What’s the point of being a writer or an artist anyway? Herman Melville wrote fucking “Moby Dick,” he was so poor and forgotten by the time he died that in his obituary they called him Henry Melville. You know, like, why bother? They’re just going to forget our fucking names anyway.
Your Herman Melville story, that, that’s bullshit.
It’s true, they called him Henry.
No, I mean, he wrote a seven-hundred page allegorical novel about the whaling industry. I think he was a pretty passionate guy…I hope they call me Henry when I die, too.
One can only hope.