A Supposedly Posthumous Fun ...... by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

First Death

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Writer’s Concluding Un-Scientific Postscript Being the astute reader I’m sure that you are, this astute writer is certain that you’ve long ago spotted what appears to be a contradiction right at the very foundation of this book.

Well, it’s physically at the top of the pages. But we’ve all nuanced Derrida and Foucalt’s brilliant teachings some time ago, and thank them accordingly. For the few un-initiated, suffice to say that when deconstructed, no one can surely determine up from down. While the writer wishes to commend your well-honed meticulousness, and is also thankful that you have chosen to view his humble (Please recall Derrida and Foucalt.) offering, he would also like to tell you that if you are of the very previously described mindset, at least in this humble case, you are just plain wrong. You assumed something, and we all know what happens when we assume. Don’t we? I’d rather not subject you to the tedious, intermittently funny, and intermittently explanatory footnotes. If they’d like, someone else is welcome to do that. I don’t care and here and there, more or less, have other things I’d rather do; currently stare at and attempt to extract the many artful visions posted on “Horror Sleaze Trash”

by Arthur Graham, inclusive of the seasonal merriment provided by his inclusion of his competition for top and biggest Utah

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slut, fictitiously known to the web as India LaPlace. One would always do well not be overly nosy.

Back to the banalities of this mundane half-a-book; the most clairvoyant amongst you might have suspected, perhaps in one of those please-let-me-out-of-here, po-mo daydreams, but may not have fully known that the first and last title of this book is

“A Supposedly Posthumous Fun Interview with DFW Which We’ll Probably Never Do Again; But You Never Know,” which is boldly displayed on the outside as well as inside cover, yet you incisively noted that the page headings say; “A Supposedly Fun DFW Interview.” How can the writer ever hope to adequately explain such ironic and inconsistent discrepancies? That is actually a tricky reverse tautology, sometimes referred to by the relentlessly educated, highly vocalized pundits of post-modern or post-industrial literature as “XXXX XXXXX XXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX, ad infinitum,” or its less meaningful equivalents. Cool shit, huh?

The inadequately brief, but personally true story insofar as my amnesia and confusion between my book and who I really am is that I think the writer made the intended cover before he decided to shorten the title and then changed his mind a second

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time; while retaining appropriate deference to the clear practicality of what is on top. (Please again recall Derrida and Foucalt sermons.) In other words which seem laboriously obvious to say, if he wrote the entire title out on top (Derrida-Foucalt un-necessarily inserted again.) the page would be shorter, the printing cost would be higher, and nobody ever looks at the goddam page headers anyway, unless the page number is placed up there, and they are prone to use that number in an attempt to calculate the degree of misery left for them. Suffice to say that any such calculation attempt is doomed to be imprecise, but reasonably close for those comfortable with the rudimentary and standardized rejections associated with traditional logic and set theory.

You might ask why the writer didn’t avoid the confusion and leave the header out entirely. In that case the writer considers you a smart ass destined for hell, as he can only retort; “Okay, I made a fucking mistake and retain some silly notion of tradition. Go ahead and crucify me for it. Jeez.”

Having said all of that, if you have concluded that there is more here than meets the eye, you are indeed a very sick person, and this book was written with you specifically in mind.

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The writer is now comfortably advancing to his retreat; and would like to remain there as long as possible. Thank you for your anticipated, kind consideration.