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/lit/ - Literature

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10676541 No.10676541 [Reply] [Original]

I know I shouldn't be telling anyone this, since I know it's a huge betrayal of trust, but it's just too goddamn good of a story to not share, and since I'm three rums in, I thought Fuck It!

I knew the whole Elephant 6 circle before Jeff's fame put them on every shelf of every Amoeba-going hipster. I was always invited to their little "potlucks": these weird dinners they'd host, where they'd dress like freaks from the 60s, do live theatre, sing songs, and overall just be strange. I loved it. I stayed up late into the evening talking to Jeff that night. He had a thick stack of papers before him, looking at them tenderly, with a slight pang of some pain I still can't identify. I said "Wow, that all your lyrics?" "Hmm, yeah. Sorta? I don't know. I like to write a lot of stuff." "Like what? Novels?" "I guess," with a big smile across his face, "I don't know. I don't think I'm very good. Hard to organize things. My brain's all scattered." "What was the last thing you wrote?" "This fucking spazz on coke freaking out on stage with this other spazz. It's a world of spazzes. But the higher world is also full of spazzes. They just spazz in ways foreign to use folk."

This conversation would never arise in my memory again, until I was meme'd into reading The Lost Scrapbook recently... which indeed included a scene much like what Jeff described.
I don't know. His music deals with a lot of, arguably, environmental issues, and issues of loneliness.

>> No.10676552

>>10676541
How is Annie doing, by the way?

>> No.10676567

>>10676552
Shh

>> No.10676704

>>10676541
I believe it except

>> No.10676712

>>10676541
Big if true.

>> No.10677002

>>10676541
I choose to believe this.

>> No.10677239

Large in stature if authentic.

>> No.10678462

I know I shouldn't be telling anyone this, since I know it's a huge betrayal of trust, but it's just too goddamn good of a story to not share, and since I'm three rums in, I thought Fuck It!

I knew the whole Elephant 6 circle before Jeff's fame put them on every shelf of every Amoeba-going hipster. I was always invited to their little "potlucks": these weird dinners they'd host, where they'd dress like freaks from the 60s, do live theatre, sing songs, and overall just be strange. I loved it. I stayed up late into the evening talking to Jeff that night. He had a thick stack of papers before him, looking at them tenderly, with a slight pang of some pain I still can't identify. I said "Wow, that all your lyrics?" "Hmm, yeah. Sorta? I don't know. I like to write a lot of stuff." "Like what? Novels?" "I guess," with a big smile across his face, "I don't know. I don't think I'm very good. Hard to organize things. My brain's all scattered." "What was the last thing you wrote?" "This fucking spazz goes hiding in the attic with some other spazzes. It's an entire family of spazzes. But the outside world is also full of spazzes. They just spazz in goose-step."

This conversation would never arise in my memory again, until I was meme'd into reading Diary of a Young Girl recently... which indeed included a scene much like what Jeff described.
I don't know. His music deals with a lot of, arguably, dead kikes, and issues of being in love with children.

>> No.10680034
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10680034

>>10678462

>> No.10680721

I know I shouldn't be telling anyone this, since I know it's a huge betrayal of trust, but it's just too goddamn good of a story to not share, and since I'm three rums in, I thought Fuck It!

I knew the whole Elephant 6 circle before Jeff's fame put them on every shelf of every Amoeba-going hipster. I was always invited to their little "potlucks": these weird dinners they'd host, where they'd dress like freaks from the 60s, do live theatre, sing songs, and overall just be strange. I loved it. I stayed up late into the evening talking to Jeff that night. He had a thick stack of papers before him, looking at them tenderly, with a slight pang of some pain I still can't identify. I said "Wow, that all your lyrics?" "Hmm, yeah. Sorta? I don't know. I like to write a lot of stuff." "Like what? Novels?" "I guess," with a big smile across his face, "I don't know. I don't think I'm very good. Hard to organize things. My brain's all scattered." "What was the last thing you wrote?" "This fucking lobster, man, they get defeated and they stop trying to fight, because their brain isn't pumping out enough seritonin. But when you give them antidepressants, guess what? They get back up again."

This conversation would never arise in my memory again, until I was meme'd into reading 12 Rules for Life by Jordan B. Peterson recently... which indeed included a scene much like what Jeff described.
I don't know. His music deals with a lot of, arguably, psychological issues, and issues of responsibility.

>> No.10680778

totally over my head

>> No.10680782
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10680782

>>10678462
>This fucking spazz goes hiding in the attic with some other spazzes. It's an entire family of spazzes. But the outside world is also full of spazzes. They just spazz in goose-step."

good lord i imagined jeff actually saying this in his soft weird voice and i'm fucking crying

jesus fucking christ lmfao

>> No.10680822

This was fun!!!!!