#narratore
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primepaginequotidiani · 11 days ago
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PRIMA PAGINA Il Quotidiano Del Sud di Oggi domenica, 03 novembre 2024
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dbergantin · 5 months ago
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Due aldilà
I Corrono attorno a una colonna portante, svolazzano sugli scavi oppure si divertono ad appoggiare le dita, per esempio, sulla punta dei picconi, poiché il contatto con la materialità del reale abitato dai vivi provoca loro una sorta di piacevole solletico: bisogna far passare il tempo. Tutto rimane com’è disposto dai manovali, soltanto qualche volta si spezza un mattone o si crepa una piastrella, per gioco.
Invisibili ai più e mai molti insieme, i Sospesi abitano i cantieri; una volta terminata la costruzione, finisce un mondo. È a questo punto che, rattristati, partono alla ricerca di nuovi siti, spesso traendo indizi dai discorsi tra muratori. Se no, vagano, cercando di udire il richiamo di altri Sospesi. Anche una ristrutturazione può andare bene. Il caso ottimale è quello in cui, per varie ragioni, l’edificio rimane incompiuto e abbandonato per un tempo indefinito: allora meglio rimanere lì, a corrispondersi.
II Lui, immobile, seduto al suolo con le gambe incrociate e all’apice della contemplazione, entrava nel Grande Disegno per un paio di minuti, assottigliandosi e diventando un se stesso raffigurato secondo un sobrio tratteggio con la matita di grafite. Giusto i suoi discepoli sapevano che sarebbe tornato alla forma ordinaria lì dove si era convertito, sempre nei luoghi più defilati, lontano dalla curiosità comune. Sosteneva che «Tutto è Grande Disegno: una pianta di tarassaco, un formicaio in attività o una conchiglia adagiata sulla sabbia…» e ai suoi seguaci pareva di sentire il lapis che, a velocità incredibile, tracciava ogni loro movimento e cancellava quello subito precedente sopra un foglio infinito di carta bianchissima.
Se avesse avuto un’idea dell’aspetto del Disegnatore, non l’ha mai voluto dire.
(2024) © Devis Bergantin
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dimensionesogno · 2 years ago
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COME SI SPIEGANO LE ALI
COME SI SPIEGANO LE ALI
E arrivi tu, crogiolo di urla in versi. Parole di ovatta attutiscono la caduta nella fossa del leone. Vorrei risalire, ma ognuno ha i suoi demoni, laggiù, sul fondo del buio irrinunciabile. Leggo. Coraggioso capitolo folle, spire di serpente, abbraccio finale. Scrivi come si respira, dentro e fuori, sangue rosso, sangue blu. Vene, arterie, vie di percorrenza di vite ordinarie, straordinario…
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jacksprostate · 10 months ago
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Before Project Mayhem, before fight club, before Marla, before Tyler — there is still one sad sack of shit.
.
.
The hard part about work trips isn't making the plane or seeing another family of five burnt into their leather seats. It's missing support groups.
See, if you're lucky, the company will send you out to a major city. Cities are great. A little advanced work to find a slightly below average church or library, you're set each night you're there.
It's a bit of novelty, getting to be a new face all at once. People assume you've just been diagnosed. It's never the failed treatments, the degradation of their life and everyone in it, the continuous experience of knowingly dying — none of those things are the worst thing that happens to you.
It's finding out they will.
So people cry. They crowd around, I sob like I've been told I've got stage four colon cancer and three weeks to live. We all cry. I sleep soundly on the plane back or in the nice, four star hotel my company provides me.
Flying out to a small town, though. I'll be awake enough to be hallucinating by the time I get back for Remaining Men Together. The only mercy is that the next time I show for all the groups I missed, I can see who thought I died. I get to be resurrected.
The other part about small towns, you have to take a second, shitter plane to a local airfield, or you have to take a rental car. One of the most popular rental cars available right now, it'll light itself on fire if you use the cruise control at the wrong time. I know this because I sat next to another guy with my job, who worked for a different company, and he said I'll show you mine if you show me yours. So I told him about the faulty airbags, and he told me about the overheating switch.
I prefer to avoid driving.
All the rental place at the airport has left for me, it's one of those flaming cars. I use cruise control. If I don't, one of my narcoleptic spells will send me into the Jersey barrier.
When you drive into these small towns, you have to try to pay attention, or you'll end up a county over talking about the wrong wreck. They're otherwise interchangeable, but the miles on your rental car won't line up and those are the type of records that might get pulled out when the company is finally sued for the big one ten years down the line.
As a result, I see the same decor on the way in every time. Meth lab. Abandoned homes. Garbage fire. Classic Americana. There is no four star hotel here; I sleep the same.
The only reason I've been brought out here is because the poor shithead who drove his truck into the ditch drunk was driving my company's flagship vehicle. It loses power steering if the car jostles the right way going above 55 miles per hour. I've been told to keep track of potential incidents and make sure the company can firmly claim it's not at fault.
We've had this problem for decades, and we will for many more. Sometimes, everything is falling apart.
The job is simple, and I only get tempted by the town's blatant opioid addiction for a day and night. Painkillers would probably make me sleep. The thing about being a recall campaign organizer, though, is like recognizes like. It's not only other Compliance and Liability guys who tell you company secrets while sharing the aisle in business class.
When I'm finally back in my own town, after my own support groups, after crying my eyes out into Bob's meaty middle — I pick up my mail. There's the newest IKEA magazine. Half of it looks like shit. The type of thing you'd only see in some curated art deco, modernist, post-modern traditionalist bohemian minimalist apartment.
I have to have it.
I go to sleep, hard, like God himself tucked me in. I sleep with my wallet net four hundred heavier, because even an IKEA spree tends not to outweigh a work trip. I sleep, with my called in IKEA goods only two short weeks away, my job well done, and I know, my life is complete.
#fight club#my writing#KEY INFO: this is Before Tyler#bit experimental as a result. how to peel away some of the narratorisms but have him still be the narrator? how to make him complacent#like a wisconsin dairy cow but still have undertones of extreme conscious and subconscious distress?#all car faults mentioned are real#ford had an overheating cruise control switch#and some other overheating fire switches#and jeep. i know because i knew a guy with a jeep — they randomly lose pwoer steering sometimes#horrific and scary and potentially deadly in any car — but jeeps have this known and bizzarely widely accepted flaw called the death wobble#which refers to the oscillations that rapidly feed on each other if the car is slightly out of tune#and can result in tearing the steering wheel from your hands#until you slow down#for some reason that's just accepted.#theres a lot of jeep propaganda#anyway you combine those two#you get the picture#i dont doubt theres been incidents even if there hasnt been major recalls lol#i hope this one comes across well... it's always strange to explore an almost hypothetical version of a character. the narrator where Tyler#is just a growing little menace in his head....#I think what made this one fun for me though is the narrator would still be pretty openly bleak I think but the SUBCONSCIOUS stuff.#especially all the stuff I implied at the end. very fun to write#and it was also just fun to lay down the like.... seeds. of things#this is before Tyler in the sense that it's before he was well cooked. Before they met. Etc. Pretty early into the support groups. But yk#he is sleeping.
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lyssq · 6 months ago
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The Ruin or Kings is truly the pinnacle of unreliable narrators. Kihrin and Talon are telling the story and you cannot trust either of them to tell the proper truth – meanwhile Thurvishar is writing this down and he’s pointing out the mistakes in the above two’s narrative, however we find out later that he himself added stuff that is straight up Not True
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hercorrupterofwords · 1 year ago
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It's him
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skiptoyuri · 1 month ago
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people talking about there not being enough romance is like. it IS there but its harder to identify upon first reading on account of sophie being stubborn and in denial but also kinda dense as hell 😭 also ill be so real howl alleviating sophie's rheumatism is unironically the most romantic thing ive ever read in my life like i dont think yall get it
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delawaredetroit · 1 year ago
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While Izuku didn’t “save” Iida here, this is the manga’s first example of Izuku inspiring a peer to be the best version of themselves. Izuku clearly didn’t want to be class president. He voted for himself because he believed that was expected of him (and he certainly didn’t look happy that he won). But Izuku’s selflessness during the entrance exam is what inspired the selflessness in Iida that he needed to properly become their class president.
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lanotteviene · 2 months ago
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tra l'altro poteva essere una riflessione interessante sulla terapia, l'assenza della stessa o la sua relativa impotenza, per di più in una provincia dove non è stata ancora sdoganata del tutto; cosa o come può aiutare la figlia, chiaramente stremata da stress post traumatico, in un ambiente che le è sia familiare che grottescamente castrante, specialmente per una donna. e invece il focus è sulla madre amorevole e stranita, che Non Sa Come Gestirla e si vergogna del suo dolore che non comprende. nell'anno del signore duemilaventiquattro anche in una cittadina sperduta dell'Abruzzo un'ideuzza su un colloquio con uno psicologo la si avrebbe, dopo un anno di miserie, però no, è meglio dedicare un libro alle madri preoccupate ma incapaci e alle figlie che soffrono ma non nel modo giusto (coerente e addolorato, non apatico, tendente a scatti di rabbia, a quell'altalena emotiva che la depressione spesso provoca)
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deathshallbenomore · 1 year ago
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consigli a grande richiesta di nessuno: la ricreazione è finita letteralmente il romanzo sulla lotta armata degli anni ‘70 che non sapevo di voler leggere bello divertente ironico un po’ prevedibile ma riflessioni interessanti su classe rapporto con la politica confronto tra generazioni alienazione dell’avere trent’anni oggi soprattutto pazzesco il piano di lettura della contemporaneità dove un dottorando [che si sta occupando degli anni ‘70] ci narra delle avversità della vita accademica 12/10 ritratto più fedele mai visto, altro che dark academia*
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imagoodfuckindoggo · 6 months ago
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JAN TIME—
Did you know that the Timekeeper's true physical body is only comprehensible to itself? Any one else who looks upon the Timekeeper will always have a different depiction of the same person. As I have shown above- That is not its true self!
Oh, if I were to give an example... Let us say here:
Put two persons in the same room with the Timekeeper.
R and L, is what we will deem them as, so original I'm sure.
R sees the Timekeeper as an old brunette male, tall and perhaps wearing a coat as if he's a detective from the 90's.
Whilst L here sees a person with their blonde hair in a bun, modest clothing, medium height yet bearing a pocket watch on a chain.
The only similarities: Neither are able to see The Timekeeper's eyes, no matter if they have something covering it or not. Fun, isn't it?
Anyone can have their own depiction of the SoV's Timekeeper, even you! So if you wish to do a few things with my creation, feel free to change them into what you please.
I would like it if you portrayed me as who you see now. :]
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Thank you TK
Jan Out!
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dbergantin · 5 months ago
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Sguardi e piume
Mi osservo da tempo come se i miei occhi, staccandosi dalla testa e rigenerandosi subito dopo, si siano disseminati nel paesaggio: alcuni hanno nidificato tra i rami, altri dimorano sopra le tegole, altri ancora scrutano dai davanzali di abitazioni abbandonate… Ciò mi trasmette un senso straordinario di concretezza e sicurezza. Adesso mi guardo scendere le scale che conducono alla porta dell’androne; ecco, sono sulla strada malridotta di casa, poi mi noto mentre incontro me stesso bambino nei cortili dove sbucciai le ginocchia; infine vedo il mio piede sinistro schivare una bottiglia di vetro in frantumi sul bordo di una via di cui non conosco il nome: lo scorgo da dieci punti di osservazione. Secondo il Profeta oggi dovrei denudarmi a mezzogiorno, in un luogo gradito, basta garantirsi ampio spazio attorno e nessun intralcio umano o animale: ho scelto un campo di periferia, sufficientemente sorvegliato da una serie di sguardi piazzati su pochi alberi isolati e capaci di coprirmi le spalle. È l’ora: si manifestano le prime piume sulla pelle.
Sento robuste le zampe e potenti le ali. Spicco il volo: i miei guardiani sono abbagliati dal sole.
(6 maggio 2024) © Devis Bergantin
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kerosene-saint · 9 months ago
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constant urge to become a youtuber/streamer
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daisywords · 1 year ago
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nothing like going all caps in the notes doc <3
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lonesomedotmp3 · 2 years ago
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is daisy jones a tiktok book yeah is it not very good yes also but it's such a slay concept to adapt to the screen of course I'm tuning in. are you crazy.
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leparolecreanomondi · 3 days ago
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Il Narratore Inattendibile: una voce che mente per creare verità
Amiche e amici, come state? Io sbattuto come un polpo sugli scogli delle mareggiate quando c’è il global warming e l’innalzamento repentino delle maree. Mi hanno (di nuovo) proposto di fare un corso di scrittura creativa, e questa volta credo accetterò. Sono andato a riprendere gli hard disk con tutte le cartelle e cartellette e, se posso azzardare con un po’ di presunzione, a parte la ruggine…
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