You may think I'm crazy, but the founder of the Smithsonian Institute told me last night that I should quit writing. He said he'd "go over" what I had, help knock it into shape..."but it's not really going anywhere" Sure I said, "it's all acorns and beechnuts to me"
Against good sense and nature he set to work. I sat on the porch biting my nails. His criticisms would amount to nothing I was sure, no more than quibbles. It would all rest on his understanding
of the fragment. Maybe I should except the fact he will educate and enlighten me about myself, then I will take what he's given me and use it against him. I will be like the father who walks in the bride's path stepping softly on the train. I will be the reckoner who settles the accounts, who strips
away the military pose, who is neither left or right. I will whiten the pages of literature with my theft, my violent de-signs.
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okay, so I didnt know what the smithsonian institute was until just now. sure, i've heard it spoken, but y'know, never knew beyond that.
so, my question is, are you being sardonic when you say that the founder of the smithsonian institute told you to stop writing, as in, its make-believe, that didnt really happen, he was in your head?
forgive me if that is supposed to be obvious.
and uh, just at the chance that it is true...fuck him, keep writing...that is, if you want to. i bite my nails too...yummy.
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