>Ah, Marty, I say to my dear, beloved, fat wife, sharpening my rhetorical claws with the long emery board of a metaphor, you do not realize that I fuck concepts; I fart metaphors; I assassinate similes, mademoiselle, make them fart with pain, simulated lust and paroxysms of false desire; I punctuate periods with my turgid and blubbery asshole, Marty, whereas you, Marty, sit there like a tub of melting lard simmering steamily in the hot spring air.
Truly a masterpiece of prose!
So much modern lit is narcissism under the guise of bestowing a gift on the world.
DFW was truly abhorrent in this regard.
pretty funny tbqh
honestly, I don't get it.
>>8888154
I read this book and I'm pretty sure this is from the book