ITT: post your favourite thing you have ever written

You may be memeing but i like it. (This is a comment on your picture, not the favourite thing i've written). Nor was that. Nor was that. Nor was that. x∞

>>7439430
thanks it gets exponentially worse after that paragraph though

>>7439420
Such thing doesn't exist, I hate everything I have written. I'm almost finishing this notepad and already planning on burning it or throwing it away like the last one.

How do I overcome this?

>>7439447
...should I even?

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>>7439420
I'm not going to post it here, because it was 2500+ words and prose-wise not very strong.

But conceptually i'm really happy with a short-story I wrote. It was a semi-scifi world where music has been condemned. The protagonist is an aging musician who's only job is to record all existing music of his speciality at an archive and then to destroy the existing sheetmusic etc.

But i wrote the story using a variety of different fonts, italics, underlining, capitalization, and syntax in order to mimic the idea of timbre in the rhythm of writing. Each small section had a musical heading/notation that represented the intended effect it was to have, and i had tons of musical references interspersed such as chance music and 3:44.

The intention being to illustrate the flexibility of music and that there's even a level of art within silence.

I got an A+ on it but it was probably because I had to print out literally 2-3 pages of purely explanation for all the references that i had to music, notation and mythology.

>>7439447
post something here and i'll tell you if its actually bad or not

>>7439447
Unbeknownst to your critical eye you may have something wonderful come editing.

u may have read 'phallic monsters' from the legacy of totalitarianism in a tundra 2..

>>7439447
Word documents are tiny dude. If you delete the sentence you've JUST written then don't both to try and save it, but if you're deleting what you come back to eat time just resist the temptation and make sure you set up a folder.

Even if you write 10 pages of pure shit that only has 1 paragraph worth saving, its worth being able to look it over and see you're improvement and to take the gems from the dirt.

>>7439454
Please tell me you used comic sans and papyrus

>>7439420
It was a short story about old men who all reminisce over a tv show they saw as children but each one remembers it differently and views it differently retrospectively

i don't write much

Watering riptide edge oblivion. Born hopeful baby birds nest. Into void sky vacuum swallow. Preach kind life, with wings over land and sea. Split red the sphere, ploowmate, oyster hollow breach. Swept sparrow swift Ra ran crest clods. Wake slipt past waves crashes cracks dawn. Angles sine-like, like, like larks seeking respite from the dirge of dissonant decay.

>>7439454
>But i wrote the story using a variety of different fonts, italics, underlining, capitalization, and syntax in order to mimic the idea of timbre in the rhythm of writing

You made me take a breath through my teeth

It's shit but bare with me:

The blood on the street had scabbed over. The red fluid that had once spilled gloriously from the bodies of the executed had been reduced to a repulsive and depressing brown.

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>>7439464
>>7439420
>>7439454

Alright. I'll post a small screen shot. I mean, it was pretty much the first short-story I wrote but this is a small excerpt, no bully pls.

>>7439503
Well I like it
desu

>>7439485
Are you Stefan Burnett?

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I only write silly fanfic, but I quite like this paragraph to be honest
pls no bully

>>7439508
Just looking over it through all my old documents I've noticed so many errors in syntax and awkward phrases, but i'm happy with some of them.

Thank you though!

>>7439510
yes but why

When they came. I was the Lion.!
...
Art
...
Define
...
Subjugation
...
Empathy
..............

We all are and have one within the other relating to the self of higher kinds through the purview of the soul both infinite and finite and inside and outside.

We have the power to be powerless with one another.

"Breathe Deep, Breathe and Be Love."

That's my favorite thing I've written.

And I never want to get off this bus
I'm constantly going
Without any effort
To my next destination
I'll get there eventually
If it's the last thing I do
And I'll see
You
And you'll see me
Too
And hopefully
We can find
Some peace of mind
In the middle of the trees
In the creases of my knees
Between my shoes and the ground
Through the notes in the sound
You open your mouth
And I grab your hand
And I tell you
I wish
I'd been a better man
I know
Says you
I know, I know, I know
That's why you'll never grow
That's why you'll always show
That's what lets us know
Your heart's dripping
Over your sleeve
Sturdy cotton works wonders
Your ignorance stretches
Vast distances
You've travelled the world
Aren't you proud?
Take your trophy
Down below the ground
And hear the words
Echo through the soil
He's in a better place
He's in a better place
He's in a better place

>>7439548
worthy of a pitchfork bnm ttbh

>>7439557
Angsty, I know.
Wouldn't say it's my favorite thing I've ever written, but that's all that I've got on my phone right now.

>>7439544
barf

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I don't mean to sound edgy, but I really dislike everything I write. But I love writing moreso than reading, so it becomes a strange love/hate relationship.

I don't really think anything i've written deserves to be gratified, but the best gratification i've gotten was for a collection of 21 poems that I gave to an ex-girlfriend. She cried while reading them.

One of the poems is actually greentext, another one is just a page long rant. It's really pathetic, one of the poems pretty much complains about the friendzone. All of them are shit, though. I hate the fact that she likes the poetry almost moreso than the poetry itself.

These two that i'm posting are the least worst of the compilation. Please shit on these things
--
5th Floor Lights and Drinks and Presents and Conversation

We do this each year,
grab and gather up,
lovely human beings,
into a tall winter room.
The people who,
with their present smiles,
and unobstructed laughter,
dance around a green tree
and dance to beats and poetry.
All the while you,
selflessly prepare a meal,
worth all the passion you cook it with,
with flavours that absorb your love.
Every friendly friend,
looks at you,
cherishing their dinner,
and their greatest champion,
who brought them all together.

Suddenly, the many drinks you mixed dryly,
and the crazy characters,
whom you approached slyly,
all spiral slowly in the unforgettable night,
of freely spinning light,
and drinks,
and presents,
and conversation.


----
Remembrance

I'd like to be,
more than a footnote,
in your memory book.

My life deserves an,
arm note.
No, at least a thigh.
Something large enough,
to remember days,
gone by.

And if you're cold,
burning memories to stay alive,
let my ledger at least be second,
or third.

And if love was once the word,
then speak it two,
or three,
times more.

>>7439599
>I hate the fact that she likes the poetry almost moreso than the poetry itself.

What did he mean by this?

>>7439631
I feel like this too when my girlfriend cries when I play the songs I write for her even though I know they're shit.

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>>7439599
>no regular meter

GARBAGE

NOT POETRY

GO BACK TO GRADE SCHOOL

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>>7439599
Actually started lifting my eyebrow in disapproval right around the part
>lovely human beings
but then I honestly enjoyed it
> Suddenly, the many drinks you mixed dryly,
and the crazy characters,
whom you approached slyly,
all spiral slowly in the unforgettable night,
of freely spinning light,
and drinks,
and presents,
and conversation.

This part kind of reminds me a bit of O'Hara
The other one was cool too. Keep up the good work anon and don't forget that the important thing is that you resist the temptation to throw it all in the trash because there will always be someone who appreciates it and solemnly that gives it a right to exist

everybody in this thread should just give up

>>7440553
>all that terrible charcoal and branch brush.
Y I K E S

>>7439503

babby's first 1984 imitation

>>7439569

>barf

possibly the worst word in the english language use vomit like a civilized man

>>7439420
He quipped and quivered, and quail he ate, and I shall quote him now. For he said, "I have an appointment at three and must not be late!"
>here you go

White Elephant

A hope.
A long and lasting pull
To tie that wrapped gift shut.

Truly it seems
Substantiality,
Fortissimo

Enervate,
The type of pull you didn't want.
A gift you'd rather receive

Never would you wish this boon upon me
Upon us
Upon the aspiration of a friend

But this gift we share like Mom's Christmas vacuum
First used then wrapped and recycled again.
A happy little trifle that we remember not

And when the time comes, be it boredom or brevity
We pass the present onward
Or toss it in the trash

>>7439420
Went through my graduate thesis... remembering that experience is unpleasant in general. This is the start of a long poem about modern idleness involving a voodoo god. Rhyme scheme is intentional, but I think I may balance out the meter better at some point.

Expedition from bed to couch is a troubled art.
Feet placed at soft incline
over papers and plans when the abrupt bells chime.
Mr. Samedi stood there, leaning on red frame,
requesting woolen socks and a smoke,
his black soles up on the recliner before my lashes yoke.
The tails of his jacket trail the cushions, sunglasses reflect croix
and the beige walls, all quite out-of-place atop my Lèse-Boy.

Asking for some rum to follow, I insisting it only eleven,
he insisted back with still sunken-stare.
Spirits pour over commercials, his bony fingers point past air.
I turn to an article on shearing daisies,
the gardener smiling beside barren stems, chlorophyll gore,
the buds held high as white-gold trophy of war.
As the click-click of channel flipping ends at grunts and pants.
“Now this is fucking living!” escapes thin lips, so I avert my glance.

>>7439503
hunger games tier writing

With a slight readjustment, his slippery snake slithered out of his trousers. I firmly gripped it with two hands and began to move to and fro. Hoping it was the right time, I put the snake into my mouth. I began to hear a rattling sound and a wave of fear rushed over me. The snake bit. Goodnight, sweet prince.

>>7439420
Sometimes sand gets locked in your head and you make it into a human pearl. - Me

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Posting a short excerpt from my masterpiece.

>>7442529
This isn't very sexy at all.

>>7440834
>modern idleness involving a voodoo god

I am digging the fuck out of this premise. Not sure what exactly to make of the poem though. I enjoyed it though.

>>7440775
I like the sound of this one, but what is it about (I am a terrible reader of poetry)?

>>7440757
Clamn dever.

>>7439541
I'm pretty sure this means nothing. The last two lines went over my head at least.

>>7439524
This is too good for fanfiction. Very much enjoyed this.

Also, I'm pretty sure it's Gregor, and not George Samsa.

>>7439509
I don't know German but I read it out loud anyway. I like it.

>>7439500
It's not bad to be honest.

>>7442528
not really. the in media res opening they've used reminds me more of philip k dick

>>7439503
>story starts with the main character waking up

This is like the biggest literary cliché of them all. You can do better man, come on.

>>7440775
>>7442609
I wrote it with the thought that the gift is youth. When people settle down and have kids, they don't really use it anymore and it becomes theirs, a hand me down of sorts. A beautifully wrapped gift that I open to find something not as special as what I wanted. I can choose to bring another person into this world with the gift or throw it away and spare that potential child the disappointment, but in that case I wouldn't know whether or not they'd have enjoyed it more than me. We give this gift away when our youth dies.

>>7442657
This is a beautiful point of view. And the last three lines of the poem become incredibly powerful, knowing it's about youth.

not my absolute favorite but something from the east coast last summer

Everyone leaves in the harsh light
When their parents go to work,
They can sleep this off undisturbed
What is summer to them today?
The golden curtain crawls over the bay
And the silhouettes walk in circles
What must we do today,
And where must we go?
It's so miserable in the city
Filthy ghosts haunting a filthy coast
A chain of excluding islands
A toll road between toll roads
Nothing under the sun is free
But what last night hid away
And what everyone heard

>>7439503
I liked it, but you need to learn how to use a semicolon.

>>7439524
This is really good. Stop writing fanfiction and apply yourself.

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Not my favourite, but I quite like it.

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Off the top of my head, I like this one. Might be deluding myself though.

Any feedback?

>>7443369
Tienes un typo

>>7442609
Someone's been reading Ulysses

Still tweaking this before I try to record over the winter break

back up on the mic again?
KOLSTI AND THE BANDITS STRIKE AGAIN

CAPTCHA MONEY RANDOM LETTERS
FUCK A BITCH AND GET THAT CHEDDAR
AUTOMATED SKYPEs IS SEXY
FUCK A BITCH WHO TRY TO TEXT ME

SIMULATED WEBCAM BITCHBOTS ON MY DICK
OMEGLE CLICKBAIT FROSTING ON MY PINKPINK LIPS
I GOT EVERY GOOD MOVIE EVERY EPUB ON MY HARDDRIVE
HUNDRA GRAND IN STOLEN ALBUMS BITCH CALL ME CARMINE
MOFUCKAS CALL ME STIRNER BITCHES ON MY EGO
HOES a FUCK ME OVAH THEY HOENN ME LIKE TREECKO
BITCH DAS POKEMON BITCH DAS A TYPO
LOOK AT MY hands IM THE FIVE-six MICHAEL
FUCK A LITTLE FAT GIRL CALL THAT BITCH HAMLET
PUSSY KINDA SALTY CALL THAT HAM SANDWICH
FUCK GNARLS BARKLEY BITCH IM GNARLS OAKLEY
PALMS SO PALE BITCH CALL ME BRANDON STOKLEY
I'm like BRANDON ROY WITHOUT THE ARTHRITIS
YOUNG AND IM CRAZY BITCH CALL ME TITUS
I'm like TAO LIN IN MOTOWN MIXED WITH XIAOLIN SHOWDOWN
DAMN IM SO TEXAS MEET ME AT THE HOEDOWN
SORRY IF IM YELLING BUT THE BEAT IS SO LOUD

Bitch CALL ME HOLDEN I GIVE YOUR GIRL THE TIME
HOES ON MY TRACTATUS I LOOK LIKE WITTGENSTEIN
IF IM WEARING GREEN GLASSES DOES A LEMON TURN TO A LIME
SUBJECTIVE PERSPECTIVE BITCH DIS IS MINE:

I FIGHT TYPOS WITH TAE BO
TYPOS AND TAE BO
TYPOS AND TAE BO

MIDDLE NAME D SO YOU KNOW I GOT A BIG DICK
FIRST NAME K SO I KINDA FUCK WITH KENDRICK
SPITTING WITH A LISP SO I LOVE MODEST MOUSE
IM UP IN YOUR GIRLS ROOM RIGHT WHEN YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE
RAP REAL LOUD SO THEY SAY I SOUND LIKE DEATH GRIPS
BUT GOVERNMENT PLATES IS THE ONLY ONE I MESS WITH
TALKING BOUT ALLELES TALKING BOUT GENOTYPES
BITCH SUCK MY DICK CAUSE I GOT THE BIG DICK PHENOTYPE
kill your favorite author, bitch call me Roland
people think I'm awful, yeah I'm James Dolan
Got a perfect score on my SAT Reading
And they said if I were white I'd only need a 750
Isn't that nifty? Guess I'm too privileged

FUCK CONTENT FARMS MAN FUCK DEMAND MEDIA
SO UNDERGROUND I DONT HAVE A WIKIPEDIA

TYPOS AND LIBEL
this is loud

>>7440428
>mfw I lost four poetry competitions in high school because I 'didn't write a poem' because I was into Milton at the time and 'poems need to rhyme'
Everything that won was narrative-worshipping garbage, too.

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>>7439420
is this bait? worst thing ive ever read

starving artist here
altogether very happy to see that despite being hugely more well-read than me, /lit/ aren't better writers than me

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N-notice me

>>7439548
This is pretty amazing

>>7443369

fix that weird dialogue tag at the begining.

other than that, good. it's made me want to read more desu senpai

Not my favorite, but an excerpt of something I wrote that just got published in my school's undergraduate literary journal. Everything on there is pleb shit, let me know if mine is too.

1/2

After I had had a few more beers in the room I fell asleep again. When I woke up I was still drunk and he was back. Our uptown friends weren't with him. He was drinking but he wasn't drunk yet. She sipped her wine out of the bottle and looked at the floor.
He told me he couldn't find the house and that they were taking a cab to us and then he took a pull. I opened another beer. We drank in silence for a while.
They showed up, Salem and Shiloh and Naomi and Deb and Maria. They were all drunk already and we drank more together before cutting to hit the club from last night. We asked them how uptown was and they all said yeah at the same time and finished their drinks. I finished my eleventh beer.
I was too hot to walk next to anyone on the way down so I kept ahead with my hands on my hips or pressed to my temples. They mingled behind groaning and sighing and panting for air.
When we got to the club it was empty, the windows were broken, there was nothing inside. The homeless people gathered outside were sleeping or dead. Nobody asked where the club went. Everyone looked away from everyone else, eight different directions, and then we decided to look for another bar.

The lights were haze brown in the dive that we found. There was no room at the booth for me to sit and stare at my friends so I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. An old wino was sitting next to me. He shook my hand and asked me who was I here with? I told him nobody. He shook my hand. He asked me who was I here with? I told him nobody again. He shook my hand. The bartender looked over our heads. I looked at a fly on the bar. I finished my beer.

>>7439447
I am by no means a good writer, but I enjoy it and I am trying to improve.
Destroying the things you have written will never help you improve.
Re-read your drafts, identify concrete things you don't like about your writing (things like sentence variation, flow, structure) and actively work to improve one active a time, draft by draft.
This is the only way to learn.

>>7443719

2/2

My friend shouted my name from the booth by the entrance and told me to come on we were leaving. He sounded angry and sober. The wino at the bar stood up to defend me against who he thought was an antagonist and charged my friend. And then it finally happened; my friend started to grow and contort, ripping his clothing to tatters. His eyes dripped scarlet and sank back into his skull, glowering from the darkness within. The fingers on his hands grew into talons and he hunched over on his horse legs, bracing for the attack. They grappled and fell to the floor as white hair began to cover his naked body. Blood sputtered into the air when he pierced the wino’s skin with his claws and his fangs, it landed on my friends' faces and the walls and the floor. They both screamed and roared, spitting onto each other. There was a communication between them as they battled, a primal dialogue of moans and cries which made more sense to me then any words I remember hearing. The wino put up a fight, and just as my friend shredded his chest open he stuck a knife into my friend's neck. The dead wino fell from my friend’s clutches as he rose and shrieked like bat sonar before falling dead into a puddle of both of their blood, red on white fur.
I finished my beer as Salem and Shiloh and Naomi and Deb and Maria and my friend's girl cut out of there, silent as the rest of the world. I ordered another beer.

When you know and love yourself as I do, the best sex happens alone. This is a truth that I and others find embarassing, but of course, a total, singular, unified control over all participarts in the event equals the greatest degree of perfection. Masturbation is the gesamtkunstwerk of sex. Real, mutlipaticipant sex is disgusting.

-excerpt from the 4chanifesto

>>7439476
I like the premise. Post an excerpt?

>>7439500

Not bad.
I know this isn't a critique thread but "spilled gloriously sounds awkward

>>7439500
REDUNDANT

Preach on brother, your manacled legs are only sources of extreme freedom for my thirsty tum to quench itself upon, reeds climbing high as my barbed velcro chest clings to the loops of the woolen spear, unheard of in societies hindered by reason and law and climbing reeds, high reeds with men with barbed velcro chests running about, messing everything up for the rest of them. you cant be expected to maintain consistency when there's nothing to say in the first place, so when there's really nothing to say the only consistency you can maintain is the disinterest of those involved, and that is a measly way to treat a preferred customer, one who has already bent forward for my probing ground of time wasting lacklustre nonsense, and only one who has the merit to listen to this has the glandular fortitude to accuse the world of anything that has to do with jelly beans or gummy bears. i think the fact that you're reading this now is that you're either involved or amused at the mistakes.

Springing forward for one more trip to grasp the mighty hands that drip from the ceiling as the white face pushes through the latex of my screen, the dust begins to hum and buzz with ozone, ready to pop out, energy, tasting it on your tongue before out it goes into a singularity, sucked together by paste and spit, willed together in the blind spot, and welded by the black engines of your nightmares, infinite biting cogs eating inwards, endlessly sucking in and in, the ouroboros with waste, expanding one and eating itself in the process, growing yet being feasted upon.

Later when he was gonna face the electrocuting squad Colonel Arthur Arthur Arthur remembered that one time his dad showed him where snow comes from.

>>7443719
Don't ever "had had" in a first sentence.
>Salem and Shiloh and Naomi and Deb and Maria.
This is a terrible way to introduce characters.

Otherwise it's 'aight.

>>7443649
>See the child.
tryna do it again cormac?

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>>7442528
>>7442649
>>7443145
>>7440729

see >>7439525

Its fairly old now, I simply don't write very often at all. I'm well aware of its faults, but I'm happy i made it anyways. Its god a few cliches, but that was part of the intention of the assignment, it was meant to demonstrate a type of synthesis of the collective readings.

So yeah, its kind of a frankenstein monster of different influences, but its my own personal monster <3

>>7444036
fag detected

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Only a man as obtuse as him would spell angle as angel.

>>7444115
What about that makes me a fag?

I hate everything I've ever written, so it's hard to choose a "favorite". How do I enjoy the things I write

>>7442609
>I am digging the fuck out of this premise. Not sure what exactly to make of the poem though. I enjoyed it though.
Thanks. My focus in writing is typically to tie in mythology and religion into the contemporary world... hopefully not coming off like Neil Gaiman in the process.

Samedi fucks around for a while in the rest of the poem as the guy is too beta to get rid of him. Modern "impotence" basically. My thesis mentor didn't give a shit for it, or anything really, or even assist in the process at all. Was a pretty shit experience but at least I have 100+ pages of shit written.

Sunburnt skin,
Warmth within,
Sweet drink of hard day's toil.
Shallow pleasure
Lasts forever,
It's short, but never spoils

>inb4 edge, m8 i've got more edge than your last wank

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Venus

Her barbéd petals, like lashes on green eyes,
call seductively, cajoling foolish flies
and spiders to abandon, assuring
nothing harmful could come from something so alluring.

Timidly, a single ant suggests
that there's no problem with an innocent caress
and unaware his plan is suicidal
he goes to worship her, his newfound idol.

Briefly, the ant gives himself pause
before moving onward, deep into her jaws.
She quietly shivers with anticipation
as he goes on in naive adulation.

And in the corner of her mouth collects a pool
of tiny dewdrops, glistening like drool.

Insert self-deprecating remark here

>>7439524
Hey I really like this, keep doing this.

>>7442528
This is false

>>7444116
intellikek

>>7444116
an obtuse con looking for an angle. lots of good plays on words in this.

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I wouldn't really call this my favourite, but I struggle with present tense so it was a nice challenge to write in present instead of past. It's from a novel I've been working on.

>>7444956
Are you native English speaker?

I like it as a whole. It has a young charm to it. I would be interested in reading more. Just a tip though about the tenses: try to stay in the same one as much as possible.

For example, the first sentence would sound a little more natural if it was
>The hammock he had fashioned out of the remains of Bavaria's balloon net begins to sag.

and

>He rolls his trousers up to his knees and abandons his waist coat entirely. . .

But yeah it's pretty cool overall.

>>7439524
This is really good

>>7439447
maybe you just hate yourself. you see yourself in your writing and you want to make the image go away, so you delete the text. maybe your writing is fine. who knows

>>7445105
Thanks for the advice!

Yup, I'm a native English speaker, I just struggle with tenses since I can never decide if I want the action to take place in the past and have the character re-iterate this through either dialogue or the process of remembering it etc, I've usually ALWAYS written in past tense and I find that gets really Lord of The Rings-y really fast. So, I'm still trying to work out how exactly I want this novel to work out aesthetically, this chapter is in present tense where-as previous ones are in past because I don't know what I want to change exactly and how I would go about doing that. That'd be wicked, though, if you were wanting to read more.

>>7439541
this sounds like the stuff that randomly pops in your head when you are about to fall asleep, and in that half-conscious state you mistake nonsense for art

>>7439420
Terence adams sat up in his bed and rubbed from his eyes twelve cigarette-related dreams' worth of gunk. Today was to be the third day since he had snuffed out his last camel before finishing it, flicked it into his yard and left his porch triumphantly to begin his new life as a nonsmoker. Coincidentally enough, it would also be the fifth, seventh, and eighth day since he'd done exactly the same thing. His relief that he had not really regressed into his former addiction was offset by his dismay that he had not in fact regressed into his former addiction, and would not be able to start the day with his usual three cups of coffee, for fear that any stimulants in his system would remind him just how little he truely wanted to change his lifestyle. To nip that problem in the bud, he would instead begin the day with a bowl of the alabama kush prescribed to him for his chronic insomnia. The amount of puns in this thought made him giggle as he poured himself a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette.

This is from memory so it's missing bits and organization but if it's not awful I can keep typing what I remember of the legacy of terence adams.

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Hi casual reader here, new to this board

Why is it that so many writers love to dress a simple message in the most arbitrarily complex prose possible? Is that what makes it good writing? I always figured that prose should flow naturally and smoothly nearly always, but it seems like a bunch of people write with a thesaurus in the other hand, adding words that sound outwardly intelligent for no real reason at all. I can understand indulging in colorful writing when the situation calls for it, but it seems like a lot of writers just do it for the sake of doing it. The constant and pointless digressions just seem to make the text flow like shit for no real benefit, and seem to more serve the writer's ego than the text itself.

Am I just not /lit/ enough to get it or is this just writers mistaking quantity for quality? I personally love simple and functional prose.

>>7439503
>that semicolon

>>7445166
>>7445166
Cont:

He entered his bathroom and was met by the face of both his best friend and worst enemy. In the mirror, which had been cracked down the middle the night before in an incident involving a crossbow pistol and what he was not alone in calling a "Heroic dose" of psilocybin mushrooms, stood an absolutely unreasonable amount of grey hair which framed a long, crooked nose perched between two grey eyes. The man in the mirror sipped his coffee, farted twice, and flicked his cigarette into the toilet.

As i'm typing i'm remembering all the different versions of this I did and I have no idea which combination of jokes I eventually settled on before the main story picks up and eventually becomes a story of discredited biochemists becoming tryptamine smugglers in space.

>>7445167
I too often make this observation and am annoyed by it.

>>7445166
>His relief that he had not really regressed into his former addiction was offset by his dismay that he had not in fact regressed into his former addiction, and would not be able to start the day with his usual three cups of coffee, for fear that any stimulants in his system would remind him just how little he truely wanted to change his lifestyle. To nip that problem in the bud, he would instead begin the day with a bowl of the alabama kush prescribed to him for his chronic insomnia. The amount of puns in this thought made him giggle as he poured himself a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette.

fuck you for making me read this

god damn

>>7445189
Elaborate?

>>7445167
Most of the writers here are beginners making beginners' mistakes. Being overly complex is the biggest problem they have to overcome.

>>7445189
I agree. I'm sorry OP, but it's just too gaudy and redundant and feels like something someone would write in 11th grade because they wanted their teacher to think they were cool and edgy.

>>7445206
Firstly, i'm not OP.
And secondly, why edgy exactly? Have you ever tried to quit smoking cigarettes? It's a moment-to-moment struggle with yourself and a battle against stimuli addiction in general. Is it edgy to mention that chemicals exist? Some people make a lifestyle of them. And the story itself became about drug smugglers in space. It's clearly supposed to be ridiculous and funny, not edgy. Of course it was redundant. That's the joke. One second is the difference between absolute confidence in quitting smoking and complete hopelessness about it.

>>7445193
ah sorry i was being too harsh

anyway i'm not an experienced writer but it just felt pretty bad to read. but basically here are the things i personally have a problem with

>His relief that he had not really regressed into his former addiction was offset by his dismay that he had not in fact regressed into his former addiction

I had to read this like 3 times to get the message you tried to convey. It's probably not the best idea to use the exact same phrase in the same sentence for the simple reason that it sounds repetitive. There's also the fact that you tried to convey 2 different tones with the same exact phrase. First "had not really regressed into his former addiction" is meant to be a good thing, then the same phrase is meant to convey a bad thing. It's a little confusing to read. I can see why you'd want to relate the two phrases to one another, but it's probably better to do it in a clearer way.

>for fear that any stimulants in his system would remind him just how little he truely wanted to change his lifestyle

This sentence just sounds a bit off and I don't know really know why. Do stimulants really remind anyone of anything? I don't know

>To nip that problem in the bud, he would instead begin the day with a bowl of the alabama kush prescribed to him for his chronic insomnia. The amount of puns in this thought made him giggle as he poured himself a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette.

Are you sure you want to have the 3rd person narrator use a really forced pun. Or wait, is the protagonist the narrator? Why does the protagonist giggle at the narrator's pun? If you really want to have the pun in the text, shouldn't you have the protagonist thinking it out loud, not the narrator?

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>>7439420
Sorry for the page spam /lit/

I wrote this for the Hypersphere and just kind of enjoyed it. The philosophy was a lot of fun. Wanted to sort of mix Wittgenstein with some weird New Yorker-ish Pinter play.

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>>7445241

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>>7445249

>>7445241
>>7445241>>7445241
>I wrote this for the Hypersphere and just kind of enjoyed it. The philosophy was a lot of fun. Wanted to sort of mix Wittgenstein with some weird New Yorker-ish Pinter play.

Judging from your clever reflection on the absurdity of the current state of morality in the continental United States, I'm guessing Voltaire had a partner in crime as well.

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>>7445253

>>7445256
oh oops, i was reading the upper text.

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>>7445257

>>7445256
All I want is a religious experience right now - moral subjectivism ain't holding up for me right now: "castles on nothing, fencing with an imaginary partner" and all that.

I hope you guys enjoyed the story, I just find it cute for some reason

>>7445238
Thanks. I get what you mean about the first issue. You're probably absolutely right.

And yeah coffee is the worst thing for quitting smoking. Next to alcohol. Either one makes your body go NICOTIIIIIIINE NOW.

And yeah I thought it would be smoothe that the narrator's input became the character's thought just for a moment. But again I'm writing from memory. I don't remember how it was all organized and i'm sure there's t's to cross and i's to dot in order to recreate what the story once was. It's not supposed to be serious at all for a moment. It's literally just hitchiker's guide on psychedelics. Except the reoccurring message in HHG is along the lines of "Finally, here's the ultimate truth to everything, ..well, that was disappointing" and mine is more like all the characters in the universe trying to pass their own brand righteous judgement and impose their idea of law on the universe and none of it ever makes sense or works out as planned. Even the character is just terence mckenna-douglas adams. I did not at all expect to be published. I just wanted to turn my years of psychedelic wandering into scifi comedy.

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>>7445241
>those tabs

>>7445301
Actually made me lol.

>>7445210
I quit smoking in a week. Used to be a pack a day. It's not that hard.

>>7445301
>>7445304
A bit hamfisted, isn't it?

>>7445314
If you weren't having physical withdrawls for several months afterward, you were never addicted and you're stupid for thinking your quitting compares with the average smoker's difficulty.

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Not sure if my favorite thing ever, but it's the thing I like the most in recent memory; also, it's in Spanish, because right now I'm too tired to tl.
__________________________________

El esqueleto de traje entró al bar, y pidió una bebida fuerte. El lugar estaba a medio llenar con ruido y actividad, era de luces amarillentas y cálido, en comparación con el exterior lluvioso y gris. Se sacó el sombrero y trató de hablar con la mujer borracha que tenía sentada al lado. Le pregunto cosas banales y entonces quiso saber si se daba cuenta de lo que él era.

El esqueleto de traje no se sorprendió de que ella lo viera como un hombre de traje más. Hizo fondo blanco con lo que había pedido, lo que le mojó la entrepierna al no tener carne, y se puso a bailar. Se le unió un hombre emplumado con el que bailó un rato. Después le pregunto si se daba cuenta de lo que era, y el hombre le dijo que no le importaba qué fuera.

El esqueleto de traje ya estaba harto. Agarró una botella y se la quebró en la cabeza al hombre emplumado, lo que hizo que el enorme portero lo viniera a sacar. Con el cuello entre los brazos del portero, se puso a gritar que nadie se daba cuenta de que era un esqueleto, ¡ni siquiera habían visto que se había mojado el pantalón! Pero el portero le dijo que se dejara de llamar la atención, que si se creía que era el único con problemas, que madurara.

El esqueleto de traje pidió que le devolvieran el sombrero, ya afuera. Cuando tuvo su sombrero, se fue por donde vino, más frustrado y confundido que cuando llego. Camino bajo la lluvia pensando quien estaba mal, él o los otros. Y ustedes lectores, ¿qué piensan?

El esqueleto de traje, ¿debería vivir como lo que él sabe que es, o como lo ven los otros?

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>>7445167
I see where you're coming from, but I think you're equating reading to other arts a bit too much. Reading has a lot of exercise to it, it's not like an audial or visual medium which can be followed more passively, it often requires the reader to be active; written language needs to be consciously aprehended, while oral language is learned through osmosis and audial/visual language are pretty much instinctual. Not to say that other artforms never require effort to be interpreted, but the same applies to literature. It's simply people playing with language, with its structure and form; at times the the message you speak of might be conveyed through the form itself. If you're confused and frustrated by the way someone writes, well, what's telling you they don't want you to be confused and frustrated? There's more to writing that the meaning of the words.

>>7439503
>The Lethe
I can guarantee you read Heidegger or you read the Illiad too much

>>7445167
Well sometimes putting things in the plainest terms actually loses a lot of meaning. Certain words carry different weights and implications, and good writers can put them in where they hit harder than normal words. I don't think this is meant to tend towards unintelligibility, but more to make what you say more impactful. This of course means that loads of shitters are just going to shamelessly copy this with the "Thesaurus is my tool" kind of logic. There is a genuine reason for it in some circumstances,

>>7445396
>Reading has a lot of exercise to it, it's not like an audial or visual medium which can be followed more passively, it often requires the reader to be active

Why?

I am firm in my belief that adding complexity for the sake of complexity is almost always a bad idea. You're right that sometimes the writer may want to confuse the reader or slow down the pace by describing things more elaborately, but a lot of writers use elaborate language without any rhyme or reason to it. The complexity ends up serving no ultimate purpose, and becomes meaningless chaff. I believe it may be some case of "monkey see, monkey do" in that beginners see experienced writers occasionally go on long, descriptive tirades about things, and decide to replicate the form while failing to see the purpose of the form itself. I think it's better to start writing with simple, natural language at first, and then only later start experimenting with more colorful language when the need to do so actually comes up. You don't start a painting of a man by drawing his finger nails first, after all.

Another thing I see a lot is people using a rare synonyms to simple words, ones that are rarely seen or heard in the same context as the text. You're right that writing has more to it than just the meaning of words, which is exactly why I think it's important to use common phrases as often as possible. Common phrases have known denotations, while uncommon phrases do not. It's more efficient to use the phrase "He had heart." than it is to use the phrase "He was abounding with dauntlessness and dedication." You understand exactly what the writer meant with the first phrase, but the second is too foreign and fabricated for that. Not to mention that the first phrase is 3 short, abrupt words and the other is less than 7. Obviously, there are situations where the latter could actually work better, but 9/10 I'd go with "He had heart." By using the denotations of commonly used phrases to your advantage, you can make your writing simple yet powerful.

This is a poem I wrote about my experience of leaving my star crossed lover for one who I could actually be with, and my dilemma as I choose possibility over destiny.

The stars in my sky, shimmering and full
ablaze with passion, brilliant with vitality.
Though they exist on the outskirts of vision,
they occupy the provinces of my soul.

From the stars, I was conceived
but carried away by the tides of fate.
I stray from the shores as I may,
yet the stars are always in my sky.

I condemn the cruelty, an unrealized hope
of which I am ruthlessly reminded.
Yet I persist and forbearingly admire,
for to deny the connection, I deny myself.

Though what once was, no longer is
my adoration remains all that I convey.
My heart in its increasing capacity,
nevermore to be fulfilled by meager acknowledgment.

Thus I observe, beholding to possibility
and find tranquility in what is here and now.
Together we venture, the wilderness beaconing
the stars in our sky, always overhead.

>>7445429
Reading is a much more active process. You have to try to read. TV and music just happen regardless of your participation.

>>7445379
>Deleting your posts.
Absolutely Kafkaesque.

>>7445429
>Why?
Why what? That's simply the way it is, I already explained to you why it's like that. Reading is in itself a forceful act: from seeing the words, to interpreting their shapes, to reproducing the sound those shapes convey, to understanding those subvocalizations. Much more complex than simply seeing or hearing.

>I am firm in my belief that adding complexity for the sake of complexity is almost always a bad idea.
Complexity for the sake of complexity does not exist. In any case those writers you speak of aren't doing complexity for its own sake, but as imitation; their mistake isn't in trying to be complex, but rather in not understanding what the people who they're imitating were doing and applying that knowledge where it is necessary.

It seems to me you're pushing your expectations onto literature. Writers aren't always looking to be understood, or at least not by everyone, and art needn't be powerful or efficient.

And if trying to be complex leads people to failure, whatever that means, well, let them fail, I say. Who's to say they wouldn't fail trying to be simple as well.

I once wrote a death haiku. I was on my way to the hospital to get my second ear operation. I was pretty scared of the operation, so I wrote it to get my mind off of it. I don't remember how it went, it was about "the wind of life" and how the wind could blow some people over the edge while others harnessed the power of the wind to get ahead in life. I'll try to find it and post it when I get back home later today.

No. You guys are cunts.

>>7444444

>>7445414
I had a mythology course the same semester as scifi so its a reference to the underworld river. Heavy handed, but the Iliad is dank as fuck anyways.

>>7443513
Heh, ya got me. It's fun as fuck to write in his stream of consciousness style.

David Sedaris walked into a gas station, trailed by his crowd of devout middle-aged mothers. They had been following him for years. Long ago, they angered and confused him, but eventually he learned to coexist. They said he made the little things in life amusing. They felt younger being around him. It was perhaps odd, but David remembered that symbiosis is one of life's stranger relationships.
David walked down the snack aisle and looked over the candy selection. A somewhat overweight housewife-type snickered as he scratched his stubbled chin. A few others began laughing with her. Eventually he picked out a pack of spearmint gum. They found the act hilarious. Some women had tears in their eyes from laughing so hard. He heard one repeat the word spearmint cathartically between laughs.
He learned to stop questioning their laughter, but only after a long period of reflection. At first it was exciting, the attention and freshness of other's happiness. He had a knack for performance and enjoyed an occasional audience, so there was very little shame or self-consciousness at first. But the initial excitement gave way to paranoia. He cursed at them many times, broke down on a few occasions. And their reaction was always the same delighted laughter. He threatened everything possible, to injure them, injure himself, legal action, and so on. They loved it. And yet it never affirmed the paranoia. It was simple laughter, the kind an infant makes in surprise. So he learned to move on.
As he stood in line, the women stood behind him, watching and tittering. He coughed compulsively and it got a great reaction. The man ahead of David in line looked back to him with a slightly confused expression. David shrugged apologetically and the women laughed enormously, like a sitcom laugh track.
Eventually it was his turn at the register and he laid the gum on the table. There was an expectant tension.
"That all for you, Mr. Sedaris?" the clerk asked, who was familiar with David's plight.
"Yes, thank you," David lisped politely. The women laughed tensely, all waiting for the payoff.
"That'll be a dollar-oh-seven," the clerk said. David handed him two dollars as the laughter rose. "Out of two?"
The clerk handed him his change and David thanked him and said goodbye. The women burst into laughter and some even applauded. Then David Sedaris left the gas station, followed by the crowd of women, and walked home.

>>7439420
>>7439420
"The ibis disturbs the earth with a long,thin beak.
I search for tranquillity along the reeds of the White river.
I ponder despondency along the leaves of the blue river.
Bison bison
Aurochs
I am the great buffalo man"

>>7443935
Underrated post

>>7443908
underrated post

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I am aware I am not a talented writer. I'd like to improve.
These are three of the things I liked enough not to delete.

A slash of ink
'pon wings of paper
the midnight flame
it does taper
through the void
the pen doth seek
that cursed candle
it grows weak.

The pockmarked, melanistic beret
fixed his thousand-yard stare across the lazy susan
towards the mayor of Thurber Mingus, Texas
where the term blitzkrieg is reserved for silence.
Meanwhile, the troubadour's gray words percolated
onto the dim sum and into the patrons' gizzards
giving guttural gists echoing "Semper fi."
And for some yottasecond Bismuth burped
in the range of that thousand yards
and the children ran to scatter the doves
under the stretched shadows of pump-jacks
that penetrate the KT-Bound crust
where Stegosauruses saw their last instance
of the noblest thing given up by any man:
the due diligence of death, a lenticular miracle.

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>>7446176
another one for the craic

>>7442609
I really liked your image until you went into the reincarnation theme. Not that it is a bad topic to explore, just with a bit more subtlety imo

>>7440757
This sounds very gilbertian

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>>7444036

Hoarse:

Gorgeous
chrome-plated horse whip
Home-making paintings for poorer quality
porn flicks
Court adjourned and the verdict's still saucy
Sack swinging like Dub-D40 on a door hinge
Good lord,
walk light like the floor slick
Look bored,
hoard all mics in a force grip
Pro-abortion endorsing his own importance
Or leaving opponents floating with paper and dirty porcelain
Pinnacle of titillating crisp spit
Fist clinched
emulating '68 Olympics
Rock it from the cradle 'til he middle aged and limp-sticked
Coughing from the stable probably indicating spliff's lit
Dismissed,
feel it in that saturated cranium
Heavy as insurance off a spanking new laser gun
Crazy heart, hazy lung,
making art, raking funds
Crowd going dumb like Palin's son

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In hindsight, the first paragraph is shite, but let me know what you think of the rest

>>7446232
Thanks for the feedback. I guess the reincarnation part is a bit clumsy but I like the last three sentences of it at least. I might cut most of it out or try to fit it some place else eventually.

>>7446483
I'm not squinting my eyes for that long m8.

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>>7446498
Dude I screenshotted your excerpt, I want to see more. Are you gonna get it published or something? If so under what title?

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>>7446506
sorry senpai, hope this is better

pt. 1

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And pt 2

(stewart lee is god)

>>7446512
It's just a bit of Joyce worshipping. Reading Ulysses at the moment and felt like writing. No plans of having it published.

I guess if you want to see more, this is also by me >>7428458

>>7445514
Found it
Here it is originally in icelandic:

Laufblöðin fjúka
Vindurinn hendir mér í...
...í dauðahafið

and here it is translated into english

The leaves blow
The wind pushes me into...
...into the dead sea.

The aim was to show that the wind that blows the leaves of a tree can also be blowing elsewhere and push people over the edge or something like that.

>>7446526
>>7446530
Writing psychedelic drug scenes can be very hard to pull off without it getting obnoxious, but I think you handle it pretty well. It kept me interested enough to read to the end at least. I love the part about the elevator as well, great stuff. Only thing I'd take out is the very first sentence. I know you're kinda setting the scene with it, but it feel pretty flat imo.

>>7446563
Isländska är så jävla vackert.

>>7446156
bump for feedback

>>7446593
good luck, i've posted plenty of shit here thats been completely ignored, your iron shoes was pretty good, btw.

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>>7446576
Thanks man. Yeah, that first line is pretty awful. I wrote this a few months ago and discarded it, it's weird finding something you forgot you wrote and actually liking some parts.
Do you know what exactly you liked about the elevator part?

>>7446590
So is swedish

>>7446563
I feel like this is pretty similar to "Autumn ends / frogs settle down / into the earth". Maybe most death haikus are similar though I don't know. Touching stuff nevertheless.

>>7446416
This reads like an experimental hip-hop song. I like it.

>>7446221
Love the style of this. Feels like it's about someone passing out in a club while drunk/high.

>>7446184
Like a Vietnam flashback in poetry form. Digging it.

>>7446176
For some reason I get a very comfy feeling from this. Not sure if that was what you were going for or not. Either way, I enjoyed it.

>>7446174
I think this could do without the archaic language to be honest. It doesn't really add anything as far as I can tell.

>>7446156
I've seen you post "iron shoes" before, really great stuff. Not sure what to make of "Machine on the Hill" but I love the language you used for it. Crushing. Not really liking the last lines of "Parties". I dunno, feels kinda cheesy.

>>7446116
Not bad, didn't really understand it though.

>>7445758
I love the idea of this and I was visibly smiling as I was reading. It kinda felt like you didn't know where you were going with it at the end though. Or maybe that's just me misinterpreting it.

>>7446634
I'm shit at giving people critique so I apologise if I'm not being very constructive. I think what I liked about the elevator was the sudden shift to a more academic tone in your writing, and also that the analogy of the elevator made me think of depression from a new point of view.

>The victim does not necessarily know they are descending until it is too late, by which time they have found comfort in the descent, and mistake the comfort for contentment.
>They do not sound the alarm or try to escape, because they have found safety in doing nothing.

I especially like these lines. I wish I could write essays this interesting.

>>7446702
Thanks, it means a lot!
Yes, it is rather comfy.. complete detachment from everything except my mind is the most blissful feeling I've experienced.
It's not so much about passing out as becoming entranced by the music, but I see where you're coming from. It could be either, really.

>>7444036
Font? Word Processor?
sorry for being boring.

>>7446702
(I'm the iron shoes guy)
Thanks for your feedback pal. I can now see what you're saying about "parties" though. I am sure there is a more eloquent way of concluding it.

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Don't know id this is actually good or not, but I thought I might as well share

ooga booga bump bump
I like this thread keep it going

Whoosh. Sputter splatter. The erect stream penetrated the calm with an urgent force. It dawned on me why she had left. Her, not me. The stream became more flaccid. I stayed. I'm here. The stream has stopped. Not my fault.. I let down the lid and left. No, I let up the lid and left. No, I let down the lid and stayed...no, I upped the lid, stayed. dressed, then left! Wearing my usual white overalls under my black undernones. And a tie to fly! Yes it was my favorite tie! She knew it was my favorite tie. The one with the little specks of blood flicked over the slats of blue and yellow paint. Made me feel like a magistrate. An aristocrat. But she'll forget soon enough. Oh well, plenty of archetypes to peruse at the chimney. Fro I would return companioned!

I slept for 15 hours that night.

Bumping zee tread

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A snippet

>>7447541
meme/memes

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>can't find anything worth posting

>>7447576
iktfb
iktf...

>>7447541
good

>>7439500
weak

>>7442609
unable to discern something in this

>>7443535
kek

don't skimp on the beat, if it's phat it will make this track

>>7443649
great imitation of maccarthy. I don't dig him so much so I didn't read that much but it's exactly like him

>>7445758
seen this before. lold

>>7446156
seen iron shoes before

your metaphors seem kind of lame and the brevity of the stories makes the little errors inexcusable:

like last time you posted it I noted that

>we'd all ask at school

doesn't really fit because "we would all ask at school" sort of implies that it happened more than once, doesn't it? Maybe I'm overstepping my bounds here—I've always been absolute shit at formal grammar, but I still feel that that's wrong, somehow.

Also, wtf is a "sword of threat"?

>>7446176
euch

>>7446184
based
>>7446526
the first metaphor is totally tone deaf. stopped reading there. a snake digesting it's prey doesn't carry it and there are 0 similarities between a snake digesting its prey and a guy in a train besides the fact that one of them is inside the other. I know you're trying to establish a sense of menace but the metaphor doesn't even work mechanically. When a snake digests its prey it's a very slow process, and the prey moves within the snake. Maybe if Arthur was lurching slimily through the cramped carriage while it remained completely still or slithered around—that would sort of make sense, but I know that that's not what you mean and even then it's a total shitshow of a metaphor that makes me reader feel nothing but light nausea and irritation

>>7446563
why would you explain your poem you kek

>>7448962
Mostly because /lit/ is filled with idiots.

>>7448936
Talent?

>>7439420
>my myspace was deleted

Opening shot. I PEEL the fuck out of the school parking lot in my cousins baby red 2001 Nissan GTR with pink neon lighting in the door panels and custom mufflers that make loud whistling noises. A rap song that samples police sirens and news reporters covering the 1992 LA riots rattles my icy-glazed windows with its hyphy bass waves. I hit a switch and my fresh hoopty physically flips up onto the curb and nosegrinds around the corner. Streaks of iridescent light fly out of the discoball I installed in place of the speedometer and ricochet off my wraparoud oakleys like fiery sparks off a welder's helmet. The primal subsonics from the bass speakers in the trunk pump wave after wave of testosterone directly into my brain zone, inflating my inner being to enormous proportions until I feel ready to explode and take a dozen city blocks with me. My name is Sasuke Toyota, and this is the story of how I became the most powerful Rap wizard in Squidworld.

Everyone is an idiot, it's just a matter of opinion on how much.

I want that on my tombstone.

>>7449040
that went on a few sentences too long but it was fucking funny as fuck, i was like black guys dream of fucking an rnb bitch, this is definitely an asian fantasy (which he got second hand from an 80s whiteboy)

>>7446925

Any constructive critiques? I know I'm not excellent, I'm just a beginner. Any help would be appreciated.

Also anything I'm doing right.

>>7449040
3/5 would keep reading.

>>7449040
Just make more, that's the only correct answer that exists

>>7449040
now this is the kind of ethnic lit i can dig, it's not about trying to act like a hip white guy in nyc, it's not bitching about rich guys in nyc, it's just about some dude ballin the fuck out in his radical ride, which just happens to have a very asian vibe...i mean i guess he also happens to be japanese, but maybe unreliable narrator what if it's actually a white kid in the midwest who watched too much anime? who knows, but if this shit was a novel i'd probably read it

>>7449040
Too many adjectives, I think.

The idea behind it came over a get together at an old bar in Soho, called the Ear Inn. The place felt downright nautical, with tables built out of round planks of oak and cedar tied together with rope for added effect. I skimmed through the menu but it was pointless – it must have been ten pages long. I sat alone for thirty minutes at the bar until he arrived in a black suit without a tie. He walked in as if he had already known the bartender, ordering a drink before looking at me.
“Hey there, hotshot.” He mimicked a pistol with his thumb and index finger, and fired off a round.

>>7446416
Go back to rapping about rape

>>7450382
>opens strong
>immediately gets bogged down in details
Try again

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>>7449015
That's the word I was looking for.

>>7450885
yeah as soon as i got to "Soho" i began to dislike it...

Even back then, everybody understood immediately. Even people walking past him on the street couldn't help but roll their eyes.

It was a profound understanding; it surpassed his own.

I walked in the other night at 3am, half-drunk and being afraid for years to take a jab at a book concept I've had in my head for years. But the bus ride had me a bit sentimental so I just opened word and said fuck it.

Draped in that eternal damp white he had walked in and exchanged his existence with [...]. The old man didn’t look and answered back. The woes and silence of that sparse land circled Adam’s head and nothing earthly or logical edged him to do much else other than reflect. A long silence passed as the two took shelter from the night and recapped their own waking hours of the day. No warm emotions emanated from either, their eyes fixated on any empty space that caught them. They just sat. Then there was a distance lead snap. Adam twitched to its attention slightly sooner than Sergei. In fact Sergei barely twitched at all, as if there was nothing left in the world to surprise him.
Adam’s thoughts had now raced into anticipated scenes of himself being in the centre of a terrifying battlefield. All too fast for him to even take notice of them as they evoked a more natural urge to grab the rifle leaning on the wall to his left.

I wasn't even going to save it but word was still open when I got up.

>>7451628
>for years

>for years

>>7451628
>I walked in the other night at 3am, half-drunk and being afraid for years to take a jab at a book concept I've had in my head for years.

>protagonist is a writer
>author and protagonist both believe the drunkin master myth of prose production

ya, i think i'll just stop reading right there

I once wrote a sentence that quoted itself in its entirety; but I lost that notebook and don't remember quite how it went.

>>7451649
>protagonist is a writer
Explain

>>7451686
The main character in the story assembles words into sentences.

>>7439420
Pleb tier but I'm fond of it:
"The starcall echoed far and wide into the moonlit plains of bright-silver grass, making each of the lights in the sky flicker rhythmically to the cacophony of screams. Each Phoenixian was, at first, shouting to the sky in his own pitch, all voices creating a dissonance that slowly started fusing together, reaching and matching each other's vocal range, finding the middle-term sound in that eerie symphony. The flickering stars also became stable, their shine now intensified and rising as the scream from each and every beak rose in tandem, louder, louder, earburstingly louder up to the moment when it seemed mute."

r8 my poem lads, tell me how to be actually good

his eyes, vacant
roll about, rotate
endlessly trying to locate
the peripherals

they are there in the corners
the bridge of his nose
his eyelashes
the red-hot tips of his lids
slowly closing
not unlike blemishes
unseen until now

>>7451974
i'd take away the rotate/locate rhyme, and the line about blemishes.
The alternative would be adding more rhymes, and more comparations, maybe metaphors.
Seems kind of incomplete too... If the dude described is the protagonist, expand on his thoughts. If the protagonist is observing the dude, then expand on his actions.

>>7451694
lol not him but the first sentence is a preface to the actual content.

>>7452048
if you're going to use a framed narrative at least try to be slightly creative jesus fucking christ

>>7443535
Changed my mind this is my fave

Phuc Stevenson was a postman in Mansfield, a suburb of Dallas. Understand now that postman is a joke, a play on “post-man,” implying either that Phuc somehow transcends humanity or that he’s the quintessence of postmodernity. Whatever it means, he definitely has nothing to do with the mail [commentary on privatization of postal service in America and neoconservatism because such commentaries are too unabashedly earnest for someone too young to remember 9/11 to make] or stamps or Thomas Pynchon. Phuc decided last month while snapchatting underage girls dick pics under the alias Dylan (he thought to use Phil because of his name or Fred because of phonetics but those are some pedo as fuck names (I guess 16 isn’t even pedo it’s more ephebo and half of Europe is cool with it (not that non-Euro countries can’t be good examples of reasonable sex policies, not being ethnocentric (no fuck that Thailand has no business being like that (reverse privilege Phuc is Asian (no shit, his name is Phuc) so I can say that (though I (the defictionalized author) am only half so I/he can write/think that))))) that the whole affectation/sincerity thing dominating the arts is stupid since the opposite of affectation would more accurately be isolation, as affectation is inherent to socialization, or perhaps even suicide, as it’s sort of inherent to existence (unless you’re retarded or senile or David Foster Wallace (scratch that last one he killed himself (as you know :^) hehelololkekekeakguaholmjrgimt); I think I’m/he’s on to something)). As problematic (this is only half-ironic because on the one hand fuck university liberals (university being a modifier (the non-tenured variety are fine (privilege check: of course I think that I am one))) but foregoing fitting diction to avoid tumblr liberal (there are so many varieties (latte leftist, limousine liberal and microblog (cultural) Marxist (which is really just tumblr liberal with more Joyce points) round out the alliterative subset)) connotations is insincere as hell (irony of using affected po-mo down-to-earth colloquialisms (“…as hell”) when chastising insincerity noted)) as affectation as a concept is, sincerity is even more so, as Phuc realized fourteen pages into his Sonic the Hedgehog fanfic he jokingly wrote, because with intention (fuck you determinists I’m not going eight parentheticals deep to temper that term) comes an inherent sincerity.

>>7446830
It is ok, could be better. As I read it I felt like I was there ... sort of. I dont know what would make it better so my only advice is to keep writing.

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A version of her virtue was virgin as her oil.

>>7446925

Not good?

>>7443621
wait nigga you what? I mean, that sounds ridiculous. who were the judges? did they stipulate that rhyming shit? what exactly do you mean by "narrative-worshipping"? narrative as in, e.g. model minority narrative? or narrative poetry?

I sense you're not telling the full story, and dammit I wanna know, but I'm guessing your poems weren't as good as you thought they were. Mentioning Milton, really? He's great but antiquated and if you imitate him then of course you're not gonna win anything in AD 1667+448

>>7452090
S T O P T
T O P T H
O P T H I
P T H I S

He stepped out of the car into solid ground and open air. The eternal sun above proudly blazed as he dragged a hit of oxygen and light-headedly almost felt to float up into the heavenly expanse as the confines were left behind him and he was suddenly aware that it's a big, big, world around him, what a world to be lost in! He slipped and fell from his ego's balcony, down and down and down to where he stood in the centre of that moment.

I am not my mother or my grandmother
Although they are flowing into me.
Into me I am not them
And I will not take this beating
Beating down like the rain
Beating down like the rain
Without a sound...

>>7453022
that the whole poem? It's interesting, the only hangup I have is "into me I am not them" which is a weird construction and I don't know what "into me" is modifying there.

>>7450382
I actually quite like the description of the bar but it slows things down too much. Here's a better version:

The idea behind it came over a get together at an old bar in Soho. He walked in as if he had already known the bartender, ordering a drink before looking at me.
"Hey there, hotshot." He mimicked a pistol with his thumb and index, and fired off a round.

File: 1447608034919.jpg (2MB, 1370x887px) Image search: [Google]

2MB, 1370x887px

If you think you have seen this before, I posted it in the critique thread, too.
Any constructive feedback would be appreciated, critical or praising. Thanks

>>7444229
I like this

>>7451608
>Even back then

Clichéd as fuck.

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Bump

Like sheets thrown aside
Static crackles, hums, and jumps
Through twined pairs of legs

>>7439524
This, unlike the other stuff in this thread, I like.

So I meet this totally 10/10 girl and I'm already thinking of the breakup mixtape I'll make her in 3-6 months.

>>7444956
Don't quote songs for you title u dingus

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How am I?

>>7439509
ich kann nicht viel Deutsch, aber mir scheint sowieso dein Gedicht ziemlich nett.

Jonathan was an abrasive man, short of stature and of temper. He made a habit of attending the Children Of Manic Depressives club after work on Thursdays, a society he had formed alone. The meetings consisted mostly of him sitting cross-legged on a Burger King bathroom floor, quietly sobbing.
Stacey once told the entire office about how, after drinking five White Russians, Jonathan had told her that he secretly wanted to be a woman. Everyone laughed when he came into work that day. There was a change in his face when he walked through that alabaster doorway, welcomed by our muffled hysterics. I am not sure whether the others had seen it, but I had. He had turned his face away from us, as if he was more interested in the trinkets on the grey desks than his our twisted faces. I still saw it though, the convulsion of his jaw muscle, the sinews in his neck contracting, like he was trying to swallow something he could never hope to keep inside him.

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>>7439524
>I was George Samsa before the morning arrived
>I was George Samsa
>George Samsa
>George