A book about this.

you should read dfw's autobiography. it's about a little boy named david who was born without discernible talent. he eventually made a thousand page long book which was then read by pseuds on the internet

>>8662141
Yea. It's called toughen the fuck up you soft cock, written by finding it hard to enjoy your job doesn't make you superior.

Also >>>/9k/

>>8663611
t. wage cuck

Remember wagey, another day another dollar

>>8662141

sounds like someone better start writing.

oh ho ho tee hee.

>>8662141
A Confederacy of Dunces.

>>8663615
>wage cuck
>He actually thinks the only alternative to NEETdom is a wage
>Not knowing the most basic aspecst of how our society operates
Remember NEETy, I make what you get in a year in less than a month, I own a home and will retire in the next ten years to live a life of traveling. When I die people will remember me fondly. When you die they will try not to remember you.

>>8662141
If you don't like a regular job then find a way to make money off of things you enjoy doing or are good at. Money is a means to an end and most people forget this-that's why they look like zombies to you.

Don't quite your job, you're going to need it, but just throw that money back into an investment that will get you further to what you actually want.

Want to make games? Save the three hundred bucks and by a game engine and royalties so you can sell your game. Want to write? Start practising and get good at it. Advertise your shit once you got it ready.

Want to do nothing all day? Convince people you are some kind of philosophical teacher and talk all day.

>>8663633
>When I die people will remember me fondly. When you die they will try not to remember you.

give or take 2 generations

>>8662141
Oblimov

>>8663637
what's a lit job?

>>8662141
I'm going to write you a book right now based on the small amount of information you gave me.

>>8662141
Factotum or Post-Office by Charlie Bukowski.

>>8664689
It was my 14th year when the smell finally hit me. I had been drinking a cup of coffee, shit-posting and cleaning my cum and piss filled bottles from my desk. 14 years confined without a single day of freedom. The cat had disappeared earlier in the morning. Her white coat and tiny ears now appeared streaked with blood as it finally sat in. I stepped in from the living room into the giant chair where my mother had remained immobilized for the last decade. Maury blared. “You are not the Father”, except that I was. I had borne this entire situation. My mother had lost face, as did I.

This seems like a decent start.

>>8664705
The catastrophe was complete as I saw the biblical “Eye for an I” played out. Tremors. Palpitations. Sweat coming down from my brow. I stumbled into the wall and slung down towards the floor. My mother had kept the phone, yes. She had kept the phone on the table beside me. How did it work again? What was that number…

“911, what is your emergency”
“My mother! Something has happened”
“Okay sir, this don't seem like no emergency. Imma hang up now”.

It was a click.

What now. Had I said something wrong? Maybe it was the smell of my breath transmuted across space. This was beginning to be a CAT-astrophe. Or maybe it was another sort of punctuation to years of masturbatory pembulation. That is not even a real word, maybe it would be better as one.

>>8664731
pem·bu·late
(pəm′byə-lāt′)
v. pem·bu·lat·ed, pem·bu·lat·ing, pem·bu·lates
v.tr.
1. To wallow through.
2. To poorly inspect (an area) on foot.
3. To dilly-dally
v.intr.
To badly walk about; roam or stroll.

>>8664765
Nobody will be able to construe that as being incorrect on the internet! I had completed a proper formation and have even included a proper pronunciation. Now to face the matter at hand. Errrr.

I had barely consummated my victory when my cat, with the unfortunate name of Snowball approached and licked my hand. A streak of crimson flowed across as the truth of my situation fell unto me.

I was finally able to reach an operator after much mental and verbal difficulty. The intelligence of operators is astoundingly meager. The Emergency Technicians came and removed the body. I had worn my Bukowski T-Shirt for the occasion but they hardly seemed to be the literate types.

“Is there any next of kin?”
“I'm her son.”
“…….Any other next of kin?”
“Well my Aunt and her children live in Memphis”
“So a few hours.”

A silence collapsed in the house.

“Come with us, there is some paperwork that needs to be done”

>>8664784
This concludes chapter 1 of "the OP was a faggot: Readers Digest edition".