Are there any other books written by profoundly mentally ill people?

oh hell yeah, RAFE.

I've got a whole folder labeled 'Autism'. I'll share some of it.

This is an insane story about child abuse written by a 20 year old man with some kind of learning disability, likely more than autism happening here.

of course, the Tuba Vore dude. This is his original comic, before people started making memes.

...

Richard Tabor Greene, maybe just a con artist. He does lectures about... whatever the hell this pic is.

Autistic deviant art story about child neglect, a father obsessed with model airplanes instead of his son.

Hol' up, y'all sleeping on Artaud?

surrealism-plays.com/Artaud.html

anyone have or know where i could find a pdf of the full book?

Has anybody ever read the whole thing? You would literally go crazy, right?

I read the entire book. Over a period of 34 hours and 15 minutes. When I was done I set the book down in my bookshelf which contained 45 other books (15 fiction 30 nonfiction). I reflected on it for 8 minutes and 12 seconds. Afterwords I concluded that Nick Smith is the greatest author of our time (September 15th, 2017) and than i went to go play with my Legos.

Yes.

Das Kapital

The Exegis and Valis by Philip K Dick

I can't explain why this makes me so uncomfortable. I think it's the repetition.

Foreverial tiedup TBone, the all foreverially tiedup all over from fully delitized head to fully delitized foot, permanent rubbery rope covered, rope mummified, permanent bologna, ham and cheese tongued, permanent ham nosed, permanent ham lipped, permanent bologna and ham earred, permanent bologna mouthed, full permanent bologna mouthed, permanent bologna organned, full permanent bologna bodied, permanent bologna insided, permanent ketchup, tomato, bbq, taco and pizza sauced type blooded, male full permanent living deli happy fat mummy licking swatkat. all that fits him with what he is right here. Forevrial tiedup Tbone, the changed and transformed permanent tiedup, rope mummified version of the Swatkat TBone, with full permanent bologna organs and permanent bologna insides, the most outer part of his huge tongue is permanent bologna, the most inner part is a mixture of american cheese, cheddar cheese, cheese sauce, mustard, spicy brown mustard, yellow mustard and a melted cheese all mixed together into one, with ketchup, more yellow mustard, a mustard seed, a casing that is a mixture of bologna, ham and hotdog and cheese sauce. this is irreversable and TBone is stuck as Foreverial tiedup Tbone and cant be cured of his permanently fully delitized form nor can he be freed of any of his bondage, completely tiedup like this to stay. there is no way for him to escape this as he cant, its permanent and irreversable, so Foreverial tiedup Tbone will stay Foreverial tiedup TBone.

Swatkats
big, fat, chubby
fully delitized, huge,thick permanent bologna, ham and cheese tongue
permanent bologna organs
permanent ham nose
ketchup, tomato, bbq, taco and pizza style blood
permanent bologna veins in which condiment type bloods runs through
not like this to be eaten, but to live this way
happy smiling fully delitized rope mummified creature that always speaks and never closes his permanent bologna mouth and licks everyone and everything with his huge,thick permanent bologna, ham and cheese tongue
permanent rubbery rope bondage final binding material, but not only material as many are used to tie him up and leave him tiedup
jumps around everywhere licking everyone and everything with his huge,thick permanent bologna, ham and cheese tongue

rafe15.deviantart.com/gallery/

did you steal my identity

reading the book feels like typing in a long ass gameshark code. id like to skim his second book but i dont want to pay for it.

This is just a couple notches away from going all the way back around and being brilliant. Instead it's just fucking horrifying.

Foreverial Tiedup Justin, fully delitized with a full permanent bologna body and permanent bologna organs and permanent bologna insides and a permanent pastrami nose just like Foreverial tiedup Jake. Just like Foreverial Tiedup Jake, except hes a Rat instead of a Kangaroo Rat.
Foreverial Tiedup Justin jumps around everywhere happily just like anyone like him and licks everyone and everything with his permanent bologna, ham and cream cheese tongue. Every anthropomorphic furry mammal that is licked by Foreverial tiedup Justin with his Permanent bologna, ham and cream cheese tongue soon ends up fully delitized catching the organism that changes the tongue and organs and literally the whole animal anthro body into living delis and meats and soon they are caught and end up as permanent statues or are bound up, tiedup, wrapped up. Foreverial tiedup justin wants to stay foreverial tiedup Justin and have fun jumping around with a full complete permanent bologna body with permanent bologna organs and insides that is fully tiedup, wrapped up,rope mummified in permanent rubbery rope bondage. the permanent rubbery rope not only ties him up and keep him in bondage, but it is also his new and permanent clothing.

truly the Beckett of our time

>yfw his sister's books are so much more unreadable

youtube.com/watch?v=4DivjcBWuTM

What is this book about and is it worth reading?

It's basically a very childlike powerwank fantasy that one would develop by playing JRPGs and watching anime, but written by an adult with severe OCD who feels the need to be super descriptive, including figures and having every variable 100% specifically measured out to the decimal point.

I actually enjoyed it.

Nobody said Tundra and Hypersphere yet?

-Salvatore Tommy Ganci aka SaToGa aka Son of the Gods aka Loneman Pai. He wrote like 8 books on Enochian magic that border on totally whacked out nonsense. Start with Sons of Liber Typhon.

-Kenji Siratori

-Into The Void by Zoe7 (who calls himself a "multi-dimensional synergy personality cluster") is about solving the JonBenet Ramsey case by doing so much ketamine that he astrally travels back in time to witness the murder. It's a work of non-fiction.

-Schreber's Memoirs
-Wolfson's Schizo et les Langues (unfortunately and necessarily only in french)
-Raymond Roussel
-Robert Walser's "Microscripts"

If you're interested in it, a lot of occult/mystic authors could be considered mentally ill too...

So like chrischan but in novel form? I can't wait to read it.

Adolf Woelfli
Good luck getting to read it though

What the fuck is "delitized"?

Turned to deli foods. Expensive cheeses, olives and cooked or dried meats.

Permanent bologna, ham and cream cheese, foreverially tied up and enjoying it.

Also Adventures in Immediate Unreality by Max Blecher.

I read part of this weird furry "erotic" fiction story where the main guy has had an injury to his brain and now is confined to an old rickety wheelchair and can only gurgle and drool while his wife cuckolds him with another man in front of him. There were lots of real life pictures of dolls representing his characters interspersed in and I got the impression from context clues that the author was a 70+ year old arab man, possibly in a wheelchair himself. Reading what I did of it, filled me with a deep feeling of dread. Nowadays, if I ever want to dispel feelings of sexual arousal, I just think about that story and my penis shrivels instantly.

The Art of The Deal.
What Happened.
The Art of The Argument.

Nigger

Unlike CWC Uli is actually pretty intelligent, he just wastes all of his intelligence on completely inane things.

Does anyone have those comics of like these little animal things that have their mother taken away and killed and the kids all cry and say shit like "nooo pls dont kill my mubber" or something? I remember seeing them on Veeky Forums some years a go.

oh yeah, the fuzzy pony torture meme thing. I forget what they're called. That shits fucked up though, makes me feel bad.

'fluffy abuse'

th-thanks

Where can i download this?

on a computer or something

>main character named Horselover Fat
was he the original fanfic schizo?

That was some weapons grade autism. It reminded me a lot of jissouseki, another strange perversion. I wonder if these kinds of aberrant obsessions always existed or if exposure to the internet causes them.

...

this could easily be taken for a work of avant-garde poetry

What the fuck

amazon.com/Richard-Tabor-Greene/e/B01IDHU3XU

Nick Land - Fanged Noumena

always did, the internet may have stopped some from becoming murderers honestly

is it just me or does this read like some weird Deleuze/Guattarian art project

anything by Drew Hempel aka voidisyingyang

craziest person on the internet IMO and I mean that in a good way.

Most of his work is spread across thousands of posts on his dozens of blogs. Here are his actual books:
lulu.com/spotlight/naturalresonancerevolution

Sons of Liber Typhon is like timecube on crack. Good stuff

Fluffybooru is the place to go for it.

Used to have a big ass folder of this shit, first time I came across it it gave me this weird internal murder chub.

But all the best artists stopped making shit and I deleted my folder for porn space.

Its strange as fuck how this stuff effected me, never seen MLP and for the longest idea had no idea the two were related.

Guess it was just my inner asspie needing some catharsis or some shit.

Just read Walser's microscript "Autumn". Amazing stuff

>Autumn
Little clouds that look like bits of cotton wool are drifting before
my windowpanes in the yellow blue. I speak these last words
with the indolence of a divinely gifted layabout, but let me add
that a letter is lying in my manuscript holder that I shall possibly
respond to—a different letter, that is one whose contents struck
me as unacceptably naïve, was out of laziness allowed to sail into
the wastepaper basket. Frequently persons approach me with what
I find the quite odd presumption of sharing with me this or that
piece of advice which I am for the most part not at all inclined to
heed. Along with the autumn season, the theater season arrived, as
well as a magazine posing the question of what qualities must be
displayed by a novel worthy of immortality.
With a sluggishness that is only to a certain extent ungraspable
I shall concern myself in the present deliberations with a sort of
beggar who is whiling away his days in a very beautiful landscape
and residing in a—to all appearances—magnificent house where
he takes his coffee at four in the afternoon, after which he sets out
to perform his habitual obligations. When he goes for a stroll, he
finds himself encircled and en-ring-around-the-rosied by children,
which fills him with disconcertions that arise possibly because of
his inability to find much or anything at all within himself by way
of innocuousness, despite his efforts on that score.
In earlier days, as he himself once related, he dwelt in a little

>castle whose graceful gable work was mirrored with poetical deli-
cacy in the lake on whose atmospheric strand that residence stood.
This beggar cannot be referred to as a necessitative petitioner
meekly requesting, say, a bit of bread, but rather in discussing him
one must speak of a spiritual beggarhood, which in and of itself is
surely not so dire a circumstance, since the main thing for us when
we have enough to eat is to know where we can go at night to rest
from the day’s exertions that deplete our strength. One thinks it
permissible to voice the opinion that around the figure of the beg-
gar it was autumn, whereby, however, error can by no means be
ruled out. For example, I do not know with any certainty whether
writers are authorized to compare the early morning with spring-
time, noon with summer, eventide with autumn and the long,
monotonous hours of night with the winter season. Around the
beggar, then, evening had arrived. Deep furrows nested on either
side of his mouth, which could be seen as evidence that he was
often at odds with himself.
At times he thought himself a magician. But whereas in former
days he’d worked his magic with a sureness of hand, i.e. naïvely, as
if playing upon the flute of the wealth of his unconscious, which is
possibly a somewhat unquotidian way of putting it, now his spells
suggested more a niggling hesitancy than a joyous striding forth
into the reaches of Life. You insult Nature, in my opinion, if you
impute, say, ill humor of some sort to the autumnal, since autumn
takes umbrage at all admittedly tempting attempts to impose on it
some affinity as it were, with melancholy or beggardom; though
to be sure it does sometimes seem that little autumnal trees can be
found to harmonize with beggarly little faces.
The beggar was seated in a dainty pose upon a bench in the
autumnal park, thinking about the letters he had addressed to the
mistresses of his velvet black-soft heart, all of whom felt appre-
hensive on account of his magical beggarliness: “When he writes

to me, might he be intending these lines for another?” is a question
each had asked herself on being informed of his feelings of inti-
macy, and each of them had found it compelling to be propelled
back and forth upon the swing of a tenderly tumescent disbelief.
To a certain extent, the beggar had taken care to provide, in this
respect, the most stimulating possible backdrop of naturalistic
romanticism, which can be classified as a problem. Being himself
so wary of belief, he had no choice but to render others doubtful as
well when he put himself in their hands epistolarily, causing them
to hearken to his manner of speaking. His way of loving, which
was in a sense perhaps a little bit alarming, was often excused with
reference to his not unpeculiar nature and its golden-sphere-like
qualities, which kept rolling down the slopes of his existence. Any-
thing false about him appeared to them to resound with openness,
for this seeker, they thought, could only seek in his one-track way,
just looking at his mirthfully earnest eyes revealed that at bottom
he was plotting only to conjure up faithfulness from a soul—pos-
sibly at times a bit too zealously.
The beggar was constantly taking his autumnalities for
granted, as though there were such a thing as precisely nuanced
gradations of life.
It amuses me to believe that readers are, as it were, writers’
chaperones; but even the most rigorous thinker may well have
arrived perhaps at the surely capital insight that these lines of mine
are autumnally fading—with which, in point of fact, their purpose
has been fulfilled.
In the city where I reside, a Van Gogh exhibition is currently
on view.

The weird thing is that I saw a youtube video of SaToGa and he didn't appear crazy at all. He talked intelligently for about 20 minutes straight about western magick, science, psychology, all types of things. His spoken communication style was quite clear and organized, nothing like his books.

Reading these gives me very strong Soft Machine flashbacks for some reason

>inb4 rectal mucus

How do you even begin to diagnose this? I guess it's the same issue that affects bondage fetishists. Any ideas?

I'll have fucking nightmares of people with huge bologna tongues sticking out of their mouths. Thanks a lot Veeky Forums, I already feel queasy.

Autistic people are so interesting. Especially the ones riding that thin line between low and high function, e.g. Terry Davis

Post the link for fucking sake,

It's actually an unregistered youtube video, he made it so you can't find it by searching. The link was buried somewhere in the countless posts on his Loneman Pai forum.

I have an HTML copy of the entire forum downloaded but I'm not digging thru thousands of pages to find the link, sorry.

I'm pretty mentally ill and I've written a few books.