It's me again. I did flick through it ( I promised, didn't I?), undisturbed. To copy your style "On the worn-out carpet upstairs, I oscillated between consternation and bewilderment." It's not a book, is it? Where are the people anyway? It's clinical, D.O.A. If that's what it's like in your head, noone can blame you for wanting a holiday in the sun.
The way you sum up people who have obviously loved you, is just wrong. It just shows your inability to relate to another human being. "Nancy is a bit lonely, I think". Whoa, how perceptive, kind Genius. "Tina is never late". Well, what a wonderful woman, eh? "Jake likes a joke". Who knew?
The rest, what I saw anyway, is just boring name-dropping, stuffy self-importance and boring facts, facts, facts. Who cares what hotel you stayed at? We're all sorry that glass door hurt you, but we can't help thinking it was probably your fault. You probably just can't open a door, honey. Nevermind close one.
You never realized what you had been given. And looks like a lot of people gave you a lot. Some for free, even.
You just lounge in your own bed, and wait for the next poor sod to turn up, and you pick up olive people in airports, while "other people" are elsewhere raging at your stupidity. Damn, how insightful you are...No wonder your comeback was cocky.
The world has to be protected. You're right. From tedious books that show you nothing about life. You once asked if there was still time to exchange a record for a baby. Looks like you had plenty of opportunities to make one. You decided to save all your energy to write this. That's your legacy.
The soul has gone, the body is decaying, and I'm more convinced than ever that you are unable to love. Anyone. (Poor Kristeen had a lucky escape.You presumably fancied her because she was taken, anyway. -there's a classic for you.)
Oh and thanks for wiping trees out. Lucky that baby wasn't born, or s/he would have been killed in a climate change catastrophe caused by Daddy., you know. Life is oft full of lil ironies like dat.
One last thing, I'm not changing my mind about people because you mock their hairstyling habits. Is anyone? I don't know if Rome was built in a day, I just know that book is no Rome at all. Certainly no work of art. Or Classic. Even as a joke. Nothing made me laugh. The only good bits were written by others!
Still. Take care of yourself, and be gentle with the next unfortunate person who decides you just need to be loved. Or the next male prostitute...
I'm out the door, author. In the real world. With other people; and where, after a fling, you leave them. Pretending all the while they left you, because it makes people cry. And buy. Oh that glass door! Ain't the world cruel...
Yes. So go buy yourself a record.