Anyone want to throw down and rent an artist studio in Vancouver or Victoria...

How much money do you have?

If we pooled our resources we could do a pretty cheap communal living.

I live in Vancouver. I've been writing a book about a NEET who organizes and performs a mass shooting at Metrotown with other three other Veeky Forums users he meets on the internet. They all wear Pepe masks and nazi armbands, and they only kill non-white people. Before police arrive they kill themselves and three of them are discovered to be trans men and one is an Adonis of a man, a poet, and a fascist. This is the author of the novel - he is writing a record of the future told to him by his mother, a sea nymph with perfect foresight. Essentially, the novel follows him in the immediate time before the shooting for a few chapters, and then goes back a few months to the beginning of summer. Then it traces his development from a depressed wreck to a confident, fit 'chad' who gets absolutely debauched, constantly, this section riffs heavily on the Beats, miller, pynchon, deleuze, that kind of stuff. The chapters are all written from the perspective of his different relationships with drugs and states of Being as he vividly conceptualizes them over the course of this hot, humid summer. The main character is schizophrenically jumping from work to work, superficially, but they're influencing him tremendously. He discovers a deep and intense fetish for transwomen and starts sleeping with them frequently. He sees it as this act of depraved poetic romanticism to let a guy fuck him in the ass for a few grams of ketamine one night. He k-holes and the guy fucks him really hard, wrecks his asshole. A few months later, in the first weeks of fall, he gets a blood test because he's decided to start donating blood, it seems like a heroic, upright thing to do. a lab discovers that he has HIV. He gets utterly depressed. He quits his graduate studies that he recently started and hits his 'qt gf' that he started dating around the same time. he leaves him. he meets three people on Veeky Forums. fin.

anyways I need a small bedroom with a lock on it in a reasonable neighborhood and I'm in to this idea.

Why don't we all squat in one of those empty houses?

If we all did it no one would murder or rape us, and when we get kicked out we'd just go to the next house. We'd be like a roving band of artists, and when we start getting famous we'll find some dumb rich literary Asian girls to support us financially/sexually.

set up cameras throughout the place and rent the place through revenue generated by youtube advertisements.

Hell I'd do it

vancouver is shitstain sity full of sinocanadian fuqqbois why you live there

I'm pretty sure the billionaires are already pushing out the millionaires in both those cities. Why don't you try a smaller town like Nanaimo?

did you read the OP? that's beside the point. Vancouver is totally affordable if you've decided to live in a gross crash house near commercial drive with 4 other guys. the point is that it is such a globalized, vacant, horrible city. the idea (and it's a relatively original one) is that its fertile ground, for this very reason, for a radical art movement.

anyways I'm totally down. keep making this thread.

This is one of the best threads I've ever seen on the internet in my life.

This just made living in Vancouver so much more unsettling for me. Inspirational in a way.

Veeky Forums meetup when? I love this city but I also despite it. Asian influence is reaching a tipping point.

>muh cucscadia

Where's the books at, though?

post 1 random paragraph so I can see the quality of your writing

creative prremise btw!

memoir kun is that you?

Why so many BC bros here? New West here.

more like cockscadia lmfao

Thats an idea.
We film ourselves flanneuring and bantering, post it on yourtube and sell art/writingclippings/whatever and between the five or so of us we'd be able to live a shitty bohemian lifestyle of poverty and discomfort.

Hey I'm chinook
>pic related

Also sounds cool, but I'm stuck in school finishing my degree until may. It's in political science and I won't have a job after so I'm down.

Vancouver sounds gay and expensive though, let's live in SW Washington on the river it's dope

This is either the worst or the greatest idea you guys had

vancouver anons what are your favorite books. i don't want to jump into something like this with the wrong kind of people.

i like murakami, 100 days of solitute, and john green's crash course history

the haida were fucking badasses

Now I'm at an ATM and I'm panicking. My heart is beating and I'm trying to remember what I spent money on. Money: plato's genie out of the bottle. pray your little heart but it wont be wrestled back. wrongfooted in the global market and you lose your shirt while a south american country loses their food supply. what to do if daddy gambles away our lives? what this means: truth is that money comes and money goes, so let us share indiscriminately and debauch until we find ourselves permanently disfigured, waking up drunk in an alley with frostbitten fingers on a cold February morning. Time is three parts illusion, only one part necessity, and the future is an absurd concept. So let us reforge hedonism irresistibly anew, wrought as a glowing idol to light the whole world's way to hell.

But let us not forget the supposed need for sustenance and shelter. As if the water were not free, excrement not edible - as if a single thing were necessary. The grand deception, us bandits standing up among the animals and spreading nonsense, speaking words. As if we were not automatons. History: the laughing fascist. I wish I could say: come with me, open your pores, open up your throat, taste everything, live like a beast off the land, until eventually ferment smells like feast. And when you do finally die after countless days it will seem as though you have slid into a feverish spiral of vomit, diarrhoea and muscular atrophy and you will sweat like a furnace though it be cold in the night, and time is stopped still, time running back and forth, and your mother murmuring to you from across the room while you beg for a glass of water.

In any case, too much talk of fascists will make your brainstem swell until you see lizardpeople lurking behind every painted face. What is needed is more language for the sunsets, more rhythmic recordings, more jokes and less explanations. Take this for example: I was at my parents' funeral. Both of them had died in a car crash. I stand to deliver a eulogy I had written. As I walk to the podium, I'm wondering why my parents, twenty-five years divorced, are being buried together. I'm sweating. I turn to face the crowd and say "Hey, everyone, how about a joke? What does the son say at his parents' funeral?... I don't know, because the punchline hasn't been delivered yet!" Silence falls, sudden gravitas. My father rises in his casket to warn me of an impending danger: the joke is a metastatic cancer that has destroyed its own centre. I turn around and suddenly see obese God Himself, lard spilling sloppy from the burst folds of his planetary form. I meet his eyes, cold blue and watery, and in a flash I see the cosmos swirling down a funnel, perhaps a great Universal Toilet. An Eternal Return to the Drain.

oh fuck this an older edit please disregard. shame desu

Not bad.

whats up, I already live in a gross house in east van with a bunch of musicians but I do want to wastefully spend my life tearing at the fabric of social sanity. I spend most of my time studying and I have talent for comedy.
the only thing i like enough to mention is oscar wilde

I would but I'm too poor even for Ukraine's standard

>tfw you will never live with fellow young Veeky Forumsizens while marathoning ulysses
Why even live

Cool idea