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On a beach in Bethany

Tuesday 8/1/23

C: None of this shit is for readers. Readers no longer exist. It's all for the talentless, broken freaks of the writing world subculture, and that means it's all about other shit, like it's talentless broken freak high school. You have more writers than readers, and hardly any of these writers even write, and all of them suck at it.

J: I was in a book store last night. It's all picture books or "beach reads."

J: Sad to be honest.

J: All simple shit.

J: Simple plots.

C: People blame themselves, like you see with some of those responses to Tinkers, which is just fucking dreck. Con man dreck. They learn something won this award or whatever, they check it out, they don't get it, they think the fault is with them--and people are so insecure, especially with "intellectual" things--and then they read less, and then, not long after, they never read again. Why would they? They don't like what they read and what's more, the exercise makes them feel bad about themselves. And there are a billion other things to give their time to. So why bother with this shit and why feel this way if you don't have to?

C: Rarely do they question the system.

J: I've been saying this

C: If I take an average person to the museum and I say nothing

C: They won't get the "modern" paintings

C: They'll blame their lack of education

C: Not having a degree in art history

C: Everyone thinks there are these shadow overlords

C: Do you follow me?

C: This race of "those in the know."

C: But that race does not exist

C: Did you see Harding's answer to what his new book was all about?

C: He couldn't even answer and said some pretentious bullshit about how his art is "interrogative." I mean, fuck the fuck off you bullshitting empty fucking tool.

C: I could tell you what everything I write is about. I couldn't cover everything in a statement, because they are about so many things at once. But I could pitch every one of them. And compel straight from the pitch. What's it about? Sure, I can fucking tell you what it's about.

J: I saw what he said

C: What a fuckbag answer

C: Scam artist

J: He is a fuckbag.

C: He's working with air

C: Nothing

C: Ten years, three books

C: Nothing else

C: And it's really like three books in twenty years

C: Here, check out his latest

C: So, for his second and third books, he used the characters from his first

C: Which is gibberish

C: Have a Pulitzer!

J: I'm reading Buried again here on vacation

J: A random woman came up and asked what I was reading. She saw the cover and she is from Boston. She's ordering the book along with the others. I had a pleasant conversation with her about you.

C: It's hard not to give up.

J: I know but this is going to work

C: You like end of the world stuff. That's what my career, my life is. Everyone's dead and zombies have risen and there is no tomorrow

J: Got up at 530 today and took Mallory for a walk on the beach

C: I got up at 3 and went to work

J: I told Mallory I'm sure you had been up for hours working or running stairs

C: Yes, well, it takes a lot of wood.

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