I’ve been getting a lot of guff from the youth recently. It’s been a regular guffathon really. Just guff guff guff.
Oh, youth. “Inscrutable youth,” as Elif says, “with your enormous sweatshirts and tiny telephones…” And your three published lines of poetry, your day jobs, your bright fresh faces, your future masterpieces—how haughty you are! How condescending.
Well let me tell you something, youth. You should read the speech Morris Binkel makes at the bottom of p. 73 of my book. Attend to it! This doesn’t mean that I turned into Morris Binkel or that you’ll turn into me. I learned from his mistakes; you can learn from mine. (Yeah, yeah, I know.) But the premise of your rebukes, the presupposition, here I’ll spell it out for you—that you will not waste your twenties—well, well … I thought so too.