The new book’s going to be a fiasco, I told W. on the phone. Ten days left and I’m still writing chunks of chapter three. Then you can whine about it for months on your blog, said W. and of course he was right.
W.’s book has been proofread three times – once by a colleague, once by his publisher and once by the publisher’s proofreader. How many time times has yours been proofread?, he asks, knowing the answer. I haven’t finished it yet, I told him.
Stayed up late last night writing. Nothing is possible today, so I tidied the office, readied the paperwork for the Internal Audit and went on an eating tour of the city. I drift towards morbid obesity, which is okay because Guy Debord did too, and I’m reading him in between writing bad prose.
W. and I have had a new idea: philosophy dogma, similar to the Danish film movement Dogme or OULIPO. There are a number of rules which we are still elaborating. I’ll post them here eventually.
W. is a feeder. I write to tell him what I’ve eaten; he writes back for more details. When we met the other day, we had conversations like those of people cleverer than us.
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