Today, Kyle Jorgensen from Brooklyn, NY woke up and realized, “My writing is shit.” Kyle sat in his studio apartment, sipping his artisanal black coffee, glanced at his manuscripts from the last 10 years and remarked, “This is all garbage. Total hokum. No matter what I do, it’s worthless. And the biggest piece of crap I ever wrote was the one that went in “The New Yorker.” When I gained some success as a writer, I had to question everything. If sheeple relate to what I write, then clearly what I write is derivative fucking bullshit. I want to write pieces that are rejected by everyone. The more rejections I get, the better.”
I asked Kyle who he desired for his target audience. He ran his hand through his food truck encrusted beard, dislodging several pieces of kimchi and became increasingly upset. He picked up his latest book, “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to All Things Hipster…Ironic…” and threw it out of the window of his 18th story apartment. He stood quietly staring out of the window in silence for several minutes.
He then looked at me and said in an eerily calm voice,”Who is my “demographic?” Do you know how stupid you sound right now? No one. But if I have to answer your bourgeois question, at gunpoint…OK, fine…you know who my target audience is? 17th century villagers in Brussels, the recently dead, sentient coffee table books, garden gnomes, feckless train hobos from 1920…black matter…people who never learned to read…that is my target audience. Are you happy?”
He turned and screamed out of the opened window, throwing out more of his books, “I don’t think anyone truly gets my genius! Even I don’t get my genius! I am shit! I am a shit-genius! You can keep my book if it hits you! Otherwise I’ll need them back! Becuase I’m never writing again! I am garbage!”
Although Kyle has had some commercial success, he refused to accept any of the checks from his publisher, claiming that the checks are “financial proof of his garden-variety gobsmacked mediocrity” and spends his days walking dogs to make rent. While he is grateful to make some money, he does have a pointed complaint, “I love animals, especially dogs, but when I look down at them all I see is middle America in their vacant eyes, just consuming and sleeping and shitting…they will never, ever understand my genius either. My life is garbage, punctuated by picking up dog shit. But at least a dog will never write ‘lol, that was cute’ in the comments section and cause you to consider blowing your brains out.”