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post ~literally me~ literature Anon 01/12/2023 (Thu) 08:49:28 ID:d04d78 No. 1366
The problem now and it was a new one for me was my dick. It probably sounds strange now, but in the Seventies nobody really cared how big their dick was. When I was a teenager I had every conceivable hang-up about my body except that. I don't know who started it -queers probably, though you find it a lot in American cop shows, but there's no mention of it in Sartre. Whatever, in the showers at the gym I realized I had a really small dick. I measured it when I got home - it was five inches maybe five and a half or six if you measured right to the base. I'd found something new to worry about, something that I couldn't do anything about it was a permanent handicap. It was round about then that I started to hate blacks. There weren't many of them in the school most of them went to the Lycee Pierre-de-Coubertin where the eminent Defrance did his philosophical strip-tease and propounded his pro-youth filth. I only had one in my A stream class, a big, stocky guy who called himself Ben. He always wore a baseball cap and a pair of Nikes; I was convinced he had a huge dick. All the girls threw themselves at this big baboon and here I was trying to teach them about Mallarme what the fuck was the point? This is the way the world ends, I thought bitterly, people worshipping in front of big dicks, like hamadryas baboons. This black guy was going out with the girl I would have chosen myself blonde, very pretty, with a child like face and small firm tits. They were always holding hands in class. I always kept the windows closed while they were working the girls would get hot and take off their jumpers, their tee shirts stuck to their breasts; hidden behind my desk, I'd jerk off. >t. CEO of frog literature
>>1366 atomised by michel
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Crete was liberated, the fleets had orders to leave. "And what is to become of me?" I said, seizing the four beards. "Where are you going to leave me? I have got used to grandeur, to champagne and roast chicken; I have got used to handsome little sailors saluting me; I shall be four times a widow! What is going to become of me, my lords and admirals?" 'Oh, they just laughed - that's men for you! They loaded me with English and Italian pounds, roubles and napoleons. I stuffed them in my stockings, in my bodice and in my shoes. On the last evening I wept and sobbed so much the Admirals took pity on me. They filled the bath with champagne, plunged me in it - we were very familiar by then -and they drank the champagne from the bath in my honour. They got drunk and put out the light.... 'In the morning I could smell all their perfumes on top of each other: the violet, the eau-de-Cologne, the musk and the patchouli. The four great powers - England, France, Russia and Italy - I held them here, here on my knees, and I went like this with them ...' Dame Hortense held out her plump little arms and moved them up and down, as if she were bouncing a baby on her lap. >zorba the greek
>>1367 Brutal book.
>>1369 >based and frogpilled book
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>a french couple, an asian couple and an american couple enter the bar >the french guy leave the pub alone, giggling to himself
>>1370 I know way too many German men who are like charatcers from this book. No wonder it sells well here.
>>1377 > picrel
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>>1366 “Twin primes: pairs of prime numbers that are close to each other, almost neighbors, but between them there is always an even number that prevents them from truly touching. If you have the patience to go on counting, you discover that these pairs gradually become rarer. You encounter increasingly isolated primes, lost in that silent, measured space made only of ciphers, and you develop a distressing presentiment that the pairs encountered up until that point were accidental, that solitude is the true destiny. Then, just when you’re about to surrender, when you no longer have the desire to go on counting, you come across another pair of twins, clutching each other tightly.” ― Paolo Giordano, quote from The Solitude of Prime Numbers
>>1379 “Prime numbers are divisible only by 1 and by themselves. They hold their place in the infinite series of natural numbers, squashed, like all numbers, between two others, but one step further than the rest. They are suspicious, solitary numbers, which is why Mattia thought they were wonderful. Sometimes he thought that they had ended up in that sequence by mistake, that they'd been trapped, like pearls strung on a necklace. Other times he suspected that they too would have preferred to be like all the others, just ordinary numbers, but for some reason they couldn't do it. This second thought struck him mostly at night, in the chaotic interweaving of images that comes before sleep, when the mind is too weak to tell itself lies. In his first year at university, Mattia had learned that, among prime numbers, there are some that are even more special. Mathematicians call them twin primes: pairs of prime numbers that are close to each other, almost neighbors, but between them there is always an even number that prevents them from truly touching. Numbers like 11 and 13, like 17 and 19, 41 and 43. If you have the patience to go on counting, you discover that these pairs gradually become rarer. You encounter increasingly isolated primes, lost in that silent, measured space made only of ciphers, and you develop a distressing presentiment that the pairs encountered up until that point were accidental, that solitude is the true destiny. Then, just when you're about to surrender, when you no longer have the desire to go on counting, you come across another pair of twins, clutching each other tightly. There is a common conviction among mathematicians that however far you go, there will always be another two, even if no one can say where exactly, until they are discovered.” “Mattia thought there was nothing good about having his mind. That he would happily have unscrewed it and replaced it with a different one, or even with a package of biscotti, provided it was empty and light. He opened his mouth to reply that feeling special is the worst kind of cage that a person can build for himself, but he didn't say anything.”
>>1366 Bump. I wanna know what lit other anons relate to.
>>1377 germans or french all these cunts are the same breed
>>1430 Not at all. The differences are very strong esp in todays context. But this thread is not about the usual Euroshit talking points. Looking forward to some kino lit moments. If not, ill post some more of my own.
Stoner is "literally me"-tier literature in every sense. We may not be cucks but we are very-well mediocre plebs.
>>1437 Post quotes.
>>1437 Stoner is about a man accepting his fate and finding happiness in his work.
>>1366 “I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise.” “My first time I jacked off, I thought I'd invented it. I looked down at my sloppy handful of junk and thought, This is going to make me rich.” ― Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

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