>>7601999 i know that feel. it keeps me from going to uni. school has been hell for me, always. now i'm 22 and afraid to apply to Uni. i just want a degree in lit and become a recluse writer or a screenwriter. or just kill myself.
I just want to read a story about cool fucking action that's over the top. I'm tired of pseudo-intellectuals rambling on about their sheltered mindsets about an immensely vast and ever-changing world. I want a good novel about giant robots and dragons. I want a short story series about badass guitarists fighting each other with their music. I want a poem about two spies upset that they can't quite tag the other, running out of ammunition, and cursing their own lack of preparation.
I am tired, to death, with armchair philosophy and illiterate goons praising it. I just want to turn my mind off and sink into the languor of cheap thrills and enjoyable adventures.
>>7603286 That's a fair point. If it is not the ever-increasing complexity of the world that we are living in that dwarfs one's ego, it is the endlessly growing cacophony surrounding it that drowns one's joie de vivre. I think we all can relate to your exasperated desire for shallow escapism.
For what it's worth, the first thing on my mind was that the lips in the OP look like an extra-long bent hotdog.
>>7603286 I had a similar reflection in regards to cinema, familia. Cheap, gimmicky horror movies from the 50s-80s are the fucking tits. There's only so much Chris Marker I can digest in one lifetime, you know?
>>7603286 >>7603312 >>7603319 I'm truly glad to see I'm not the only one on this board who resonates with this opinion. I think I'm gonna go pick up some old dinosaur movie or something. Turn my mind off for a moment. See where this takes me.
Universities that focus on diversity tend to become less diverse as a result, for whatever that's worth. I think it's better to just accept people as they are, whatever that actually means, rather than trying to force anything. That way, there's nothing wrong if they decide to pursue one way of life over another, and everything is authentic and unforced.
>>7603286 >pseudo-intellectuals rambling on about their sheltered mindsets about an immensely vast and ever-changing world >novel about giant robots and dragons. I'm attempting to write both of those at the same time atm.
Hey, yo. Against my better judgement I'm going to start documenting all my insanity on https://psychoticdragonrelatedramblings.wordpress.com/ , so bookmark it if you still give a shit. I'll start filling things in later tonight (about four hours from now probably)
>>7603942 >i keep eating even though i know i could peace out at any time That's a good feeling Anon. Accept life on your own terms, make it your choice and not an obligation. But remember, death will NOT grant you peace, because you won't exist anymore.
>>7603983 Well, I'm still doing it because I wanted something to type as practice and trying to transcribe your handwriting is more fun than doing a normal one; if I finish in less than 4 hours I'll post it here or post a pastebin, if you don't mind.
Dunno if you're still here, but I'm halfways done so I'll post my progress. Hopefully you can clarify on the bits I couldn't read.
>>7601205 >I read some of the portable Jung today. It gave me some stirrings of insight, though they are as of yet undeveloped. An interesting question seems to be how I can feel so alone while at the same time feeling so mundane. I feel cut off from society yet I bear the makings of it everywhere in my being. I see now that there was no contradiction. Further perhaps it is not society I am separate from or have a damaged relationship with, my own unconsciousness: or more precisely, the ???ive part of it. Whether I’m running away from it or it’s genuinely damaged, the problem is arguably internal. It is not other people I am afraid of at all. Another hypothesis of interest, this from my Danish friend. He says my anima has been subsumed into my greater self. Odd, since she felt like the greater of the two egos. I told him about a trial I had. I didn’t realize it was a trial until I explained it to him. A voice demanded I kill Kiyohime. I refused. It asked if I would be so vain as to let her drag me to hell. I said yes. I said I would stand before God himself and demand to be sent to hell for her sake. I said that she was my friend and that I’d never kill friend. Not long after this the noise in my head quieted down. Kiyohime became fainter, until she no longer spoke to me at all. Is she now merely a part of me? Non-??? spirit mass in holistic whole? It seems unfair. Worse, I feel I have prostituted her in moments of excess. For my friend’s sake, I had better take better care of myself.
>>7601201 >I’ve thought more about the nature of Kiyohime and my trial. I’ve been thinking; she seems to stand for a great deal all at once. She is my sin, my capacity for sin; my “shadow”. But she also seems to be all of my frustrated qualities at once. My frustrated femininity, my frustrated intellect, my frustrated pride, and so on. Therefore, her diminished presence seems to reflect personal growth and expression. As I read more, do more, I subsume more of her with me. This gives new meaning to the vision I had of the expanding gold. I pacify the dragon by applying my frustrated intellect. Odd then that it is so hard for me to read. It is almost impossible on the other hand for me to do anything feminine. Is it really needed for personal growth? It hurts to contemplate. I have considered what I would say to God about Kiyohime. If she is my sin, she is also my freedom. If she is my freedom, then the dragon is my authenticity. I am whole through her. If growth ends at death, and God’s forgiveness is infinite, surely he would rather his children be whole than good.
>>7601199 >A ragtag assortment of wonderings and thoughts. Heidegger said that small talk (err, idle talk) includes the running after external perspectives through which to understand the self; that this is ???. Yet I am learning, despite missteps, and that fact has to stand in refutation. It strikes me that I believed the breaking of my oath would be the death of my soul. This raises a new and now obvious possibility; Kiyo, as my soul, was acting in self-defense. This explains the possession for the most part. It also explains how I was able to circumvent decades of magical training that are normally needed to contact one’s angel. I am finally getting around to reading Crowley and he makes a good deal of sense. My perspective will undoubtedly develop farther as I read more. I wonder if there was magic in in the ??? ???tions of my “noise”. I will have to study Qaballah in earnest. Kiyohime always berated me, called me stupid and unworthy, childish, worthless, and yet I truly think she loved me. She is such a personal spirit, so thoroughly entangled in me, and for that reason I conclude she is not a tulpa. It now seems to me???ly that I have a great deal of earnest work to do in order to ???ate the fruits of what was only an accident, or perhaps worse than one. The medication may have been a red herring.
>>7601190 >I’m covered in blood and I couldn’t be happier! Kiyo is back. Or at least, it seems as though she is back, which is likely the same thing in such matters. She told me that I’m boring. (This in addition to the usual stupid, useless, and disgusting.) She wanted me to set my car on fire to collect the insurance money. I told her that was bad, and she said so what, we’ve cheated before (and gloriously!) I told her I would probably go to jail, and she said so what, there are cigarettes in jail (cigarettes being a semi-reliable method of invocation). I told her if I go to jail, I can’t finish college and thus break more interesting rules such as by hacking. She assented, but demanded a token from me. She made me cut my arm and completely coat this book with my blood. She may have given me her true name, or she may have lied to me. When I invoked her tonight, she made it clear that she felt it was purposeless; this is why is why she has been absent, coming only during danger. The fact I am disgusting etc. not helping. I know it’s a bad idea but I record her “true name” here: ###. Google says it’s a common fantasy name. Summon me when I’m dead.
I'll be posting the rest when I'm done hopefully this thread is still there and someone's around to read it.
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