Your writing is not profound(and why it shouldn’t be.)

In response to

In this reply, on account of showing myself more capable of point by point dealing with any argument you muster, now instead I will turn sharply to his deeper held conceptions.

We shall do this in three stages:

1. The opposition of his conception of writing in general

2. The opposition of his conception of his own writing

3. The opposition of his conception of myself

From most abstract to particular; he claims that the workman produced, technically proficient work, despite having these qualities, still lacks an elan vital, and that this elan vital coincides with vague conceptions of “interest” “the profound” or to summarize, a vulgar bukowskification of the William Carlos Williams formula established in Paterson; to paraphrase and summarize; “the particular boring profane object or experience when seen as sublimely profound makes the whole vast universal spirit as graspable and knowable as the must common place items.” When he speaks of this elan vital and profound or something, he is really saying, he doesn’t feel a link to an extremely particular live experience by which he can expand his mind to an infinity.

I am not giving you a stickman, I am giving the reader the unconscious interior of the bulk of modern-influenced and experience fixated writers, they do not actually know that the lifeblood and soul of their writing is their self obsession and the wish to expand their ego into the place of a universal godhead, the pseudo confessionist does not realize they want to make their daily lives a gospel, and their mundane routine the acts of Christ deserving of endless commentaries.

The belief that your writing needs to be profound, to be a life or world changer, is both a delusion and a-historical. Because what does the profound actually entail? That you are some educator for another? That you have extracted some mysterious fluid from the facts of life and now, you, are capable of telling it how it is? You, writer-reader, are not a philosopher, your goal is not to expand the conscious, you are a maker of fictions and pleasures of sound and sense. And if you are a philosopher, do you honestly believe your years of hard study of numerous thinkers throughout history is justified by your fictional work or by any rhetorical game you can devise? If so, then answer me this, do you consider the reader who reads all of your fictional works and conceits to be your equal in philosophical knowledge? No? Why not? Because you couldn’t actually give the depth of your knowledge. If you did actually write a systematic philosophy or at least a proper book of aphorisms, or even a platonic style dialogue like the many men before you, surely you can say “yes the man who has studied all of my works equals my philosophic knowledge”

But dear writer-reader, remember the common man comes to you for the passing of an hour, the excitement of his mind in trivial stories and the delight of a well-spoken friend. Do you seek to be more than the entertainment of another, do you seek to be more than the evening guest of the stranger? Why? Do you honestly approach your favorite writers that you read often any different?

And on this point of you, reader, can you say in the sum of your consumption of writing, film, tv, manga, YouTube videos, video games or the like, that the bulk of your pleasure comes from

These vague profound-profane admixture formulae, that is, your preference for entertainment is the tangy sweat of the boring nuances of peoples real lived experience?

If you answer yes, where are you people? Because all I see when I look around are endless discussions of people marathoning Baxter, gene Wolfe, Tolkien, Rowling, Akira toriyama, George RR Martin, call them slop all you want, you probably read and enjoy these types far more than the proclaimed “literary” works so idolized.

Why? You enjoy one and not the other. Pleasure and pleasure in a good made craft are the actual determinants on whether you’ll spend your hour with the stranger-guest of an author, not wisdom. I admit you may claim an author for posture, but you most likely shall not suffer what you consider doldrum just because you have an idea that strangers think it’s smart. Doesn’t material if it’s Dostoevsky or Kyōka Izumi, if you’re bored you’re most likely not gonna read the body of any of these men, if you’re entertained, you probably will.

I say, the writer-reader should write according to what he likes to read the most, or at least consciously formulate why he wants to write in the first place. For me, I like to write things I enjoy for my own pleasure and the hope it exposes me to new writing, I also am a lover of the critical experience, whether it’s giving criticism or receiving it. If one doesn’t know why they write, how can they know if they achieve success in writing?

Perhaps in your own self analysis, you come to the conclusion that the profound experience of particular life is really your bedrock, but if that’s the case, ask the hard question; are you really best served by writing, or was writing just the easy thing? Would you not be better serving your own interest by being a journalist, or a full change and becoming a documentarian? Even a YouTube Vlog overwhelms us with a stark hard reality far greater than the most worshipped realist authors in terms of immediacy.

Now to our second stage;

Let us pick a typical specimen: we shall ignore his tactic of attention seeking by neither going for his newest piece nor the piece he claims is the most well-received, we shall instead investigate “man-cooking” which is the actual most by the numbers successful story on substack of his of any recent memory (therefore, will have the highest likelihood of the readers actually having familiarity with it.)

And with it we shall dispel (for brevities sake) 3 delusions of the author;

1. The point being the real

2. That the author has a grasp of an elan vital

3. That the author even wants to write.

The first point is dissolved when we analyze the stories basic premise, an underpaid cook (yes he reused the experience, surely that won’t get tedious!) finds himself trapped in a twilight zone set-piece, wherein he cannot leave the room, and when he does, what is there routinely resets. Immediately we find the little sinew of a female relationship and individual persona he gives the main character is nothing more than an emotional hook into the real star of the show; the twilight zone set piece of a kitchen, the simple metaphor of the dullness of daily repetition as an excuse, and the actual personal delight he takes in being vindictive and plainly mean towards his doll-character, giving him false hope, placing some pseudo transcendental momentary resolutions for him, and in all and throughout, giving him unnecessary harm for the sole delight of enjoying the strange harm inflicted from the estranged perspective of reality. That’s right! The actual appeal to his sadism is that it is a cold, mentally isolated, detached from reality experiment.

And As for an elan vital? He has no conception of Bergson in any depth with it, if he did he’d relate it to reflex, actual muscularity, and having to do with the evolving throes and inertia of the times, again where can one find any of this in this imitation twilight-zone? A cursory study shows only the moth-eaten pages of depressed slavic writers and the screenplays of very American writers from the 2000s, i challenge the reader, read this or his other works and feel how hamfisted the introduction of ai or other technologies feels, or better yet, if you can find in man-cooking anything timely, fresh and new.

On the final note, let’s turn to the text itself to see if it wants to be read or watched. Forgive us dear reader for having to expose you to an excerpt.

“> With his mind clear, he lifts up the dipper. Burn tastes the deep-fried cheese with onion. A combination he's never had before.

BURN (cont'd): Deep fried cheese and onion. That's a new one... you know, that's not bad. Damn that's tasty.

Pause.

BURN (cont'd): What if I...

Burn rushes to take out a whole stack of patties and begins dividing them, then dicing them, with a knife.”

This is not simply imagistic, this is beyond the dialogue fixation of his screenplay ideal, this is no different from the directions and style typical in any given film. I bring you a mental section to show you even in his most cerebral, you’re not going to get much more depth than a “damn” or what amounts to a little back and forth. Look to any of his listed favorites and give a cursory examination of their prose style, can you say this is their writing style? No, then what does this resemble? You’ll find a thousand times the similarity in the writing of burnt starring Bradley cooper over any similarities in the lines of Henry miller.

With that out of the way, let’s turn to the little nuances; that is, his opinion on my work.

For the third stage let me immediately dispel the thoughts on biography and approach; it is claimed I inject jewels and jewelry into my writing because I am a jeweler, no it is the opposite in fact, my study of religion, and philosophy led to my deep contemplation of gemstones (such as Robert Chester’s occult anthology lover’s martyrs where he, Shakespeare, Ben Jonson and others go at length on the mystical symbol of the phoenix while describing a variety of plant and gemstone lore, likewise the text “A Lapidary of Sacred Stones: by Claude Lecouteux” or even Agrippa especially in the behennian description. There is no shortage of literature.) and then I picked up writing poetry, AND THEN, after this, I became a jeweler, you can find the same fixation upon jewels in the mahakavya poetry, decadent poetry and Elizabethan poetry which influences my writing or upon my pre-jeweler poetry all the same. Besides, my work is significantly high-end, you won’t find bust-down Rolexes and royal oak aps in my verses, nor shall you find Byzantine chains or the like. You will find only images selected for beauty.

Further, he claims my opposition to seeking wide-spread readership is born out of being an author whose failed to grab attention himself, this is a view born of only seeing others as your own mirror, if I have began writing only after a long process of philosophical and theological inquiry and choose as my subjects by and large very esoteric forms, modes, treatments and topics; why would I possibly expect any wide readership? No, it is as I say in the first post I made upon this platform, I am here to analyze, critique, partake of the literary sphere and gain some part of the writer-community here. I have had some small successes in this endeavor by reading the works of and interacting with these gentlemen:

Demodocus

Eros

Neo-Passéism

Stefan Baciu

Bence Ádók

And in some level

J.Z Schafer

And, surprisingly, the previously mentioned (in prior essays)

Cairo Smith

! Whose Palisade (a kind of corporate modernity-occultism affair with splashes of Edmund jabes style pathos for the people-of-antiquity-among-the-modern-ruins) I read and he with considerable dignity took my unapologetic critiques and actually considered them.

Why do I summon this cloud of people and mention all of this? Because it means one thing; I am successful by my metric of success. Very successful. And I hope to be further successful even by the writing of this piece, I hope to encounter more writers who both despise what I write and write similarity, whose works are a pleasure or pain, to who critiquing is mutually beneficial.

And as for self-pleasure, joke as you want about the dadrock! I enjoy dadrock, new-wave, disco, hiphop, soul, the whole gamut which I employ in that AI-album, and I semi regularly blast the album for myself. I can confidently say whether it’s song or written verse or prose, I regularly return to my writings and enjoy just consuming them, if that’s plumbing, then I rather my writing have good plumbing, rather than your alternative;

Being full of shit!

What else should I call fixation on sentiment, wound, the mundanities of low wage labor idolized and all of this sort? We know the simple truth, what’s interesting is what’s entertaining and what’s interesting has something of the uncommon within it, whether it’s the story, the people in the story, how they speak or how you write it, your ideal is that be interesting, it be interesting by being different and weird, and that is to say, for it to partake in the literary Unreal. If it’s not Unreal quality, it’s full of shit!

Now, to speak directly, mister Daniel Gavilovski, knowing you are incapable of reading at-length and couldn’t handle an actual point by point substantial discussion, I have significantly reduced this essay to just the major concepts and points, and having seen your essay has 2243 words; i would hope your zeal for writing equals your zeal for reading so you can read and interact fully with this essay composed with modern stylings and, yes, equaling exact