Write what's on your mind

I didn't cum for three days. And when I was about to do it again it felt like my cock was about to explode, it felt like it had liquid metal in it. Ya know when you taste something metallic? That y taste felt like it was in my cock.
Am I going to die?

Write like DFW without making it so obvious you have an encyclopedia in front of you.

I want more than anything to make genuine money off of my writing abilities. The dream would be to be a famous author and make George RR Martin money, but I'd honestly just be happy to use my skills in a way that earns me a steady paycheck. I'd love to be an editor, a proofreader, a copyeditor, that sort of thing. But I can't seem to find anything like that that's stable, in spite of all the terribly crafted writing I see both in print and online. Am I just not looking in the right places?

I want to write, but I have nothing to say. I'm unable to plot out even a simple story.

I've read some of DFW, and while he might sound a bit pretentious, I think he can be startlingly beautiful sometimes.

I'd rather write like a mix between O'Brien, McCarthy and Wallace desu. That's just fucking talent and hard work intersecting at that point. I've only got the hard work part down

I was reading Aristotle too. His metaphysics does not make for very smooth reading.

no one likes me because im an asshole and its mostly because im disillusioned with everything last thing i really thought would fix me was a relationship and that sucked and made me realize that it's all shit and that im emotionally negligent or some shit that bitch was dumb anyway with all her love is real proust shit because she liked reading proust and other sheltered romantic shit so now i just fuck random broads on tinder when i get the chance

I'm stuck on the Prior Analytics, without any kind of graphics it's very hard to follow, not just because it's hard but more out of his incoherence at times.

I want to cum on all the faces of all the K-pop stars in the world.

Just had a fantastic wank to a Finnish muscle girl. Starting to really like wanking to gym girls. I shouls start going to the gym myself some day. Seems to be the most reasonable way to attract these semen demons.

i've spent my late teens into 20s completely neglecting the romantic and professional sides of life and it makes me teeter back and forth between profound regret and a sort of pride. i spent this time reading, learning, consuming great works of art, and i am satisfied with what this has done for me. however now that my feelings of loneliness and lack of accomplishment are particularly pronounced i wish i would have spent a little more time and effort chasing women and thinking about a career. i know that it's never too late, but it does feel harder to get going on these the longer you've waited.

i'm not hungry but i have a strong urge to eat this protein bar, anyway--slave to dopamine.

"i want my sweat to intermingle with your sweat," he said.

sometimes i wish i were foolish enough to be religious. i grow my hair out for two years then cut it off in a cycle. i get tired of my hair.

Please post

I'm 21 and I'm somewhat interested in a 17 year old. It feels wrong, but it also seems stupid that it feels wrong since she will be 18 in a matter of time anyway.

Who am I kidding; I'm fucked up lmao

how is that fucked up? it's only 4 years, 17 is mature and it's legal age in most states. i know a 17 year old dating a 24 year old and it's legal

>It feels wrong
What is wrong with you people?

>age of consent laws

i mean, maturity is one thing but i thought the user was concerned about legality and tied legality in with morals which shouldn't be done.
if user is genuinely interested in the girl it shouldn't 'feel' wrong. i think he probably only likes her on a superficial level.

>tfw I'm finally making social gains

what up me. got a hilariously great gf now tho and am putting down plans for inventing my own career.

I spent the entire day with a close friend. We studied together, watched a basketball game, ate lunch, and had a great time altogether.
On the way home, my mind inadvertently began to think of others around me who are going through a hard time. I questioned why? Why must I compare myself to those? Surely, life is chaotic, but I can't justify my own joy and their sadness. Afterwards, I reached home and just spiraled down into a bout of depression. Studies, my future, my own issues with my body, all of them attacked my mind and I haven't been able to move since. My deep rooted insecurities always come out whenever I face a vestige of joy. Help me.

Why "shouldn't" one cross legality and morality? Legality is just morality expressed through the power of the violence monopoly, anyway.

Not to say that there's anything "good" about the monopoly on violence, but whether you consider your morals "good" in and of themselves or tie them to the state only makes a practical difference when the supposedly independent moralist considers popular morality as valuable.

i mean the law is of course based loosely on general 'good' morals but one shouldn't rely on the law for their morals i think

It makes no difference whether one relies on the law or on their own inner compass if they amount to the same thing, that being slavery to morality. Perhaps to belong to the latter category one must be a little more intelligent, but the level of servitude is that much greater.

But if you're saying that the law is worthless, I agree. And by "worthless" I mean that the premise of its existence is either tautological or contradictory.

Fuck off retard

>i think he probably only likes her on a superficial level.
Well, yes. That's why I said "slightly interested." Ultimately it's a non-issue but she's been on my mind lately. I think I'm more concerned about the general social ramifications of showing interest in a technically underage girl. Normies don't think that's "right" and there would be consequences, and that's all that matters, regardless of my own moral inclinations.

>he's too intellectually inept to deceive even normies
kys and do the world a favor lad

>eauthaouethaoubguaebvaiuevaueguaegtuaegaaeugtauiehfuiaefueagfyageyfigeayfeyaifgiaeygfiyeagfiyuaegfyaegfyaegfyieafayieyiaeveayuvuyeg78aegfe8rgayegfyaegfyaegyaecyaeiyfg97egeauyifayiebiyaeiaefiyageiyrgaeiyrgaiegviybeuofhgjghdgeaygdvbdhivbaiussendnudeshailsatan

Friday night I went and had drinks with some friends. Since then I've had one long paranoid hangover. Why do I get invited to these events? Why do these people want a fat, jobless depressive around when they get together and talk about their engagements and their career paths and their mortgages?

Do they pity me? Surely this fucking loser would top himself if we stopped talking to him. We know it's a Sisyphean task to put up with him but it's the Christian thing to do.

Am I there to make them feel better about themselves? Maybe their engagement was a mistake, maybe they are sad in their jobs, maybe their mortgage keeps them awake at night. The least I can do is give them a moment of reprieve, remind them that no matter how bad things get it could've gone terribly, terribly worse.

Or maybe they invite me because they like me, whoever I am. I have, on occassion, been known to make a funny joke. I'm liberal with my empathy. I am thankful, now and then, that I still have friends. I wouldn't really blame them for their ulterior motives when so much of who I am is brick after ruinous brick of ulterior feelings.

I've been plagued by dreams of drowning and suffocation ever since I was a child, but I just had the magnum opus of nightmares last night. It's as if it managed to cover all of my phobias and weaknesses, even those that I myself wasn't fully aware of until now.

I've never woken feeling so terrified, and I'm not sure if I've ever felt more scared in my life, as a whole. Which is silly to put into words. The weird part is, it was almost purely because of how much joy I had initially felt from the horrific nature of what was happening. I then felt disgusted with myself and had a psychotic breakdown within the dream. After this, I was soon assaulted by a very morbid form of asphyxiation, which ended it in a very personal way, or perhaps it was just classic.

The dream itself had me doubting my own sanity for hours. I've never felt so strongly affected by my subconscious.

My life has felt like a death-flag for the past week and this almost feels like confirmation. I always felt like I'd die young, and now I'm almost certain. It's too much all at once. I'm not superstitious, but there's been too many coincidences to not believe my death is coming.

Hell, I randomly fractured my thumb just the other day from a wind-slammed door. It's getting ridiculous. And then today, I found myself caught in a thunderstorm whilst fishing a couple miles away from my car. I just wanted to escape all of the constant chaos and unpleasant people. But as soon as I set up, pitch-darkness set in from the rain clouds, my flashlight wouldn't turn on for no explainable reason, and my phone was dead. I felt like I was being constantly reminded that no matter how hard I try to find peace, I'll always be pursued by someone or something that wants to ruin every bit of my happiness. In the moment, I was almost certain that some external force had decided it wanted to kill me tonight due to how close lightning was hitting. Or, who the fuck knows, maybe I'd just step onto a snake in the darkness. I had seen one on the way up, so it was certainly apart of my paranoia as I lugged my stuff back through the forest in pitch-darkness, soaking wet, injured hand and generally feeling miserable. It wasn't even supposed to rain, but I guess that's April. Make it an aggressive thunderstorm. Fuck April.

But here I am, mostly unharmed, aside from some damaged ear drums, sitting in my bed, typing paranoid ramblings onto Veeky Forums because I'm terrified that the dream will be reoccurring. Life is abysmal.

My luck has just been down in every way imaginable, and it never ends, but I'll cut the ramblings short and go drink some more instead.

However, I did write down all of the dream. I don't know if I'll ever apply it to my writing.

Everyone likes the writing that I don't enjoy so much, and hates the writing that I feel very strongly about.
I thought art would free me from the monotony of life, when all it has done is sunk deeper.
I hate all of these fake ass, pretentious 20 somethings who read more tumblr posts than books.
90% of what people say is either lies or "good intentions"
I hope I die young and leave a great big bloody stain.

I am finally getting around to posting an atrocious book my friend and I wrote to tumblr.

Brings back so many memories.

Coop lost himself, and crushed the mirror with his own face, whence derives iconoclasm: dogs barking and pawing at their reflections in the water. David Lynch's art cannot be understood expect through the lens of egoism. That is, it may be understood in part as sections of Eraserhead are comprehended for their very divisiveness, but the totality of a film or series by this author will not be grasped as its totality unless one strives to arrive at the full ego (the sum of David Lynch's properties and more). We will start with "Twin Peaks." Before this piece, all others fall as foot soldiers to the longbow. There has never been, to my knowledge, a greater egoistic horror story than "Twin Peaks." Every pin lands in its place, and even the comedy that marks its interior serves only to the end of fearful self-annihilation. The absolute cheekiness of naming the sheriff with an Asian lover "Harry Truman" should be apparent enough, but his story ends prematurely. He possesses her objectively (that is, as an object), moves from this to an attempt at intellectual possession as most men do (i.e. to only an attempt, never a consummation), then drops back to Earth in the realization that she only ever possessed herself, though this should have been the first-order realization anyway. Her self-possession is in fact the negation of self-possession: she has only ever known herself through servility e.g. when she tilts the maid's cap toward Katherine in a gesture of fortitude. Thus, in his understanding of her as herself, he only comes to understand the many people whom she has served, and so can come to no conclusion regarding her uniqueness. He may as well be left with a glass reflection, which he conquers in the form of Jack Daniels. However, Harry does not come back to himself (in the sense of his meaningful, self-dissolving ego), but only back to himself inasmuch as he is a "lawman." Harry's relationship with Josie (and thus the US' relationship with South-east Asia) is only consummated in his return to his violent self-definition: his self-ownership as objective other-ownership. Josie in the flesh is not so lucky. She, through constant self-subjugation of her own intention to the intention of whatever other she serves at the moment, comes to a point where she must physically leave herself: the killing of Eckhart. Since she acted for nearly her entire life on the impulse of fear, the fear itself overtakes her and she suffers an -- involuntary suicide. The imagery of her face trapped within the end-table's pine knob is not lost on Dante. Josie is the supreme self-objectifier. She has only ever served and as a result only knows herself through her objectification. Without this, i.e. when she is confronted with self-determination (when she must subject herself rather than let herself be an object, that is, when she must see herself as subject), her life abruptly ends. Responsibility for her own thoughts is her greatest fear, and fear entirely consumes her.

Women are the bane of humanity's existence. Every day I curse the fact that we as men must court such heartless beasts in order to ensure the continued existence of our species. Inside all women beat a heart as black as volcanic ash; their cruelty and greed knows no bounds, and for the poor soul that is ensnared by their wicked seduction he shall surely be plundered of all his riches and wealth until there is nothing left but dust. And soon, the dust too shall be taken from him. Every day I curse my lustful gaze to lead me to sin against my better judgement and cloud my insight, as with all men. Such time could be spent extending our reach to the heavens, but alas, we are grounded, forever condemned to tending to the whims of the vile object of our primal desires as the planet slowly dies. Surely no loving God would have bestowed man with such unhappy creature that is woman.

who hurt you user?

Fucking Samantha that BITCH I HOPE YOURE HAPPY YOU FUCKING SLUT I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING AND YOU TOSS ME ASIDE LIKE A CHEAP NEWSPAPER IF WE LIVED IN A JUST SOCIETY I WOULD BE ABLE TO CURBSTOMP YOUR ADULTEROUS ASS ON THE FUCKING PAVEMENT AND I WOULD ENJOY IT

Reading Foucault has made me realize that all my self-analyses have been conducted within a framework of pop culture mediated psychology.

The result is that I have spent my internal life attempting to distinguish if I have a "real problem" or if I'm "just weird."

this post shows exactly why justice is a spook

What is this psychological thing you're considering the objective validity of?

Feeling un entertainable or having the ability to entertain others

I really wish I could just scream and bash my face bloody into a mirror or something. I don't have any particular reason for it, but I just feel this strong urge to let out primal visceral screams until my vocal chords are broken and beat my face into something until my vision is obscured by blood. I'm putting off an essay to write dumb shit on a Burkina Fasoan underwater pipe welding forum that doesn't even make any sense out of context and nobody will read or care about. You, who's reading this, is one of maybe 2 or 3 people that will glance at this and move on, forgetting entirely about my existence in a matter of seconds. Who fucking cares what's on my mind? Why should I even care what's on my mind, let alone anyone who doesn't even know who's mind it is? It's fucking stupid but I'm even dumber to still be writing. Why isn't there a pill yet for destroying all sexual and romantic desire? Sure it might destroy civilization but I would take it, no question. I'm sick of desperately trying to find evidence that women aren't all dumb hedonistic impulse-driven sluts. I'm sick of feeling tight in the chest and sick in the stomach when I stupidly stumble into believing a woman I admire might actually be different and then find out they shamelessly chat dudes up on tinder while having a boyfriend. I'm sick of being in my head so much. Sick of low outward energy but endless internal momentum. My brain won't ever fucking shut down. Maybe I need to beat my fucking face in because it will shock my brain into shutting up for two damn seconds. If I didn't have to show my face in public tomorrow I would do it.

Had a grill try to I think sex me at a hotel one night. She was drunk I was nice. I said no thank you to rubbing and pulling. Thankful no one was really there to watch the scene. Hot or not I'm a stranger- your under the influence- and I wonder if I ended up going with her. Perhaps getting murdered or being apart of human trafficking. Be questioned where I was? um insert happier ending.

mah nigga, you are regimented by ideology.

women must be considered as minds first and foremost: to consider their genitalia essential is exactly what put you in this situation

>What is this psychological thing you're considering the objective validity of?

The pseudo-material, pseudo-location where the soul meets the brain.

Which is to say, the problem with psychiatry is it has no notion of the willing subject, except that it enters as an unruly penetration into an otherwise orderly universe, and operates according to haphazard rules.

Can you explain more?

You're heard- lucky for you or not... or perhaps Im just annoucing I read what you said... Humans not women... Don't often enough think to far ahead or about others. It's not that everyone is like this, but that you need to know what you want and know what they want to don't trust anything pal... humor it but dont be hurt be the withdraws of happiness... dont let your self get lost in happiness... be true to you and dont you lie and sacrifice for another to quickly... Im trying to say nice advice but dont listen to me suggestions and advice are never answers. Life will never have a question answered correctly. :)

Wow you are a boring person. I had trouble even finishing that worthless post.

Psychiatric or psychological theory can't have a conception of the willing subject since to admit of such a theoretical model would invalidate it. That is, if the subject were willing to seek help, the subject would not need help, since the subject recognizes that it has a pathology. Also the soul is a spook: it's a convoluted way to phrase uniqueness, nothing more.

I only ask you to consider what is a more "essential" property: a brain or a vagina. Surely, a brain is more necessary. Therefore, "women" should be evaluated on the degree of their self-possession, rather than on the supplementary quality that is their sexual orifice. If the sexual orifice (the vagina) is believed to be their most important quality, then all action (i.e. all of your actions) will be oriented around this final goal and essence. The crossing of wires (the confusing of qualities with other qualities) only leads to electrical fires (psychological pathologies).

I could probably finish my master's thesis if I spend a week or so locked in my room writing and revising, so why did I spend another day doing nothing but getting fat and shitposting on Veeky Forums? Nothing said here matters unless the writer winds up arrested or dead so why do I continue to throw keystrokes into the void?

why?

Lying in bed waiting for 0530 when I have to get up. My lower legs and thighs are super itchy because my dogs get grass on their paws and I am allergic to it and they bring it in to my bed.

I'm at a loss on what to do beyond putting a blanket across that they'll step on and then just removing that when it's time for me to go to bed.

Fucking allergies. Can't afford to see a doctor so I just have to keep popping Benadryl. America is so great. Fuck this country.

(This isn't a rhetorical question. I legitimately hate this website and yet I'm celebrating 10 years of coming here. Please respond)

I once heard that the best cure for allergies was two .38 cartridges to the temple.

Thank me later

You not to insightful yourself

>letting dogs onto your bed
literally letztermensch
i can only tell you why i do it; i am an extrovert yet have very few real, living humans to communicate with. i've been coming here since 2005

Woah.... really made me think....

today, when the sun comes up and I am out skating on that new smooth pavement they have laid out recently near my house.

I will think of you. when I falter and just as my face is about to meet the concrete, I will think about you and your troubles. I hope they get better.

Also, I met this girl. who adored me, would spend thousands to travel from Sweden to England and surprise me to a weekend get away with just me and her. she was loyal to me and loved me as much as any human being could love. I cheated on her. it all ended, she doesn't know. will never know.

that girl exists out there allright and many like her do. and scumbags like me exist too. dont let it get to you bro.

good luck with the essay, keep your chin and smile.

Thanks buddy, appreciate the good vibes.
I get what you're saying, but the issue I have is with their mind, not their vaginas. I don't care about women physically fucking dudes or whatever, I care about them being immoral, weak-willed, and pleasure-seeking. I would think the same if they were binge drinking or smoking.

But if they were men existing as "immoral, weak-willed, and pleasure-seeking" beings, would you say that "all men" are like this? I'd think not, since you are most likely a man, and know better.

I would say most men are that way as well. But this requires us to both accept that women and men are fundamentally equal in their biology for it to make sense. I've tried my hardest to believe that's true, but even though I spend equal or more time around women than men, I've never met a woman who I haven't found out is hedonistic and amoral to a significant degree. I've at least met some men who have dedicated their lives to avoiding those kinds of things.

I am, as ever, unsure of whether or not I am fit to be a writer. I have trouble writing prose and composing actual stories. The most joy I've found writing is in poetry, and I've been told numerous times I'm good at it. Trouble there is poetry isn't exactly a good base for a literary career and I would really like to write a good story.
The best advice I've been given is to remain generally unconcerned with whether or not my work is good, both because its been praised many times and because its supposedly better to write for the joy of writing. But I cannot bring myself to do this. I am constantly dogged by the fear that I am a poor wordsmith.
I know this is a trivial and common problem, but I can't seem to help it. The only solution I can think of, which I'm trying out currently, is to simply write and not immediately discard what I've written, to sit on it and continue, no mater how disjointed it comes out, and then maybe try to make something of that.
We'll see where that takes me, I guess.

The problem consists in your "finding out." You look for these things("hedonism" and "amorality") in women since they confirm your preconceived notion of what a "woman" is, but with men you have no preconceived notion, since you are one. If you were a woman looking for these aspects in men, I would expect you'd find them in the same (a total) degree.

I'd also like you to define what you mean by "amoral," since "hedonism" is fairly self explanatory while amorality could be anything from nihilism to egoism.

>today, when the sun comes up and I am out skating on that new smooth pavement they have laid out recently near my house.
>I will think of you. when I falter and just as my face is about to meet the concrete, I will think about you and your troubles. I hope they get better.
This is nice. Write this book user. Write a short story like this. Maybe its kind of cheesy or dramatic, whatever, but I really like this.

It took me two hours to read Structure, Sign, and Play. I don't understand the ramifications of this text or where to place its content in a conceptual framework. Despite this, I felt the same intellectual rush I typically get from being able to properly appreciate a text and the surrounding literature. Is this Derrida's appeal? The impression of understanding where none exists?

...

I just tried this in the shower and nothing happened. I don't think your dosage recommendation was strong enough.

My dog does everything and goes everywhere with me since we are quite literally a team. SAR. It's only proper she sleeps in my bed and has been doing it since I adopted her as a three month old puppy. It's not her fault I'm allergic.

I can't believe someone actually wrote this. Ironic or not, it doesn't even matter. I can't stand people like you.

>she liked reading proust and other sheltered romantic shit
your ex is going to rape you and your new gf. you should read proust.

My girlfriend makes me happy in ways I didn't know were possible.
I liked being sad though and when she's away I'll do something like listen to Radiohead and be sad for a while.
I hope she doesn't find out, she would blame herself.

Today I dreamed that I took a bus which was driven by Herbert von Karajan.

a want of sauce on that there pic

I wish all weaboos would mysteriously vanish from the face of the Earth.

I long for death's sweet embrace. I miss being NEET.

no you fuck off you insensitive asshole (i'm sorry for being rude to you because you were rude to the other user)

I only live to see the sun rise the next morning and it's starting to bother me like an itch at the base of my neck, slowly waxing painful

the unstoppable power of the titan

I can't decide whether I should romance Makoto or Haru.

I think I'm just gonna read the Stanford page on Aristotelian logic and call it a day.

Want to submit a short story to a writing blog but am terrified it's not good enough. The anxiety is killing me.

Which blog, m8?

>Go to a hardware store like Home Depot and ask them. They'll recommend either a cheap snake or a chemical unclogger. Make sure you ask, because you have to use a special chemical for toilets. Drano and other things will fuck it up. The chemical one is a bit scary to use, but works wonders for most organic clogs.

It'll be embarrassing af, but it has to be done.

A fairly small one. I suspect the person who runs it goes on Veeky Forums however, so I'm unwilling to post it here in a critique thread or ask for others feedback for fear of being recognised.

What's the name of the blog, though, m80?

Jesus, that run-on sentence, lack of proper capitalization, and punctuation, wowee.
Different strokes for different folks.
I have no idea what you are trying to say, but have a nice day.
All I got from that was
>nudes
Are you a jobless depressive or a jobless as well as depressive person? Anyways, is maith?
Have you tried driving? It's what I do to clear my head.
Same. All I can hope for is to become a mining magnate when space transportation costs reduce and mining platinum is feasible. Then I can write all I want in Malibu, run a business, and call pretentious 20 somethings complete faggots.
Finishing something is better than not, so far as I see it. Congratulations.
Certainly an issue.
So long as you improve, continue.
Ah! You missed a clever opportunity in word choice, you scoundrel! Conducted, conducted, conducted!

...And me? Just finished a three-hour long drive, from 5am to 8am, which I definitely enjoy. A recent video has been on my mind, the one about Global Greening, certainly entertaining. I've certainly shifted to a paleo-conservative mindset, and hope that the republican establishment does so as well. I hope the estate up in Malibu passes along to me, I do wish to go there again at the very least. I also seriously hope I can record the life of my grandfather before he dies, or perhaps he is writing an autobiography, that would certainly be nice of him. I am craving sauerkraut.

>It'll be embarrassing af
Only because you're a child.

>>Ah! You missed a clever opportunity in word choice, you scoundrel! Conducted, conducted, conducted!

Shit, I missed the more than obvious association my mind came up.

Understanding the inability to change what it is what makes others, whilst noticing that because one thinks in others minds one never becomes one, really is the end to humanity.
There is no beginning nor end. All that remains is the slight feeling of need. But for what one has to find.
Living once is truely the biggest hardship one can overcome.

Plz sauce on pic I need it

It's just a cartoon, just draw one yourself.

Am I a coward for not just jumping in front of that bus?

Also, am I turning mad?

No, cowardice is for the ones who dare to not lose anything, losing everything being the coward.

Wait i didn't phrase that right. To not be a coward is knowing that one can lose everything and still going for everything.
To be a coward is to lose everything without anything to gain.