Death is a triviality in writing. Give me abandon, or sink me in oblivion. There is an infinite richness in context alone. There are half-truths in everything, but only a knowledge of contrasts will form a whole truth. The continuity of truth arises only from the ongoing intersections of arbitrary parallels and contextual links.
Mainstream is pop and pulp is mainstream.
Everything is already equally B-grade. The cultural condition today is that our critic s evaluations are so reactively out of date and detached from the works they are supposed to criticise and categorise, that everything remotely close to criticism, with even the slightest scent of evaluation, is always already an inexact falsitude. To view it from a different perspective, the standard of high-end quality is defined by the lower orders. The intelligentsia needs the peasants to justify their intelligence. And the peasants are artists too.