I wrote a book about how I felt about what happened
to Evil Genius. I called it Open Book. It had a Jack Neff drawing
Two guys in a boat, fishing. A bridgetender. Two walkers.
It reminded me of van Gogh’s Bridge at Arles.
I felt like I had betrayed Brenda by writing something
noncommercial. I had promised. Then, I published Open Book,
throwing good money after bad. Bad money after good?
It wasn’t noncommercial it was anti-commercial.
Just as Jack Neff’s paintings were.
Purple, twitching, hideous.