Write what's on your mind

this image doesn't work for the catalog

and what does that teach you about life?

Can't have everything

dicks taste good?

I'm going to drive to maine from the western united states so I can write in silent peace and if I have to get a job that maybe I won't hate.

Am I being stupid?

i started writing a screenplay a few weeks ago and it was progressing well but last night i came up with some really good ways to change it up which would significantly alter the story (for the better). i was too tired to write though so i went to bed and planned on writing everything down today but i've forgotten nearly all of it and now i want to stop living.

Dos Veeky Forums like moot?

>tfw started browsing 4chins in 2010
>despite being considered a newfag, I have been here for half of its lifetime

the newfaggotry was on your heart all along :3

>letting your idiot brother extort you

Silent peace exists much closer to you, I guarentee it

Good ideas tend to come back, just keep working on it

Last night I had a drunken conversation with a banker.
What he said shocked me, made me realize what people are really doing with the world and the things we've been given. He knew his life was vapid and hedonistic. He just didn't care. He had no search for meaning, he had no drive to try and make something of this life past hedonism.
Worst part is, this guy was religious, in the most insulting way possible. A Protestant, and a sola fide Protestant at that, he told me he didn't care what he did because he knew that if he said he believed in Jesus he would go to heaven. I don't know how to respond. It's almost a perversion of not only Jesus' work and the canon of thinkers in the Christian tradition, but a perversion of even Luther and Calvin's theology as well.
I don't know if the conversation turned me commie, but there's something wrong with society, on a base level, that's not just systemic; it's cultural. People are satisfied with vapidity, even unto their religion. Perhaps this is always how it was and there's no stopping it. I don't know what to think of this.
Can people really live a life without creation? Not even strictly artistic creation, all creations have the spark of god in them: families, meaningful action, tools. Can man subsist on "bread" alone, in a sense?

Our lifes may be ephemeral, but Veeky Forums is forever.

Là ci darem la mano,
Là mi dirai di sì.
Vedi, non è lontano;
Partiam, ben mio, da qui.

(Vorrei e non vorrei,
Mi trema un poco il cor.
Felice, è ver, sarei,
Ma può burlarmi ancor.)

Vieni, mio bel diletto!
(Mi fa pietà Masetto.)

Io cangierò tua sorte.
Presto ... non son più forte.

Yeah, but I also desire a change and to be far away from my state as possible, all that is here are bad memories and zero friends. I suppose I am probably just making excuses for doing something completely irrational and I probably won't be satisfied as I think I will be. However, I am receiving $25,000 from a dead relative, I figured this was my ticket to get the fuck out of here and into a life on my own as a hopeful novelist.

>I don't know if the conversation turned me commie
go the traditionalist route instead, is just as hopeless but at least it's more fun and less resentful

Maybe in his case religion is simply a symptom of his psychology. He has *some* innerlying anxiety about concepts such as meaning or afterlife but he has got them covered very conveniently. Superficial faith is enough for him to carry on.

I'm hedonistic, vapid, and non-religious. I feel a sense of guilt about all three.

>I don't know how to respond
Try reading the Bible sometime. There are many immediate responses to this, including some from the man himself.
>Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.

I've read the Bible before, I just doubt he has

>the electricity our bodies use is what the soul is
He thinks ion charge gradients are the soul?

Wut

Why not educate him? It's really as simple as quoting a verse or a few.

Damn them all and become an Evolian. That's what awaits you at the end of this road

I really got stop saving porn and images of cute girls

...

That's what I'm thinking, maybe not diving head on into the "fuck the plebs I'm an aristocrat" memery of Evola, but we HAVE to return to something more. That's why I can't go full commie: they're trying to fight mindless capitalistic hedonism with mindless collectivist materialism

I see it less as extortion and more of a bribe. I don't want this fucker to atrophy any more than he already has.

Probably misinterpreted some youtube video.

yep, what do if you like Evola but you are a complete spiritual pleb?

I can write anywhere but I really need to move out on my own, away from my home state. I remember visiting Maine a few times in my childhood and I loved it. If not Maine, then somewhere else in New England. I have nothing for me here except grandparents.

Nietzsche
Evola is to some extent a reaction to Nietzsche, I recall some works of his were prefaced with his intention to provide a more profoundly spiritual take on the topics of Nietzsche and Stirner specifically

i meant it more in the sense that Evola writes for the noble of spirit, so kind of leaves you to the side trenches if you are weak spirited and perfectly aware of it

Lads I just want to play in a twee pop band and read Dante

I keep piling up books and I don't know which one to start.
My feet are cold.
Can't fucking set up anki on my phone.
I wish I commited more to learning chinese.

>The soul is a Harmony of electric sound
If this is the case how can the soul be before the body in the sense of action, thought, and awareness? Can the harmony which emerges from the strum of guitar strings act upon the guitar strings?

Not sure if I got this phaedo argument right

Not even Moot likes Moot

I got shitfaced last night and wrote a three page short story, that is mediocre but good for being drunk, and I wish I had the confidence to share it with someone

sorry for the bad grammar by the way, I'm trying to do homework while browsing Veeky Forums and it's not really working

Share it with me user :)

How would you recommend I do this?

Yo bitch pussy drip when she wit me
She need dat lube when she wit you
I fuck her rough like a thotty
With you she get a headache too

put it on pastebin and post the link

thanks user, I've been coming to this god awful website for 8 years now and I only recently started browsing this board.
>pastebin.com/3kxcZPtm

cos'è??

Is it groundbreaking? No. Is it one of the most relateable pieces of fiction I've read in a while because I was literally feeling all of these thing less than 24 hours ago? Yes.
Good work user. I'd appreciate more shit from you.

Who said it was fiction, user :^(

It wasn't fiction for me last night either user
I'm also toying around with an idea about parties from the POV of the outsider/the wallflower/the guy who's just there to get drunk. Sure, it's naive and a bit trite, but that's it's beauty imo. You keep doing what you're doing user, we're all gonna make it.

People at work keep talking to me because I'm mostly silent and polite but I get so tired when you already see them 9 hours a day and the first thing they do when they see you is recount everything they did when they didn't see you. You can't tell them off without turning the environment tense of hostile.

I have a steady gf actually. The story was in the point of view of my best friend. But personally, I had a lot of fun with the fly-on-the-wall perspective, so if you have something you'd like to share also I'd love to read it

Is work school user? underage b&

Every day is every day, and they get more even the more I live. Sometimes I catch myself thinking: was this not yesterday? If not, then this was so today. It feels nice, it feels fluffy and comfortable.

Sometimes I think of adventures I've had and the ones I will have. But now I'm here and every day starts in the same place and is a day. I dont even have to try. Just enjoy

I feel my recent-ish desire to engage with life has left me writhing with a sense of reduced satisfaction because of oppurtunity cost of paths not taken. To cover all bases won't cost me much in money but will cost time, which to me is awfully valuable and finite. How do I know I'm making the best life choices.

Italian and don't know Mozart and Da Ponte? Signor...
youtube.com/watch?v=EVzKIjd1myE

I'm getting real tired of chronic sleep deprivation.

At that moment I got an erection and my penis, acting as an antenna, began picking up the microwaves that caused the crystals in my ear to vibrate at the resonant frequencies. Losing autonomous control of my body, I became a mechanical robot goosestepping in rigid movements into the grocery store.

I'm getting real thirsty because of this drought.

Ubnfortunate. We had a drought with severe water shortages about 10 years back, and it wasn't a good time.

Also not a good time: having 200% of one month's annual rainfall over the course of 24hrs.

I have known for a while why they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture, but I forget and it gets me again every single time.

I'm really gay because of dicks in my ass

I liked it too, just so you know.

The keycurves speal the inklorious fasters. No creekcrank berry toilers could upmost asainth to zenith.

I wish I could form a story. Even just characters would be nice.

*blocks your braaaaaaaaaps*

Thank you for reading it user! Do you have any constructive criticism? Same goes for this user right here

>write drunk, edit sober

it's actually pretty sound advice
if anything, being drunk just lets you get over the original inhibition that prevents you putting pen to paper

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so attached to my parents.

I'm on track to regain my emotions, and escape this nightmare I've lived for the past few years. Christ, it's been such a painfully long wait - experiencing only insolent frustration or an uncompromising blankness, present and alive in the most superficial sense, castrated at the soul, an exercise in sterility, and so on, emotions like a foreign entity to be channeled, a dull throb in the temple that simply can't get through. And maybe, it's almost over. God I hope so.

Honestly I typed it up because I was feeling empathetic to my friend who was messaging me while at a party, I like to write, and I knew it would make my drunk gf horny. Have you ever taken psychedelics? I decided to take a note from Huxley and try writing while on acid, and I made my first free verse poem that way

ouch man I didn't need that

I really want this relationship to work it out. I really like this person, it makes me feel nervous like if I were a 12 years old kid all over again.I will be good with this. I'm not going to screwed it up. I'm going to give my best.

I wish man
I've pretty much resigned myself to... maybe not dying alone, but to at least not being able to actively start a relationship like that

That line of thought brought me to a suicide attempt
I do not recommend that you follow it

everything is worthless in my reality especially me
cuz im the center of the universe, the world waiting patiently for the arrival of my hearse
nothing ever changes because time doesn't exist
the moment i was born, simultaneously everything ends
people like to act like they know anything
theoretical physicists, they all know more than me,
but in the end humanity knows improbably anything
a vast expanse of nothing essentially all that existence is
the vaster it becomes the more pointless it is
and in a straight line i will move until i die again
re-living every torture and euphoria relentlessy, iridescently
every time i hate and love my mind will radiate incessently
i hate myself, it's the way i was born, it's the reason we're made for
understanding pain is pleasure, love can't exist when we're "dead"
depressing irrelevance represents only loneliness instead
and so life is irrelevant, we'll never stop being promiscuous;
eternally damned to feel loneliness through death

the greatest pains in life bleed and decimate
and so, through gore, derive masochism endlessly
the more random it seems, the more relevant
with every moment passed, we understand what hell is;
not creation or sin, contemplation or filth
only a blank eternal everlasting worthless kiln
we don't burn only after, we're scorched eternal
lost, neutral, we simply fear the upcoming portal

inter-dimensional travel, not so far away
when suicide speaks filthy tongues, every single fucking day

Is the capitalization of Him and Her a stylistic choice or drunk accidents?

If the prior, that could be a bit interesting. I feel there may be a space between normal publishing standards and House of Leaves memery unfulfilled.

Is it really so terrible to have high standards for other people if you also hold yourself to them? The trouble, I feel, is hypocrisy, which I'm trying to avoid. I have no problem asking saintly behavior from others when I strive for it myself.

You'll know why you can't live up to your ideals if you don't but you can't know why someone else failed to live up to your standards.

I have a 3 inch dick and my dad used to sexually abuse me until I was 17 and moved to another state. On the positive side, my fiction writing uni course liked my goofy ass sci fi romance story. I liked writing the romance way more than the action, but there you go.

The age of consent should be raised to the age of 45. Sex must be hyperregulated and, ultimately, exterminated

I've been wandering if Pynchon knew about Nushu when he was writing TCOL49

I keep waking up too early and get anxious about how long the day is going to be. The library doesn't open for two and a half hours. I've already exercised. I haven't got any money. I'll probably walk and read for a few hours and by 4pm I'll be exhausted as fuck, depressed, hoping to fall asleep.

I'm a man of many mistakes yet very few regrets. One of those few regrets was ever leaving you. Even if it was the best decision I could've made at the time. You were everything to me. And I gave it away because I hated myself. Not because of anything you did, or said. I just always hated myself. I preferred my delusional dreamworld over any sort of functional reality that could've been established between the two of us. Things made sense there, but I never realized they would've down here too. In a different way though. In a way that mattered to me more than I had ever admitted to myself.

You spend so much time in your head that it becomes easy to push yourself over. To quiet the starving aspirations of an abandoned naivety. The innocence that drove you beyond the imaginary doubts of the hushed voices in your head. What I could've had with you could've been real. Beyond any politics. Beyond any anarchistic inhibitions festering into nihilistic tumors. Beyond any doubt in my mind. You were my perfect fit, and, if I had ever stepped foot to ground, I was yours. The shadow of myself unable to part with whom he belonged too now haunting my nightmares every night I awake missing you.

I took the problems I had in my past and in my childhood, the problems out of my control, and told myself that was the reason it was okay to drink. To get high. To play videogames, or to endlessly scroll through everyone's opinions I once spent four years eagerly awaiting to escape from. Because it was too hard. Because I knew I was a good person. Someone who would do great, who would take care of people. Doing my best to improve the state of our ambitious world--So why did I have to grind a 9-5 to show the world I love it? Why did the green paper say my love better than my brain and muscles; my mind and my heart -my being? It wasn't fair, and I was going to stand my ground and be myself. "Be my-fucking-self". Unbelievable. I was such a fucking child I can't stand it.

Death seems inviting when you lie back-to-back and share each other's thoughts. The patience. The peace. The solitude and thoughtlessness. It all became apart of my being. It was and is zen. I wanted nothing but it. My mind was water and my throat thirsted for what could never be physically satiated. I was too dumb to realize I longed for a metaphor. An object of symbolism, something that wasn't real. My mind was still, but my body was not ready to be still. It was dying of hunger and thirst--to the extent of believing in thoughts to falsely satisfy a carnal, physical craving. A desire twined from my mind and nerves sparking cells strung together by coils of molecular acids. Something that is more me than me but never exists to me. My desire. My desire to love, and to live, outwardly. To suffer in the hands of great friends and family, and between the great memories, good or bad, made with them.--

>I spilled over

The stars reflected in your eyes just before our first kiss were not a thought. They were real things around me that meant more to me than any hands-free mental ejaculation. As if conventional jerking off wasn't lazy enough. To believe I was so entitled that I left you to continue to do it. To cut you loose before I drug you down. Because no matter how much I loved you, and believed your every word. I knew that I wasn't going to change. I was still too afraid.

I need to stop buying books. It feels really good in the moment, but when I get home and read them, they turn to mush in my head. Even if I stop and go over a sentence several times, it never pierces my mental fog or sticks in any way. The best analogy I can give is that it's like a faded t-shirt - I get the idea, but all vibrancy and life is gone, and the activity is useless. Fuck, I don't even remember what it's like to just sit down and enjoy a book. It's been that long.

Are you a homeless mate?

I think freedom of religion is a massive lie. The only way it's sustainable is if the majority of the population keeps their religion totally private, and thus grants everyone the space to enjoy their religion in an interior way without disturbance from others. However, at least when it comes to Christianity, there's an undeniable public element to it. Christians are called to spread the Gospel, to proselytize and convert, and to prevent sin in Christ's name. This requires that the religion have a public dimension, a dimension that inescapably results in the religion imposing itself upon the civil sphere. This doesn't even begin to get into a powerful Church like Catholicism or Orthodoxy having authority and freedom of action in a civil state. And Islam is even more extreme.

So, near as I see it, freedom of religion requires that religious adherents be less than devout. And if you get a particularly devout believer, they're going to invariably bump up against the limits on action imposed on believers by permitting free exercise of religion--by not privileging one religion over others.

I already changed but it was too late

The public is a feature of the human organism -- public behavior is learned by mimesis in the same way Chomsky describes the instinctual learning of language by children. As such one could abstract (but never complete) a Generative Morality, from which all possible public human behaviors spring -- this is what Jung was aiming at. Private property, thanks to the internet, has almost completely destroyed the public by exploiting the honne-tatemae dichotomy; any public activity has become the display of private property and ownership. What this means for our generation is that we are to the public what feral children are to language; we are more and more like Tiqqun's Young-Girl, defined by negativity, Nobody in the first sense, and not the higher third sense which is nullity. What this results is people that are comparatively worse than animals.

It's not so wrong to call this age the Kali Yuga, then. There is no room for a State that is anything but a mobster gang. But! the Dharma cannot be lost forever -- by its essence it is always at work, and where the conditions for language or the public once didn't exist then came to exist, they can happen again, and the potentiality still exists in humans as a species. Furthermore, the public is not completely destroyed; the realm of the role persist in that which by its nullity is linked to the whole of perceived humanity: art. The artist being the one in whom the Apollonian instinct to shed light is so strong that he must turn to that which has no self, no repression and only exists in the eye of the beholder. This can account for why depiction is an eventuality in all religion, which is born from the apprehension of the whole, which is indepictable -- humans cannot usually have a sense of the non-self of reality due to the public, but in art the public is embodied and bounded by the public non-self of art. This is to say that any apprehension of the whole isn't a true one without sign -- the ineffable not only can't be stated, it can't not be stated. Therefore to turn to indiscriminate silence is a mistake and a lesser achievement; truly, private enlightenment -- to not be capable of modulating It to the situation is to not really have apprehended it. It holds then that the only good things in man are the artificial ones, per Xunzi. Man is both Artifex and Artificium -- an archer that shoots his self to reach his self, that is what is there after disregarding externals -- the Geist, non-mediation.

Is there anything I've forgotten to say? Well, I must still work on the vocabulary. I don't want the vocabulary to be so referential.

I AM NOT A THREAT TO MYSELF OR OTHERS

Why is everyone so sad?

Yup. And it's also the case in non-Abrahamic religions. Vashnavism and Confucianism are extremely social, and Buddhist priests are supposed to talk about Buddhism and converse people whenever they have the chance.

Freedom of religion oughta be a myth propagated by the Aeternal Anglo.

I'm not.

reading the book of proverbs I came upon the passage which reads: a hope deferred makes the heart sick.

and I felt, at once, as if something was speaking to me. This seldom happens to me when I read the bible. In fact, I only got interested in the Bible and in Christianity because it made me feel so little. Something so neutral, I thought to myself, must be very special. Irrespective of my opinions, going back to the passage, it rang true to me because I feel as if I have been fixed on a single desire for a long time. The desire is for companionship, intimacy, and love.

I have gone through Europe and through where I live and I have not found it, even a single time, even in the slightest sense, with anybody.

In vulgar terms you could express it as "tfw no gf." But it has really taken a hold of me, for years, and led to...

Anyway, it's a deep spring of despair for me. I feel like all sins are drugs, and despair is one that I'm addicted to the hardest. Thinking certain thoughts, seeing certain things, when I am in the wrong mood, makes me almost tangibly feel a thick cloud of warm velvety despair flowing through my heart like a drop of indigo die dropped in clear water. It almost feels like how I've heard people describe certain drugs. That's why I call it an addiction.

I don't say that to be maudlin. It's really the best way of describing how I feel. How long have I spent thinking and desiring. And in the meantime, as the proverb goes, my heart has gotten sick. I have ceased to be warm and I have started to burn.

For a long time, I have been burning. I feel I can say that I truly understand the orthodox conception of the last judgment, when God floods the world with his fire, and the holy feel it as light and love, and sinners feel it as an unendurable flame. So grievously does innocent joy effect me.

Now I've actually been free of that awful tendency recently. But all the same, the thought of spending time with some lady... none in particular, really some in the most general sense...

Yet just the same I have been given long divine moments of peace and joy. Of course it's better to think of that. But all this hatred and misdeed arose from a simple desire, one I saw fulfilled in my friends and countrymen, that is to feel a great love for someone, unbidden, and to feel that love returned, and to express that love intimately. I have reached a point, or a point has reached me, where I feel almost as if I can go without licentious desire altogether.

It's a queer thing, but it's how I really feel. Now I did not obtain this freedom by self-discipline, or even any big intention. It seemed to fall on me like a blanket. In fact, for a while, I was concerned, because the sensation of orgasm had almost entirely lost its appeal.

There are moments when I am consumed with hatred. Because I feel... I could have experienced a great feeling of pleasure, but because it was somehow deferred, for so long, perhaps my body has decided that I am a failure

I don't understand you. Or maybe I do, and it's not what I want. Neither tired nor hopeful, I nonetheless wait.

... and condemned me with insensibility, or even given me insensibility as a kind of mercy.

So mere envy enrages me, envy for something I feel I would no longer be able to enjoy, even if I could.

In other ways I'm afraid my capacities have all gone dull.

I was on twitter and I found a very nice lady, a kind of lady that I thought that I would never see. She was the kind of woman that I thought all women were like when I was younger and more naive. Time obliterated that dream and I tore it into pieces and locked the door. Because it gave me no end of trouble.

And then to find this girl, this girl who behaves in accordance with that ancient dream... well, it caused me a grievous sort of unhappiness. And like I have said, it felt like despair was flooding from my heart out through my chest and into my extremities and I felt absolutely dazed and filled with it.

And it was sad for me when I read that the Christians do not believe that there shall be the love between man and wife in heaven. It will all be a purer love, a kind of fraternal love.

Lately I have been tracking, or I have been wondering about something that I am afraid is a kind of evil, cosmopolitan tendency, the tendency to get lost in the clamor of the world and to fall in love with your own chains. I wonder if this big dream of love, which for so long has been the horizon of my desires, is really just falling in love with the grime of creation, with the patina, with the rust, like some disgusting decadent person. Someone intelligent enough to study the various forms of mold that form on the rocks, the fungus budding in the filth, but not intelligent or courageous enough to raise his head and look at the morning sunrise.

I shouldn't have even started thinking about it, I knew it would just bum me out.

Remember user, in order to detain you they have to establish "danger to yourself and others" as based upon an OVERT ACT or THREAT. Know your rights, please be safe, and I'm hoping you stay out of the hospital.