I’m going to write the worst book ever written. A fucked up book about being fucked up. An idiotic book about idiocy. It’s going to be so bad that it’s going to spoil literature – all of literature.
That bad.
What are you going to call it?
Why I Write Such Bad Books.
Why should anyone read it?
They won’t. No one will read it. No one will care. No one will notice. Because no one’s looking to literature for anything.
Literature’s a stupid word, anyway.
So because you’re no good at literature, you have to spoil all of literature.
Exactly.
But no one will actually notice?
No.
And who’s going to publish your anti-literary book.
No one.
You’re an idiot.
An iconoclast with no icons. You’re too late to smash anything up.
You haven’t reconciled yourself to not being a genius, so you have to be an anti-genius.
Work in Progress 