Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 4141. page

Ask "does anyone care?" No.

>>7816341
What script?

>>7816354
Ok

>>7818037
Memes

meta meem's

>>7818037
/reddit posted that "/lit's top book" chart and now we've had a flood. It's never been the same.

Murakami. Try Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

>>7816182
Vonnegut, desu.

Awful show, lad.

>>7816192
/thread

>>7818000
I don't know if there even is one. You could always just buy a copy.

>>7818002
It's available on amazon for kindle.
Could you buy it and upload it somewhere please?

>>7818008
No, I don't use kindle

>>7816157
Postmodernism isn't real. Modernism has just been decaying for the past seventy something years.

>>7816157
absurdism (as its name implies) focuses on the absurdity and inherent meaninglessness of life.

postmodernism is more of a complicated issue, and can be seen as an umbrella-term for various things including anti-Enlightenment values (caused by both world wars); capitalism and consumerism; the analysis and death of ideology; etc.

Metamodernism is the present, past and future.

you can find some links to relevant writing about it here as well as some chill metamodern music

https://craigculberton.bandcamp.com/album/book-of-the-damned

The Marble Town – Broken Mirrors

This is supposed to be an alternative start to my rather clunky attempt to write the stories of the adventurers , outcasts , heroes , murderers , monsters and humans which have walked upon the soil of this World.

I – PROLOGUE

“Do you hear everything?” the Moth asked in a bored matter. The way he wrapped his wings around him made him look rather voluptuous. His expression was hidden by the tips of the wings , which formed a mask in front of his face. The odd , face-shaped pattern intensively stared at the person , which still seemed to be within the half-conscious state of dreaming.
“Fine. Take your time.”


I

It was dawn. Morning. Cold. Grey.
The silent cracking of healing rock , like a waterfall of tiny stones.

The Hyena sat in the middle of the plaza , exhausted , terrified.
The walls around her were scratched , had chunks ripped out of them. They were festering like a wound , a gray muddy substance as pus , and slowly growing back into what they were before.
Quadratic chunks of rock looking as if they were crudely beaten into one single mountain , nothing else was to be seen. A village of quadratic or polygonal , crude , solid and gray stone houses.

Taking her improvisatory "mace" leaning on a "bench" made out of miniatures of these very same houses , the Hyena followed what she hit earlier before , carefully.
It took something she needed , and letting it get away today would be a certain loss.
She followed the little punctures on the stony ground , the Golem or whatever it is called around here couldn't get far , the numerous little shards and the dust of black quartz indicated a serious hit. Hopefully.
The irregular beating of stone against stone told the Hyena that the crystalline thief was nearby , hiding in one of these cube-windowed rocks.
To the right. Getting on higher ground.

The hunter effortless slipped through the window since there was nothing resembling a door.
The Interior had a single staircase on the left , with an angular , black and shiny humanoid silhouette trying to climb upwards. It was made out of diamond-shaped black and slim crystals , which didn’t only hold together in a movable structure , but seemed to shift into one another as if it had no mass. Instead of hands and feet , there were only the pointy ends of its arms and legs.
The shards around the left hip were shattered , dusted , losing material whenever they were moved around.
This time there was no screeching , only trying to climb up the stairs onto the roof. It didn’t seem to be in panic or pain , just doing the regular routine the Hyena observed: Roaming , scratching the walls , and looking for things that look as if they didn’t belong to this place.
Just like the satchel hooked up on a protruding crystal on its back.
Only slower now.

One powerful swing. The iron pipe with the clunky , cylindrical end-piece smashed onto the head , or the body part that most closely resembled a head. The crude and already blunt spikes welded onto the mace connected with the head and dealt some material abrasion , the Golem managed to dodge the attack well enough to let it glance off without further damage. A pointed , sharp forearm thrusted into the Hyena's side.
The point didn’t penetrate the skin , but the impact caused her to lose her breath for half a second. She barely dodged the next attack directed at her head and stepped back a few times , building up distance to her crippled enemy. The grip had the length of her leg ; she put her hand on the lowest part of the grip while her target was running at her like an angry old man. Feigning a step forwards and immediately retreating , she tricked the Golem to swing at her in a full body motion. A long , one-handed strike with the mace first broke off the right arm and destroyed its balance , the two-handed follow-up smashed the head like a fishbowl.
The parts that were shifted into one another instantly became rigid , making the structure fall down like a solid sculpture , the mid shattering in half on impact.

The Hyena leaned against the wall. She took in a few deep breaths to calm herself down , and only now felt the pain of the hit. The strike just felt like a hard punch , but now the swelling of her right loin became noticeable. The skin looked unharmed , but the focused impact could have very well ripped through her muscle , at least that's what it felt like.
Her arms shivered from the amount of energy put in the last strike.

I need to calm down. Ignore the pain. No big deal.

She sat down against the wall for a few minutes , it took a bit until she could breath normally again. It still hurt like a nasty bruise , but the internal wound seemed to be growing back together already.
After a few moments , she stiffly walked towards her opponent, leaning on her weapon, retrieved the satchel from the pile of broken obsidian , and confirmed if anything was missing.

The tiny copper coins , the powder that is supposed to help clotting bleeding wounds , the red soapstone , her lunch , a pleated piece of parchment and the roll of bandages.
Everything there.
She went up and got going - in the hope that this incident did not steal too much time.

Climbing out of the shallow window ,walking back the path she came from , orienting herself at the crimson marking the soapstone left on the wall, everything looked the same.
Odd and familiar , lifeless and living, dream-like and maybe a bit nightmarish. Rectangular shapes , beaten into a single stone. More like boxes with windows , and a rare triangular roof here and there. Interiors either making no sense at all or completely empty rooms. It looked like someone who had no idea of houses tried to beat them into stone. Merely emulating a concept that had no relevance to them.
The windows were silent observers , sitting together in exactly one window-width from one
another. Despite the rough craftsmanship , everything was in a consistent geometry - even the crudeness of the walls almost seemed like a repeating sequence , but changed back to chaos whenever one would concentrate on it.

The Hyena fixed her hair , putting the black , greasy , long strands back into an untidy braid and adjusted her bandana. It was better to keep going now. During noon , it would be too dangerous to walk around in the open , the illusions would become too intense to safely navigate , let alone try to fend off another attack.
The braid was draped loosely around her neck and shoulders , and tucked under her cloak. It had the same color scheme as her surroundings , even imitating the shadows on the crude stone with its pattern , and was long enough to completely hide underneath it.

>>7817631
>>But anyway, is there a more superior philisophy to life than stoicism?
yes, the dhamma, since it is a user manual to establish, in daily life and in the jhana, what is called equanimity

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calmness is overrated. It's a means to an end, not an end in itself. Do you think you were put here on Earth to be calm and still and peaceful and quiet your whole life?
The value of calmness is that it keeps you from getting bogged down by molehills, so that you can set your sights on a mountain.
Remember: the goal is not to eliminate emotion; only to ensure that you are not a slave to emotion.

>>7817631
I'm reading the sources now; who do they reference? I read Epictetus and Cicero's friendship one, and I just started Seneca; any others?

Yes, very possibly.

>>7816169
Thankyou. In return for your kind assistance, I in turn recommend Sheepshagger by Niall Griffiths

>>7816123
McCarthy's best book imo

Womb
Den
Nest
Enclave
Sanctuary
Pod

>>7815965
All good, except I'd prefer a phrase that isn't shared with another meaning, and won't be confused with that meaning also. Something unique to this.

>>7815947
Panic room.

Alone Together, Tangled Web, Dark Net, Data and Goliath, @War, The Machine Stops.

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>>7815853
Marshall McLuhan was already writing about it back in the 50s

>>7815853

I meant novels by the way, sorry should have specified.

>>7817386
what do you mean by morals?

>>7817386
My Twisted World

>>7817386
This isn't a deep cut or anything, but Catch-22 is pretty close to what you're looking for.

>>7815729
Should I kill myself or have a differance?

>>7815763
deconstruct that shit!

He was German

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ztOV2wrrkY

Because he was born.

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>>7817143
/gsg/ pleasantly surprise me sometimes

>>7815712
>he had the internet when he was 6
Get out of here, junior

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>>7815717
correction not the internet, a magazine.

>>7815712
There is a reason why they teach rhyming poetry in elementary school. You had to learn about structures, syllables, homophones and so on. Your understanding of poetry, although correct, was completely irrelevant for the task you had.
I will grant that the teacher could have said something more along the lines of "you're right little anon, but you will learn non-rhyming poems when you are older", but considering you were being such a contrarian little bitch, she probably made the right call. The last thing you want is having 20 little shits turn in homework done wrong and have to argue with them because of one mr. smartypants.

>>7817135
that's what you get for reading none of his books and trying to bullshit a statement about him

>>7817135
Memes don't work irl?? This is why I'm content with just posting on 4chan

>whenever i say dfw's name, i shout it like in that video
>"this paper explores themes of alienation and despair in infinite jest, a novel by DAVID FOSTER WALLAAAACE!!!"
>quieter mind you so i dont get thrown out of the class
>fill reports and shit with as many instances of his full name as i can
>do stuff on dfw just so i can yell his name
>no one gets it
>no one realizes this is a cry for help