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Alright folks everyone here's probably seen/heard/read about tribulations Gahoole's gone through so I figured now's as good a time as any to thingify up and quorum as to the future of the board.

/lit/'s activity has stabilized to a level that's quite preferable for BO like myself (p. quiet moast ov time, long stretches between replies, general solid contributive effort and poast quality overall as consequence) and the only thing I would personally like to change about that is curating literary werks frum board populace to distribute accordingly to masses/uninitiated/non-littified lachrymose lackolytes ov smellin wat the rock's cookin.

This is why I am announcing the launch of the /LIT/TYZEN'S FEUILLETON - a conglomerated selection ov /lit/ty submissions and quality poasts frum the board published every 4 months ean stripped down, minimalist format focusean awn text transmitted, gnawt impetuousness acquitted by niftiness oar committed 2 obsequious butterbawlean ov present day curator (aka ur cicisbeo BO, mie %^> )

Potential (perpetuity'd) pieces for the /LIT/TYZEN'S FEUILLETON include:

- Excerpts from current standing of the "/lit/ writes a novel thread"
- Excerpts from any recent progress on a /lit/ board project
- Board defining poasts or threads, transcribed in their entirety/includean relevant image poastings
- Anything you desire to transmit to [email protected] that passes behe/lit/ty /lit/muster test

The plan is to have a larger, free-wheeling document snapshotting poastings/contributions @ the time of inception as opposed 2 focused sifting for "literary" logorrhea value OR holistic proprietorship of literary media proffered 2 public - feel free to submit werks u would submit 2 other places or have submitted before.

If anyone has requests/complaints/critiques about the board/the mag/etc., poast'm here. More information will be coming sewn about deadlines for first issue but eye'd want it aot there by January 2021 @ latest.
2 posts omitted. Click reply to view.


Make some high quality posts then, fuccboi

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1. Global rules relating to illegal/board-jeopardizing content are enforced.
2. Slander/libel Dwayne "Wanton Waylaid Bercesure-Jobber Names" "The Rock" Johnson at ur own peril.
3. As much as possible keep discussion related to literature or its creation/critique. Philosophy threads should preferably pertain to a direct written source (this definition's flexible in anticipation of wat ppl like 2 use these boards 4) , branching out accordingly. /lit/ boards regularly serve as catch-awls for "social science" discussion, which suffices in moderation but doesn't excuse eschewing conversation about the board's chosen topic + its baseline medium (writtan + reedan).

This will serve as holding grounds for collective /lit/izens blasted to the four winds after the kunpocalypse to regroup or form a new home. Once metrics justify attempt @ consensus I will post stickied meta thread evaluating what the community wants the board to focus on and we'll proceed from there.

/lit/ will inevitably (and hopefully) remain a slow board, so post appropriately Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

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Post all personal writing projects (zines/poetry collections/essays/fiction/etc.) or links to such in this thread.
7 posts and 2 image replies omitted. Click reply to view.


>t. vol 3

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Why is Sweden incapable of making good literature? Denmark, Norway, Iceland and even fucking Finland have all created great literature, so why can't Sweden do it?


Because that would require them to take an african phallus out of their mouths for a few minutes and that's illegal there.


seriously though, the dragon with a girl tattoo series is insanely overrated. The first book was alright but like the second was very dry and long winded. The overbearing feminism and feminist revenge porn/power fantasy scenes are vomit inducing, lilly or whoever is an absolute mary sue, and the approach to hacking and computers is pathetically laughable to anyone with even a basic understanding of tech. In the second book she gets shot in the head and buried alive for a whole night but has the energy to dig her way out the next morning to dig her way out, navigate through the woods and axe murder her daddy issues. Tripe.


for the record I never bothered with the third because the second was too awful


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Eat my ass.


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>*blocks your path*

YouTube embed. Click thumbnail to play.


Post short stories being read, good readings of longer books or radio dramas here.


YouTube embed. Click thumbnail to play.
Second part.


YouTube embed. Click thumbnail to play.
The BBC used to do some great audio dramas.

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What manga have you been reading, /lit/?
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>jumps the shark in execution
Yeah, he really explains too much in his stuff. Amigara Fault was the same way. I think mysetery is one of the keys 2 horror.


I've been reading Berserk again. Anyone else thing the Golden Age arc is actually kind of bad? Obviously it's a very essential part of the story, and it enhances everything else by existing, but it's a real slog to read in places. I really love the simpler arcs where Guts is just roaming around like Clint Eastwood, getting caught up local disputes, and fighting monsters.


Golden Age is the worst arc of Berserk, easily. I don't know why normalfags pretend to like it. But then again they think Berserk is some great writing or something.


People who start with the anime, or don't even read the manga, I guess.


>People who start with the anime
I guess that makes sense, anime makes Golden Age much more passable than the manga.

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"Literature"? What are you, gay? We'll have none of that nonsense in this thread. Come and talk about stories about cool things for men.
>nuuuuh, but my poetry
I will literally beat you up.

What are your favourite books? Who are your favourite writers? What are you reading now? What do you plan on reading, but have not yet gotten around to?
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I could swear there are older posts in this thread that didn't exist earlier this week.

Go read it if you feel inclined in the least: her breeding material frame comprises a reduced amount of the book but martians die for getting in the way of Carter and the customarily almost naked princess.
Worse that can happen is that you finished a book. >>122 gives glowing recommendation.


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>I like big tits
try Wheel of Time


Blah, the only kinky shit in those books is all the lesbo spanking. You want some fucked up kink fantasy read Terry goodkind's sword of truth series. Some sick shit.


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Pulp is kino.


Finished Lord of Light. Very good book, and I would recommend, though the set up was a little better than the pay-off, and there were certain things I wish had been elaborated on more. Though maybe that's the point. Just to give the smallest slice of a struggle against immortals that has been going on forever, and will continue to go on.

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It was with a peculiar sense of unease that I set out on my visit to the Hasbrouck residency at the behest of a worried mother. Her frantic calls to my medical practice had filled me with concern and a sense of unexplainable dread; it was her vague comments regarding her son's deteriorating mental and physical health which made me ill at ease, not because of anything definite, but the added sum of her vague suspicions, and what she hinted at, what she left unsaid. The pleading tone of her voice had at last convinced me to go on a home visit and examine her son. It was a chilly late autumn afternoon in late October, and the darkened, low-hanging clouds held the promise of rain. As I approached my destination the surroundings filled me with an overwhelming sensation of profound gloom and decay; the atmosphere was curiously dense and oppressive, highly concentrated, almost palpable. The house was located right next to a parking lot and the highway, but despite of this I was struck by a sense of isolation and extreme remoteness, like this property existed outside of the busy and chaotic world surrounding it.

The surrounding garden was in a most sorrowful state; left to waste away untended thorough years of neglect. There stood oddly twisted and gnarled trees whose roots drew nutrition from the diseased, watersoaked earth; in their shade grew pale, worm-eaten fleshy fungi among the rotting leaves in great numbers. A utility trailer of severe dilapidation and surrounded by weeds caught my eye as I made my way towards the entrance. The house itself was a ramshackle building of advanced dilapidation, giving off a strong aura of abandonment and neglect, and I couldn't help but wonder how people could have allowed things to slip so far into decay and abandonment. The paint was peeling and much cracked; dry-rot and fungi seemed to have infested the building long ago. As far as could be ascertained the curtains in every window were drawn shut, and I was struck by the thought that the house was slumbering.

I knocked on the door, and it appeared my arrival had been expected, for the door was opened quickly. "Mrs. Hasbrouck?" I greeted, looking at the woman who stood in the doorway. She nodded her head and quickly ushered me inside the darkened interior. She was not old, but her appearance was somewhat haggard and she appeared weary and tired. She might once have been a woman of some beauty, and it was sad to see how the worn and neglected outside of the hoPost too long. Click here to view the full text.


As I held onto the wall for support, another smell made itself known; the malodorous odour of unwashed genitalia and sour sweat was of the most offensive kind - the rank stench permeated the dimly lit basement room, and felt my eyes begin to water as I fought the urge to gag. "Zach?" I called out as I had reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked out at this subterranean dwelling my patient had occupied for so long in solitude. There was a strange kind of grunt in response, in a harsh-sounding tone, though without any intelligible words. I introduced myself as my eyes searched for its source. He sat on a swivel chair in front of a desk littered with all kinds of knick-knack and trash. His head was turned towards me in an unnatural angle, and I was at once struck by the impression that his neck was abnormally malformed and twisted. "Where's the light switch?" I wondered aloud, searching the surroundings in the awful gloomy dimness with my fingers. "No! No light! And close the door!" came a sudden, sharp exclamation from my patient. "But it's so dark in here!" I protested, though obeying his wishes. "Yes, deliciously dark," he said in a voice that made me shudder; it was somehow gibbering and gelatinous, and it filled me with a strong sense of uneasiness and loathing unlike any I had ever felt before. "I can hear the mould growing in the dark, and the rising damp climbing up the bed-legs," Zach continued with a sigh of cocksment, before turning his attention back towards the computer screen.

Though I knew his exact age from his worried mother, I could not have guessed it based on his appearance alone. He had a ghoulishly sallow complexion, and his shifty squinting slant-eyes betrayed his Asiatic ancestry. He gave off the impression of being somehow malformed, though I wasn't able to point to anything definite, though he was noticeably bow-legged, and hunchbacked. The only sound was that of his fingers eagerly tapping away at the crusted keyboard. With some difficulty I was able to find a way over to him over the floor so littered with trash, and up close, in the glow of the computer screen his sallow complexion took on a truly sickly tone, like pallid and mottled, and the gleam in those shifty eyes caused me to shudder. He didn't dignify my presence as he kept typing furiously on the keyboard - all Caps Lock it seemed. "You mother called me, told me to check in on you," I began feeling my mouth go dry as I spoke in this acrid atmosphere. He turned Post too long. Click here to view the full text.


That realisation made me break from the horrible grip of fear, and launched me into action at last. I grasped the bat, and before the shambling shape in the darkness before me could react I struck it with full force. Time after time I swung the bat, and my horror only intensified at the hollow sound as the bat struck the body, till at last it burst open like a bladder from the force of the blows. It was as if his body was as hollow, soggy and worm-eaten as the half-decayed fungi in the garden outside, for there was a softness to the rotten hollow body as if the bone had become mushy, and even after the head had caved in the body continued to tremble and writhe about on the floor. Still, I knew that it would be an unforgivable sin not to continue until all was over.

When the rage and shock which had alone saved me began to subside I dropped the bat with a clatter to the floor and staggered backwards towards the stairs. I felt nauseated and light-headed from the rush of adrenaline, and my mind was still ringing from the dreadful shock my nerves and senses had been subjected to.

As I ascended the basement stairs, leaving the thing which had masqueraded as a human on the floor behind me, I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I cannot even begin to guess at the relief his parents and sister would feel. I staggered into the hallway and shut the basement door behind me. The mother stood in the doorway to the parlour, her hands clutching at the wall in nervous agitation and for support. "It's finally over," I stuttered. Her eyes searched mine for any final confirmation that the horror was over; after so many years, could she dare to hope? "It's finally over," I repeated, a little more calmly and held her gaze till the realisation finally sunk in, and she fell to her knees and thanked the Lord; her frail body shaking with tears of joy and relief that the nightmare that finally been brought to an end.

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>Uh, anon, why do you have a book written by the Unabomber on your shelf? You know that guy is a murderer don't you?


That's fine, I can seperate an author from his work.

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Billy And The Clown is an overlooked work of legitimate historic merit. During the live narration debut of this work MDE's Sam Hyde proclaimed it to be a long studied legend of uncertain origin, intended to be featured in what turned out to be the groups first and only print publication which for various reasons in this instance shall remain unnamed. Neither of these assertions turned out to be true.

Billy And The Clown is an overlooked work of legitimate historic merit. During the live narration debut of this work MDE's Sam Hyde proclaimed it to be a long studied legend of uncertain origin, intended to be featured in what turned out to be the groups first and only print publication which for various reasons in this instance shall remain unnamed. Neither of these assertions turned out to be true.

Today overshadowed by the tragedy/memes/comeuppance visited on the creative minds behind Billy And The Clown, the work has become widely disregarded, if known at all, by academia and the culture at large. This is an injustice to both the the wider public and to the post-ironic modern bildungsroman, crypto-genius genre-bending cultural satire, and performative monologue itself, that is Billy And The Clown. Not only is the work extremely complex thematically and comedically, but the manner in which it captures and brings to life an element of experience known to many that may be wholly unique to the modern psyche is singular in nature. In a way the story of Billy And The Clown is the story of all of us, and therefore possibly one of contemporary literature's (if not greatest, and if not good,) only modern great American novels.

This is something that has to be done. Thus here proposed is the beginning of a public work: The Literary Analysis of Billy And The Clown.

For those interested and therefore intending to review the work again, or perhaps unfamiliar with the work entirely, I've found a re-upload of the original event in it's entirety (stranger's channel). I recommend this version over the more widely available abridged videos as the periodic ~13 minute intervals of Hyde's coughing, snorting, shouting at his computer and surroundings, or simply leaving the desk and room the camera is stationed in for multiple indeterminate periods of time, as well as the presumably unchoreographed musical interlude dancing to the entirety of 'Clubbed To Death' by Rob Dougan are as much an integral part of the full experience as any other.

It wPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

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