Describe your gf/crush/whatever in the style of your favorite author. Go

I thought the curling smoke would get mocked first, desu.

If I was breakfast, then she was dinner.

I'm not mocking you man
just making a half-assed connection about woman troubles over the internet

They confuse everyone. They look so innocent. People immediately want to protect them: censoring themselves away from talk of death, business, duplicity when they are there. It's all shortages, songs and boy friends, film and blouses...

With her hair pulled back of her ears, her soft chin in profile, she looks only 9 or 10, alone by windows, blinking into the sun, turning her head on the light counterpane, coming in tears, child's reddening wrinkling face about to cry, going oh, oh...

One night in the dark quit-and-cold refuge of their bed, drowsing to and fro himself, he licked her to sleep. When she felt his first warm breaths touch her labia, she shivered and cried like a cat. Two or three notes, it seemed, that sounded together, hoarse, haunted, blowing with snowflakes remembered from around nightfall. Trees outside sifting the wind, out of her sight the lorries forever rushing down the streets and roads, behind houses, across canals or river, beyond the simple park. Oh and the dogs and cats who went padding in the fine snow...

I feel you. I caught myself thinking that the other day about someone, but without the emo sadness I would have had in high school.

I'm going to be honest, this is some of the worst writing I have seen in my entire life.

I hope you don't do this very often.

Lel it's literally ripped from Gravity's Rainbow with names removed in two places.

Fuck you though. It's wonderful.

she poo poos on my head, i like it, tickling tingly testicles

That's one thing about it all.
Those idle thoughts aren't meant for us but invade us anyway.

Content is within, but we wish defiantly for it elsewhere.
Is it wrong to wish for a little tenderness in our lives?

I wondered for a while at what she said. She wasn't telling the complete truth, I know. But then, I doubt she knew it herself. I watched her with eyes unclouded by love or longing, and felt her own gaze clasped to mine, and felt hers clasped. I would have comforted her if I could.

Blindsided by the sheer intensity only moments ago. Now I watch the light walk further and further away.

hello my sweet were it i who hath yates yates yates

Christ, I didn't know why I found her so beautiful, but whenever she walked in, I'd act like a goddamn child, making every joke I'd ever stole just to make her happy. I hated how goddamn easy it was for me to act like such a hopeless idiot. She was a classically trained pianist, and I'd always been put off by that. All the time she'd devoted to becoming something lesser than a virtuoso had been detrimental to her behavior. She didn't act like a child, and she didn't talk like one either. What I mean is that she hurt me like only children can, and the bitch wouldn't even realize it. She'd say something like, "Have you ever thought about buying new clothes?" and it she'd say it like she'd told you your shoe laces were untied. The fact that I loved her so much made me kind of hate myself, even if only kind of.

man, she was so hot in those pants. I liked the way her boobs beamed like the moon. The way her vagina folded liked a flower in the moonlight. She had an aura of sunlight in her panties, her ankles. Her shoulders were like moonlight, in the sunlight. The fagrance of flowers in her hair, and the envelopes on her ears, like the twilight dusk of the moon, and the stars in her eyes, and the moonlight dusk on her neck. Her pants were like a fire in my heart, man. She was a hurricane and I was just jizz

i am bob

>not favorite
He woke in the night and rose and walked across the room. At the window he stopped and stood. He looked out into the courtyard. The landscapers had not come yet and so the garden beds were empty but the spring grass was thick and new and verdant. He stretched. Each part of his spine cracked and popped and a yawn caught in the back of his throat. Sharp sirens rang in the distance. His body slacked and he let the heaviness of the night drag him down to the carpet. The fan gave off a dull metallic whine. He dreamt of dewy grasses.

>when Pynchon makes you cry
I just want to be in young and in love in the deep winter again.

Is this that rich girl who did porn and hated it?

No, that's Jennifer Koch, a supermodel.

Meh.

kys

I don't like mongs, sorry.

Whose style is this in?

Certain sannyasins claim that the divine may be ensconced unknowing in human flesh, and walk among us. Her hair was that color which is darker than black, and though at times I have been tempted to touch mammaries larger than grapefruits, hers had a leanness and suppleness that almost separated her from the base line of ignoble primates. My glance strayed with a compulsion beyond my control at her walk, where surprisingly prominent hips tapered from athletic thighs, looking just soft enough to give beneath a predator's advances. She caught my eye, and the iciness there reserved for lesser mortals melted a bit, contrasting with the sable tones of her eyes and the slight darkness of her skin, and a half-smile touched her lips. It held the subtle promise of a fricatrice who might spread her legs a dozen times a night if sufficiently aroused, but would do so as discretely as possible. When I smiled in turn, she looked away, and I managed, "never mind the men upon the floor - for I am the perfect man, and you the most flawless genitrix this sorry earth has ever born. The unreachable night sky was surely made to echo your impossible mystery." And she turned, a full smirk upon her face. "You are just pathetic enough to be cute," she said, and stepped closer, with her midnight hair blotting out the sun above, and her eyes swallowing my soul with the promise of a thousand painful excoriations, trapped in a night from which there was no day.

*tapered INTO athletic thighs ... I suppose.

her arse is full of big bellowing farts

There was a time and now it's all gone by when we were poor but happy, she and I. The way we were was just the way to be. I covered her and she took care of me. And this arrangement worked perfectly. The milkman came around and I got out of bed. He left the milk and I took the money from the stand. I got the milk and then went back to bed. You see she was up working all this time. So we lived, me and my little spouse, in that small two by four, where we played house.

joyce, but maybe you could do it like the final chapter of ulysses?

I see her everywhere I look. And when I do not look, with shut eyes, when my eyelids blacken my vision, I still see her. All is dark like the night sky and she fills it like a lovely bright star - she truly is one. Not only in appearance but in relation to the distance between us. For you see I am merely an earthly telescope peering at her otherworldly shimmering light. She is light years away and I will never reach her; not for a moment, never even remotely, for as long as I will live.

I can't figure it out, but it the cadence seems familiar. Can't be hemmingway because of the happiness, and the I's are capitalized so it isn't ee cummings.

Go back to /b/ GTFO!!!

Pic related.

...

Unironically better that anything that has ever been posted in a lit crit thread, even though it's pastiche.

Her breasts were firm

I will remain a bachelor for the rest of my days as I am the lonely father to my eleven children, each unique on their own yet with obvious flaws I cannot overlook, just as the woman I love will not overlook my obvious flaws, I remain a bachelor.

Does anybody else feel unironically "triggered" by threads like this and the types of posts in them?

From the thumbnail I thought it was Al Bundy

>disparaging Pynchon

It was a wonderful morning when I saw here, one of that morning that we won't never see anymore.
"She's a girl", I thought. "And there's a guy who hugs her, he must be his brother"
She's so cathartic, an innocent creature in this meaningless void from wich only God will save us.

those mornings*

It's from the episode where Al and Peg reminisced on how he used to prostitute her.

I came.

I saw

The ass was fat.

bless your cuck heart

>boobs beamed like the moon
>vagina folded like a flower in the moonlight
>sunlight in her panties
>moonlight
>sunlight
>moon
>stars
>moonlight
>moon
>moon
>moon

i legitimately kek'd. This girl must be dating moon man.

We were at a party out in the park and I was seeping beer through a straw because my jaw was still devastated from boxing practice. Tal took the opportunity to drill a new hole in my skull with the exciting tales of his last Vampire The Masquerade adventure, knowing that I had not the vigor nor the ability to remind him that it is a natural faux pa in a social event. I endured.
"So I'm diabliziring this 13 gen caitiff, just to show his friends who's in charge, and all of a sudden Ilana breaks character completely and shoves me off. I mean, she's a Sabbat Lasombra, it didn't make any sense..."
I was trying to calculate how much alcohol would I get in my bloodstream before the pain in my mouth, as well as the pain in my ass here will subside, when she came in as salvation.
"Hey! I don't think I met you guys yet!" She was very small, and she waved even though we were standing close. She was dark but in a glistening way. Like a large delicate insect, but not the nasty kind, I mean the pretty kind?
She was pretty, is what I'm saying.
"Hey, I'm Tal. This is user. I'm telling him a story because he can't really talk and it's hard to socialize like that."
I took the straw out of my mouth, and smiled stiffly, when Tal euthanized me with "He's also a little autistic, so please be patient with him."
To which I tried to open my mouth and protest, but i couldn't, and it hurt like shit. All that came out was a moan and a mouthful of beer flavored saliva. She took a tiny step backwards.
Tal's performance was flawless. "What's your name?" he continued naturally.

>He manages to write like a retard and still delight because his timing is flawless. I, with my timing less than flawless, manage just to sound like a retard.

you mean she was fat?

last line's the killer
kek

nabokov please