Writing for the internet is useless pastime.
There are so many things out there.
I don't have time to read it all.
I only skim canonized authors published by prestigious presses.
What does the writer hope to achieve?
The Internet could care less.
In this world, you can't tell what's good or bad.
Like the next Bukowski's Word Doc that lost all of its formatting.
Or the next Vonnegut's blog post with five hundred negative comments.
And the next Hunter S. Thompson's SMS narrative with three unique hits.
Meaning is not caring.
Literary genius is what your professor tells you to read.