Between ‘post office’ and ‘on women.’
Hank quits his job.
He drinks and slips into madness.
He sets out to write ten pages a night,gets crazy fucked up,wakes up with 20-25 pages a night..
Then…He goes through the slog of editing..
When the next book starts..he’s going to a poetry reading.
He’s meeting Lydia and hanging around creatives..
To me, it seems like there’s a major chunk missing.
Where did he get money?
How was he able to keep his shitty apartment and how did he afford his slow suicide?
(inflation?)
Sure.. money used to be worth more…but people STILL had to work.
You can’t just float.
Listening to classical music and typing away..
I find this scenario to be odd.
Not throwing shade on the man’s genius,,just…
It seems far fetched.
Because I’m old enough to notice the system.
The rope around my neck.
The dick in my ass.
The boot on my face…
I’m aware of these things and so was he..
But he was able to quit his misery, to escape, and he was able to do what he felt like he was called to do..
—
What he was, but you are not,.. is real.
His was not a false bravery.
There was zero signaling in his work..
He wasn’t trying to make you think that he was someone he wasn’t..
Nah .
Just real.
Ugly and messy and shitty.
All your life, people tell you to look away from it.
They tell you to pretend that it is something to be avoided…
Not for him.
And that’s why he lives forever.
And that’s why you only exist within the news cycle.
Your power only comes from the algorithm… The fickle experience of briefly being “popular“..
Now…allow me to remind you of how temporary all this is…
(smile and wave 👋)
Yeah . I know how it goes.. 🫡
dusk 