(cont)
The result of all of those books? What is really the result these "reading afficionados," these "literary lovers," these paper moth morons really want to pitch to you, with their Goodreads social media, with their commentary, be it their reviews on a site or their yapping in person (which is fucking annoying and nothing new)?
I'll tell you their telos: a vain, narcissistic, "I'M FUCKING INTERESTING, AND YOU BETTER AGREE!"
That's all reading any public book will ever get you. It was different when the minority of the population could read and write, and up until not too long ago in historical terms, that was the case: your average person didn't have a fucking clue how to read or write.
Philosophy? Well, let's just say one of the few worth reading – Nietzsche – went fucking nuts when he realized he wasted his life.
If you aren't a selfish fucking loser, if you really truly don't give a shit about what other people think about you, then you'll look at reading with only one possibility, and only one possibility: escaping into someone else's mind, into another world, because you fucking hate this one, for whatever reason, be it it's monotony, it's mediocrity, whatever.
You may say: "but sir, you write well, clearly a result of being a reading junkie!"
It's not a prize to write well. Just as it's not a prize to play piano well. Nobody will really give a fuck. Everyone looks at everything and sees it's a repeat in today's world. You've seen it all on the internet, or on youtube, it's all nothing new, someone's done it. Maybe that person playing piano amazingly was a lifetime first experience for you, a real rare sight, a hundred years ago when you went to some tavern in Paris and were emotionally flabbergasted, but today, there's an Asian 6 year old doing it on youtube, and anyone doing it in person is a second-rate hack in comparison.
Maybe Shakespeare was a trip in his day, in a world where everyone barely spoke, this person seemed like some genius. Today, everyone has such elevated language capacity, thanks to growing up with public education, a world of typing and talking and texting, that we've all seen great writing, we don't give a fuck anymore about some other dickwad's sentence structure, and if it's amusing for five seconds, we'll pick it apart, just like we pick apart that twat playing piano.
We don't even give a fuck anymore about that stupid slut with big tits and a nice ass, because she's not the chaste maiden of the past that "honourable men deserve", she's a stupid slut that a dozen or a hundred guys have cum on and in, and you run the other way knowing she's a cold frigid bitch incapable of love, which is why you're a virgin, not because you think you're ugly, but because you don't even want to make an effort for something that is about as special as Uncle Ben's fucking instant rice.