>>7650485 Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible.
>>7650485 We were at the DMV but neither of us had cars. A couple of college students in New Orleans. I noticed her almost as soon as I got in, and didn't say a word to her until I stepped out with my ID. She was sitting on the curb waiting for a cab when I said, "You go to Tulane, right?" The rest, I leave up to your curiosity. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever get over her.
The first time I saw the moon aI was fifteen years old, I don't know how old she was, she never told me, never said much to tell your the truth. Anyhow, I was smitten; I offered to buy her a drink but she demurred, just kinda sat there beaming with those coquettish little craters; you know the ones. I say "you gonna stay there all night?". Again she says nothing, but she doesn't call me a jerk or turn away so I keep on. "Your a little teaser" I tell her, just teasing. She hovers there, again silent but not put off looking at all. I get bold and I start jacking it, I'm beating the meat like it raped my fucking sister; she's still there just fucking hanging there all silver and tricksy. I can't help myself: I start yelling, " you got me going baby I tell you" I'm chanting it now, " you got me going moon sanchez" or whatever he second name is, I'll ask an astrologer. Anyhow I cum like a can of carbonated milk shook up and with a pin knocked into it. My dad's hollerin at this point "what the fuck are you doing get inside" but I'm chill. Never did find out her real name or her age, and my dad still calls the whole thing "a serious incident" but what the hey, I'm a /lit man.
I saw that Grace which is of woman in a startling and perfect vision, as when on a quiet walk a man is surprised by felicity; and she was a mystery of clay and holy fire, glowing in the daylight—faery of a sunlit wood, goddess out of heaven!—and her neck was soft, and white.
>>7650926 >Feels like you're trying to imitate Lolita but failing. I haven't read Lolita and I have but little respect for any literature after the first world war, but it's cool that you assume shit. Author is dead, right? So I guess I can't critique your criticism, but it feels to me like you're dead wrong
She was floss-haired. She had a hat over most of head, and her neck was barely choking its way out of her collar. She was short enough for me to jump on top of. I'm trying to remember if she smiled or laughed at me, taking a picture after the fact couldn't have and didn't help. She blushed like she had been punched.
I saw her get on the bus. She was over dressed... In a red sexy dress. Blonde hair hanging down. Red lip stick. I fell in love and stared at her along with all the other passengers I'm sure. I missed my stop and didn't care. She got off downtown and I did another lap around the bus route thinking about her.
I was on public transit and messaging her online, we hadn't met at that point, when a girl who looked quite a bit like her sat across from me on the train, but I couldn't see her face very well because she was facing away. Every time I sent her a message this girl would look down at her phone and she said she was going through a tunnel right as I did, so eventually I called out her name and she had been wondering if I was who I was until that moment as well. We've been together since then.
>>7650485 Her face seemed excited for somebody else. In retrospect this was probably my filter of arbitrary angst one can only experience as an adolescent. But instead of greeting somebody else that morning, instead of lightening up some other attention starved teen's day, awful for reasons which are always arbitrary, she threw her unrelenting cheer into my eyes. At first I resisted. Not because I felt unworthy, although that may have been a lesser element. The lack of reception came from fear. Fear of potentially having to care about someone else, having to learn to feel another person beneath my skin. This was momentary, however, and gave way to the intoxication of romance as soon as she said hi. I realized it was the first moment I'd ever experienced where I could know another person's intentions truly. If only our encounters had stopped right then and there, it might have been a worthwhile love story. As it is, the tale is just more useless claptrap from high school which exists only as a half remembered dream.
>>7650834 The student body is comprised of a bunch of fun loving, competitive, insane, rich as fuck kiddos from literrally everywhere in america but new orleans. don't expect to make an impression if youre not a great social networker. i didn't really care for the English classes.
The word saw, what exactly do you mean? Because I definitely saw her with my eyes 4 years ago. But that wasn't all. As I took time to know her, to explore who she was, I saw inside of her my eyes could never spot: myself.
In a moment of hesitation, a loss of consciousness, gravity's strength doubled, an effect felt mainly on the weight of my face as it stretched down from my forehead, and in the heavy numbness of my arms. All the while my heart raced to keep up with the demand, pumping blood as fast as it could to hold up the face and restore power to the arms. There wasn't enough for words. Standing, frozen, was the only option, the only real option.
>>7650485 Joaquin Phoenix couldn't act for shite but Scarlett Johansen's sexy voice made up for it. It had an interesting idea but wasn't carried through in a particularly interesting way. Amy Adams had decent acting skills. Can't wait to see her in something else. Overall, 6/10.
she was dancing and kept looking back, don't remember too much of that night. i still clearly remember the feel of her ice cold, bony hand the first time she took mine though, about a week or so after we first met this was. amazingly still so very clearly despite it being over 6 years ago and my intoxicated state. it did not last for long because i was a fairly significant beta male and the love chemical that early in life can make you act like a real spaz
I had always thought of love as a spook, a social construct, a fairy tale even, that, if it had any basis in fact, as your typical r9k foreveralone type, just wasn't for me. THEN I SAW HER FACE NOW I'M A BELIEVER
The whole place stunk, but I'd been in worse public bathrooms. In fact, sickly yellow light half-reflected off dingy linoleum really gets me going. It took me a bit to realize there was a reason this particular bathroom had no urinals, but drunk me didn't quite care. My chosen stall was reluctant to open; a swift kick sent the door flying inwards, then outwards with a soft thud, like it had hit someone's knee. That's when I saw her, pale goddess feet up on the toilet seat, the white porcelain like a supplicant ghost aching for her stool. Bony ankles tapered outwards to her milky legs, smooth as spider's silk, a sex doll made by Arachne just for me. Her thighs and waist had that perfect Renaissance pudge, gentle Irish hills of paper skin. Her breasts were nothing to shake a stick at, but I'll admit I just glanced at them; I'm an ass man, as are all men of taste. Her meek shoulders gently curved to a perfect neck, blemishless, without wrinkle, like professionally made bedsheets. I wanted so badly to kiss that neck. Her face had that strong nose, the pouty lips fit for marble, the demure eyes, substantial cheeks which curved unbroken, like the bottom bend of the moon, under her small chin and back up the other side. She even had the bun-tied hair, held down by a thin headband, soft and wavy, gently tossed by the winds of the Aegean. And then I saw her dick.
I found my thrill on blueberry hill. On blueberry hill, when I found you. The moon stood still on blueberry hill. On blueberry hill, when I found you. The wind in the willows play loves sweet melody. But all of those vows you made, were never to be.
Although we're apart, you a part of me still. For you were my thrill, on blueberry hill.
>>7650485 The flowers that bloom in the spring have nothing to do with the case. I've got to take under my wing a most unattractive old thing with a charicature of a face and that's what I mean when I say or I sing "Oh, bother the flowers that bloom in the spring."
Psych 101, 14th of August. I saw her, she didn't see me. I stared at her too long, trying to muster even a scrap of courage, failing miserably. Six years of bitter loneliness, easily eschewed with a smudge of spunk.
It is impossible for me to recall when it was that I first took notice of her. I only know that one day, my gaze alighted upon the young girl, and I was taken with her at once. She had an angelic beauty that I had never seen before in such unadulterated form. There was about her and in her movements a sense of self-possession, which forming a union with her delicate features, effected this impression.
I was an inexperienced 17 year old in a depressed state, having been absent from most of my junior year. I was being tutored through my classes at my own home. She was teaching me one of the classes (health). I can't remember the first time I saw her all that well, but I do remember when I was first stunned by her face. She was wearing white and sitting across from me at my dining room table, she said something about parents not understanding their children. It was sunny, and she was so starkly beautiful; tall and skinny, with long black hair, dark brown eyes, dark eyeliner and fair skin. I looked down at the table instinctively because it was too much for my brain to handle.
She walked in, dressed for the show. I was a little buzzed, so the shock, instead of making my heart skip a beat, made my dick tingle.
Her almond hair cascaded around her and pooled gracefully on her milky-white shoulders. The dress she was wearing was salmon-colored, and it exposed more than a glimpse of her tight, smooth legs. Her bright blue eyes and perky nose were cheerful, and when she smiled, she truly beamed.
My first thought wasn't really a thought. Rather, I pictured ramming my cock up her ass while fondling her soft rounded breasts. I snapped out of it as soon as she introduced herself to me, though. I stuttered out my name, and took a swig of beer to hide my face while I regained composure.
She wanted to drive, so Pete and I rode with her. She drove a torino red late model corvette. I felt like I was in a dream, because I knew how much those cars sold for. Over Pete's protests, I took shotgun. I was drooling over all the cool shit on the dashboard when she giggled and nodded towards the giant center screen.
"Never seen one of these before?" I smiled and shook my head.
She handed me the aux cable with a look that said "don't fuck up, this is a privilege." I looked through my phone and found the best driving song I knew, coincidentally by the same band we were going to see. She revved the engine, and we were off.
The LA scenery went by in a flash, and a voice in the back of my head was insisting that I was going to die. I took a peek at the speedometer. It read 87. We were on a residential road. What the fuck!? I leaned back and listened to the music, content at least with the fact that if I died, I'd be next to a beautiful girl.
We exchanged a few words at the stoplight, where I called Pete a faggot bitch for telling her to slow down. Now was the time for bold action, I NEEDED to make her mine. She was radically different from the girls I had been used to hooking up with. The energy she radiated off was stronger than an amphetamine high.
We made it to the show in one piece, surprisingly. The lights went off in the venue, and the opener came out. Everybody screamed. They were way better than I expected. Halfway through their set, I felt a warm friction on my jeans, and looked down. I smelled her flowery fragrance, and realized I was dancing with her. I ran my hands down her sculpted body. Lightning ran through my veins. During a break in the music, I told her I'd be right back.
I ran and told Pete. He was a bit dissapointed, but eventually relented when I asked him to find another ride home so I could finish the deal. I thanked him for being a good friend and ran back into the sweaty mass. We danced for the rest of the night, and she took me home to fuck her brains out, which I did. I woke up next to her in an expensive condo near the beach. I was late for class. I didn't really care, but I felt like I would sour things if I stuck around, so I wrote my number on a post-it and told her to call me. She never did.
I attended Mass for the first time in eight years, at 20, with a housemate. I made the first prayer that wasn't a rote Catholic gesture of my life. I prayed: "Lord: I wonder if I'm right in reaching out to you. But if I am, and you wouldn't mind doing something to let me know, I'd appreciate it." And she turned around and asked for a hymn book. It was a hell of a thing.
She was dumpy, was the first word that came to mind. Not ugly, but certainly not attractive. Still, she was the first and only one that would have me. She was looking for someone to replace an ex of hers, and I was as lonely as humanly was possible, so we used each other.
I'm not sure when she fell for me, but I remember when I fell for her. She had just called me by her ex's name- not mid-coitus, but in the mental blur of just having woken up. She was mortified, and I held her to comfort her since I didn't rightly care, about her or her ex.
She was so delicate. So scared that I might leave her or be angry over what had happened. I had always had a thing for broken birds, and that was that.
Sex was overrated by any means, but still better than masturbating. She was thick, soft, pillowy. Despite this, we tore my frenulum the first time we fucked. It certainly wasn't what kept me with her. No, what I was interested in was feeling like I was with someone. Like I said, I was lonely- few friends, no SO's until that point unless you count childish week-long romances.
Being, in part, a art of another person? Having them be a part of you? Knowing that I wasn't jut myself anymore? It was bliss at its least, and I was addicted.
There really isn't a satisfactory ending to this. I realized she was making me a stupider, less stable person after a pregnancy scare and the subsequent realization that she was the reason we had never used a condom, and I made a choice between seasick happiness and level apathy.
She still contacts me, sometimes. I could get back together with her, if I chose to. I don't. There were a couple trysts, moments of weakness shortly after we parted, but not anymore.
Now the idea of being in a relationship, of having sex, is terrifying. I don't know why.
This shit right here is precisely why entire guides and books have been made about keeping your writing simple and sweet, not pretentious and purple prosey to the point it physically makes people cringe.
It was early, and I was late for a flight. Afterwards, on the way to the airport I remarked with sudden clarity to my friend how hot she was. I had no idea how compatible she would be, but I daydreamed about asking her out the whole trip and when I got back she said blushed deeply and said yes.
The bang of metal pulled my head away from my meal towards the door she just struggle to squeeze through. She was beautiful as she glided across the room...all three hundred pounds of her. I had to have her. It was by no chance that I would find her here. Should parked her mobile wheelchair in front of the counter and barked out her order of four big macs, 20 nuggets and a extra large soda to the employee. So firm. Just my kind of woman. I wanted to get up and talk to her right then as she drove to the drink station but my massive member prevented me. I must admit I was also nervous which is why I failed to make contact with that glorious beast that day. I returned to that McDonalds all that week until I finally caught her that Thursday.
>>7650485 She was unassuming. We were together in a sterile little classroom. It was early, but I slept well. We were all listening together to our advisors. I looked around to see everyone. She was down the table a way in a black t-shirt. She was cute and thin with big, dark eyes. Then she smiled. Her whole face opened up, invitingly warm and full of happy self-assurance.
I didn't even fucking realize until waaaaaay later that she was gonna be a significant figure in my life.
>>7650691 This was way too verbose. For all my reading and writing over the years, this has got to be the worst. Seriously, you know the reason why you take English classes in high school? It's to avoid this type of writing. Holy -- learn to just give a concise, powerful and actually understandable piece of work.
I couldn't finish it. And please, learn how to use various punctuations -- it lets the reader breath, so to say. Also, variation in sentence.
They were jiggling and what a pair, then she sat and as I tried to catch some side (skin or cotton), it hit me: the long shirt was to hide them. The desirability so excessive as to become hidrance sparked me so, that at once something inside was pierced, letting the world in, and then flame became sun, real purity, transcendent; so onwards I would wait for many mornings, scared that the day might not come again.
>>7650485 Her cunt became the world and she was like a beautiful steak that you can get two of for a cheap price which when you possess it you think of nothing else. She waltzed over to the bed like a vendor who sells you cream pies and you continuely ask for more. She slipped into the bathroom first to freshen up like a fresh and tasty peach. Then she began shitting and shitting and shat more. She shat water like it was shitting so much shitting she did.
Beauty, as if I never saw it before. Pale almost pearl skin, lips pink as a rose, White shimmering hair that was so long and straight without any imperfection. Her body looked fragile but her posture spoke strongly. Beauty. Is this what it is? A word I had used for my mother, but now has a second meaning that I can feel within my heart. She looked in my direction with her big silver eyes, smiled (oh god were those dimples?) and continued on her way... I've got to see her again.
I've met him in all his glory when he sustained on the passions and dreams of his world unknown to mine. Even though he was just a youth of twenty just as I, to me he was a figure of light emerging from the depths of the vibrant worlds I couldn't gaze at without shivering, me a mere mortal and he, in my eyes a god annoyingly unaware of his godhood.
He was young, and pretty as a girl, so much so that I was certain he could not be interested in women. Regardless of this he was well beyond my reach. But then one evening I glanced up to find him staring at me; hastily, as though he had been caught, he looked away.
>>7655237 I don't see why the fact that it's Joyce should change the opinion of any of those people. Especially without the context that passage is actually in. I love JimmyJ, but, that's not a reason that should dissuade people from reacting to the work organically. Though it is true there is the framework of cynicism while posting on the site to begin with. How to escape these influences?
>>7655304 Different anon but I think the point is that theoretically these Anons act patrician for liking Joyce and then they shat on him. My point is that we have no way of knowing if they do so they might not even be the same who act patrician.
>>7650485 It was mesmerizing. I asked her if she knew where the room we had to go to was, and she didn't. She asked people at the informational terminal about it, and I looked at her face whilst she was talking. I was enthralled; Drawn in by her damn green eyes that still continue to clutch me and refuse to let me go.
I didn't fall in love at all the first time I saw her. To me she looked a couple of nice features above plain. With freckles, a comforting laugh and hourglass plumpness. She was my friends gf at the time so I didn't think more of her than I would've thought of a sister or a niece. I doubt that I even bothered looking at her ass. Falling for another man's girl really is a pointless waste of time. I fucked her a year after they broke up tho
I don't remember the first time I saw her. She entered my life without any real consequence, she was just someone I knew and she was as irrelevant to me as all of my other friends were. Three years later, when I saw her for the last time, the circumstances couldn't be more different.
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