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moldred's Journal

moldred the malcontent
1 May
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I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I no longer think about it, I am. Everything that was literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written, thank God. This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, defamation of character... No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art...

Tropic Of Cancer
Henry Miller