WHAT

It's a minor meme because of how it's written. A hex code is given for every color and everything is quantified in a pointless level of detail because the author has ocd.

Reading this now, I'm actually enjoying it despite the fact the prose has been drowned in the author's OCD antics.

I think Nick is pretty cool.

but it goes so far beyond that. He has insanely severe OCD. He plays his own fucking videogames in his head that actually obey what he knows about math and programming.

It's the thing to do if you're a sperg nowadays. Chris-chan is also a trap.

Think about what you're saying. Of course not. That doesn't make any sense from a timeline perspective.

>uses hex code to describe colour
>separates the core narrative between a separation of the 'narrator', 'knuckles' and 'knuckles as the narrator'
>calculates velocity and acceleration of a character whenever they're moving
>actions within the narrative are physically displayed with statistics and numerical modifiers (people and monsters have 'stats', people get hurt have actual text appear in the world floating near them describe what numerical damage they've taken)
>describes text in what font, spacing and sizing it has
>manages to have very diverse cast of characters (in both gender, ethnicity or species) without you even realizing it
>creates an underlying narrative to juxtapose the extremely dreamlike world of Knuckle's journey that challenges even the most attentive of readers

this book is something else

This is what happens when your whole living context is based in fabricated virtual experiences and not a physical reality.

We all live in a virtual experience.

I know, it's fantastic

Now I want to read this.

Careful buddy you're like a half step away from triggering the solipsistic police.

I would describe its genre as ascended memecore. Memecore consists of hypersphere, tundra and MTW. TLOT10EM is the only work I am aware of worthy of this designation.

It's a legitimately interesting work, the narrative is surprisingly complex despite the seeming banality of the themes used and abused therein.

Ulillillia is an excellent storyteller. He does it for a living.

Ulillillia is great. I have actually read most of his web site 4 years ago when I discovered him. For those who are interested, take a look. He writes everything about his life there.

ulillillia.us/mainindex.shtml

>the solipsistic police

you mean hunger and sickness right

sometimes I think the human format is just a platform for a distributed garbage collector and database in a networked VM

>Chris-chan is also a trap
WHAT THE FUCK
didn't the chap hated homos? what the hell went wrong?

youtube.com/watch?v=H2A1qYpp4HA

That's a lot effort to eat a pizza

This guy has nice feet

Self loathing perhaps?

Don't forget William T Vollman

It's some really autistic shit. He calls himself a "tomgirl" and rationalizes it as not being queer somehow.

That's not him you inbred mongoloids.

wow thanks for the spoiler

I hate it when people do that. If it's that greasy don't buy it in the first place, it's obviously terrible food.

someone post the timelapse passage please

Have any of you read this one?

holy FUCK theres a barbershop in the basement??

>tfw I tricked my lit major friend into reading it but he actually enjoyed it

I thought the quantification thing was a symptom of autism not ocd
CWC does the same thing

I own it. Only flipped through it. A comparison can be made to Samuel Beckett's Watt, and Geometric Regional Novel by Gert Jonke.

Did you not actually read it and just assume it was bad because Uli's OCD seeps into the stylistic choices he makes throughout the book? It is more than just a meme classic like MTW which is only ironically good, it is a completely unique work in terms of style and narrative form as far as I'm concerned.

TLOT10EM has earned its place on my shelf more than many of the other books I keep on it.

>ImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsocleverImsoclever

Does anyone have a PDF or epub or something of it? Yes I looked.

mega.nz/#!m9RRDS6R!c1AloPgij3WUaA2XoJbwBY-MIOUvRlGAjmMOPtx2NjU

Which two bad words is he afraid of, Veeky Forums?

The creator of The Brick Testament, Brendan Powell Smith, also turned into a trap. He's asking people to call him "Elbe Spurling" now.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Brick_Testament

person and people, funny considering he's borderline autistic as well as having severe OCD

What the fuck? I loved the Brick Testament when I was younger.

Christ.

You're the man!

>Some people think this isn't symptomatic of a mental disorder.

That's a common misconception. Autism tends to come with some degree of OCD, but OCD doesn't necessarily have to come with autism. It's easy to mix the symptoms up.

OCD can have plenty of different and sometimes (seemingly) paradoxical symptoms, its about obsessions and compulsions that cause anxiety, not any specific hing that the sufferer has to do to avoid the anxiety. someone does this and someone else does that, the connecting factor s in the why and how, not the what

the guy obsessive about hygiene, washing his hands until they bleed, might actually never clean up their house at all, because avoiding touching dirty things is how he tries to deal with the anxiety about it, etc. another sufferer might indeed spend all his time cleaning his house.

who is this semon denim

you jest but he basically did, TLOT10EM is more profound than anything to come out of that sordid clique

It's not like it takes much to be better than those clowns.

I have it on my kindle. My favorite things about it are that none of the married adults seem to sleep in the same room (parents, aunt & uncle, grandparents) and that the students refer to the principal by her first name.

One kind of freaky thing though is a punishment chair where a bully gets restrained to a chair. It appears these kind of things actually are legal in some states. I think uli must have been stuck in one.

I took advantage of being at the seaside to lay in a store of sucking-stones. They were pebbles but I call them stones. Yes, on this occasion I laid in a considerable store. I distributed them equally between my four pockets, and sucked them turn and turn about. This raised a problem which I first solved in the following way. I had say sixteen stones, four in each of my four pockets these being the two pockets of my trousers and the two pockets of my greatcoat. Taking a stone from the right pocket of my greatcoat, and putting it in my mouth, I replaced it in the right pocket of my greatcoat by a stone from the right pocket of my trousers, which I replaced by a stone from the left pocket of my trousers, which I replaced by a stone from the left pocket of my greatcoat, which I replaced by the stone which was in my mouth, as soon as I had finished sucking it. Thus there were still four stones in each of my four pockets, but not quite the same stones. And when the desire to suck took hold of me again, I drew again on the right pocket of my greatcoat, certain of not taking the same stone as the last time. And while I sucked it I rearranged the other stones in the way I have just described. And so on. But this solution did not satisfy me fully. For it did not escape me that, by an extraordinary hazard, the four stones circulating thus might always be the same four. In which case, far from sucking the sixteen stones turn and turn about, I was really only sucking four, always the same, turn and turn about. But I shuffled them well in my pockets, before I began to suck, and again, while I sucked, before transferring them, in the hope of obtaining a more general circulation of the stones from pocket to pocket. But this was only a makeshift that could not long content a man like me. So I began to look for something else ...

I might do better to transfer the stones four by four, instead of one by one, that is to say, during the sucking, to take the three stones remaining in the right pocket of my greatcoat and replace them by the four in the right pocket of my trousers , and these by the four in the left pocket of my trousers, and these by the four in the left pocket of my greatcoat, and finally these by the three from the right pocket of my greatcoat, plus the one, as soon as I had finished sucking it, which was in my mouth. Yes, it seemed to me at first that by so doing I would arrive at a better result. But onfurther reflection I had to change my mind and confess that the circulation of the stones four by four came to exactly the same thing as their circulation one by one. For if I was certain of finding each time, in the right pocket of my greatcoat, four stones totally different from their immediate predecessors, the possibility nevertheless remained of my always chancing on the same stone, within each group of four, and consequently of my sucking, not the sixteen turn and turn about as I wished, but in fact four only, always the same, turn and turn about. So I had to seek elswhere than in the mode of circulation. For no matter how I caused the stones to circulate, I always ran the same risk. It was obvious that by increasing the number of my pockets I was bound to increase my chances of enjoying my stones in the way I planned, that is to say one after the other until their number was exhausted. Had I had eight pockets, for example, instead of the four I did have, then even the most diabolical hazard could not have prevented me from sucking at least eight of my sixteen stones, turn and turn about. The truth is I should have needed sixteen pockets in order to be quite easy in my mind. And for a long time I could see no other conclusion than this, that short of having sixteen pockets, each with its stone, I could never reach the goal I had set myself, short of an extraordinary hazard. And if at a pinch I could double the number of my pockets, were it only by dividing each pocket in two, with the help of a few safety-pins let us say, to quadruple them seemed to be more than I could manage. And I did not feel inclined to take all that trouble for a half-measure. For I was beginning to lose all sense of measure, after all this wrestling and wrangling, and to say, All or nothing. And if I was tempted for an instant to establish a more equitable proportion between my stones and my pockets , by reducing the former to the number of the latter, it was only for an instant. For it would have been an admission of defeat. And sitting on the shore, before the sea, the sixteen stones spread out before my eyes, I gazed at them in anger and perplexity ...

One day suddenly it dawned on me, dimly, that I might perhaps achieve my purpose without increasing the number of my pockets, or reducing the number of my stones, but simply by sacrificing the principle of trim. The meaning of this illumination, which suddenly began to sing within me, like a verse of Isaiah, or of Jeremiah, I did not penetrate at once, and notably the word trim, which I had never met with, in this sense, long remained obscure. Finally I seemed to grasp that this word trim could not here mean anything else, anything better, than the distribution of the sixteen stones in four groups of four, one group in each pocket, and that it was my refusal to consider any distribution other than this that had vitiated my calculations until then and rendered the problem literally insoluble. And it was on the basis of this interpretation, whether right or wrong, that I finally reached a solution, inelegant assuredly, but sound, sound. Now I am willing to believe, indeed I firmly believe, that other solutions to this problem might have been found and indeed may still be found, no less sound, but much more elegant than the one I shall now describe, if I can ...

Good. Now I can begin to suck. Watch me closely. I take a stone from the right pocket of my greatcoat , suck it, stop sucking it, put it in the left pocket of my greatcoat, the one empty (of stones). I take a second stone from the right pocket of my greatcoat, suck it put it in the left pocket of my greatcoat. And so on until the right pocket of my greatcoat is empty (apart from its usual and casual contents) and the six stones I have just sucked, one after the other, are all in the left pocket of my greatcoat. Pausing then, and concentrating, so as not to make a balls of it, I transfer to the right pocket of my greatcoat, in which there are no stones left, the five stones in the right pocket of my trousers, which I replace by the five stones in the left pocket of my trousers, which I replace by the six stones in the left pocket of my greatcoat. At this stage then the left pocket of my greatcoat is again empty of stones, while the right pocket of my greatcoat is again supplied, and in the vright way, that is to say with other stones than those I have just sucked. These other stones I then begin to suck, one after the other, vand to transfer as I go along to the left pocket of my greatcoat, being absolutely certain, as far as one can be in an affair of this kind, that I am not sucking the same stones as a moment before, but others. And when the right pocket of my greatcoat is again empty (of stones), and the five I have just sucked are all without exception in the left pocket of my greatcoat, then I proceed to the same redistribution as a moment before, or a similar redistribution, that is to say I transfer to the right pocket of my greatcoat, now again available, the five stones in the right pocket of my trousers, which I replace by the six stones in the left pocket of my trousers, which I replace by the five stones in the left pocket of my greatcoat. And there I am ready to begin again. Do I have to go on?

There was something more than a principle I abandoned, when I abandoned the equal distribution, it was a bodily need. But to suck the stones in the way I have described, not haphazard, but with method, was also I think a bodily need. Here then were two incompatible bodily needs, at loggerheads. Such things happen. But deep down I didn't give a tinker's curse about being off my balance, dragged to the right hand and the left, backwards and forewards. And deep down it was all the same to me whether I sucked a different stone each time or always the same stone, until the end of time. For they all tasted exactly the same. And if I had collected sixteen, it was not in order to ballast myself in such and such a way, or to suck them turn about, but simply to have a little store, so as never to be without. But deep down I didn't give a fiddler's curse about being without, when they were all gone they would be all gone, I wouldn't be any the worse off, or hardly any. And the solution to which I rallied in the end was to throw away all the stones but one, which I kept now in one pocket, now in another, and which of course I soon lost, or threw away, or gave away, or swallowed ...

>sometimes I think the human format is just a platform for a distributed garbage collector and database in a networked VM
Then why haven't you been collected yet?

his dream journal is great:

>Dream 7-32: Life and death secrets in school
>Occurred on Dec 23, 2005; general - 7; nature - 8!; story - 7; scenery - 6; fun - 6.5; scary - 1; weird - 7!; imagery - 60% in tact; dream - 65% in tact

>This dream seems to give an insight to what it's like after death or before birth and was otherwise weird. This took place in a strange building sort of like my elementary school. In this room, there were tables much like those of my life-science classroom during my middle school years having black tops, but without the sinks.

>One part I recall is drawing something (folded cards with names on them) from a revolver made of chicken wire (metal in a grid-like pattern having 1 centimeter squares). I draw out the name "Louc Lu", pronounced as "Loo Loo". The spelling of "Louc" isn't fully certain, but it's very close as it began with "Lo" and was four letters. The second part is completely certain. When I draw it out and open it, I take about 5 seconds to figure out how to pronounce it them I spell it out.

>I was then lectured on birth and death and the times between each. The "teacher" said that Shakespeare was among us right now, just a new body and name according to some stats. In front of everyone was a huge wheel about 5 feet in diameter containing the life cycle of someone. "Renewal" was at the 12 o'clock position, birth at 1, adulthood at 3, old age at 8, and death at the 11 o'clock position. I have a feeling that this means there are 15 years after death before you are given a new life.

>The next part was where it was lunch time. I had pizza. The early part of lunch I don't recall, but I do recall, after eating, getting a secret photo and using it for a free bonus meal. The photo was of a pretty lighthouse up front and the ocean in the background. The lunch area was almost an exact copy of the one in my elementary school with only minor changes. On the stairs leading down to the cafeteria, I noticed strange white squiggly lines like water waves. Some others picked them up. There were three other pictures remaining. I picked the one with the wavy lines which gave me the only one I can describe.

DID JUST I HEAR SOMEONE MENTION PHILOSOPHICAL IDEALISM? I'M GOING TO NEED YOU TO STEP OUT OF THE CAR SIR

He is clever.

we all do. at least anyone's who's not a moron

I thought he just liked to crossdress?

>So you want to be an author.

Isn't Willy done cross dressing?

his website hasn't been updated in a while. I wonder what he's doing these days

That's not him.

Someone give me an analysis of this NOW so I can decide if this man is the new Joyce or Green?

youtube.com/watch?v=N84YPapgsGU

That or you are transmorbid like myself. Us aspies don't care to deal with the cut and thrust of male adult life.

The river?

Why would he sic a police squadron on himself?

he is a living Borges narrator

Underrated kek.

What is the purpose of this post?

I'm gonna read this.

Oh that's that faggot who writes shitty CYOAs

I've seen his fat sister naked and so has he.

Tell me more.

(√M)

THE LEGEND OF THE !) ELEMENTAL MASTERS
{MEDIOCRE CGI COVER ART}
BY NICK SMITH (AKA "ULISOMETHING")

Someone dug up a naked picture of his sister.

Yes, I would definitely describe that cover art as mediocre.

at least post it then

I'll see if I can find it.

...

O shut up

Fuck me that's disgusting.

Learning to swim in deep water and trying to move out.

Is there a scan of this book anywhere for free? I've wanted to read this for years but I'm poor.

see

Any other works that are this autistic lads?

yes

fanfiction.net/s/4112682/1/The-Subspace-Emissary-s-Worlds-Conquest

>Chapters: 221
>Words: 4,047,360
>6. Master Hand Is Such The Boss
>13. Your Harp Makes My Heart Go Crazy, Bird
>31. If That Thing Is A Bug, My Name Is Louie
>41. Roy is NOT our boy
>93. Yoob's Belly: Fat Alien Yoshi's Stomach
>126. Return of the Retarded
>162. Why NPC's Are So Important: Part 1