Of Artistic Integrity
Artistic integrity is a crime against extraction. For what can a merchant do with a man who will not sell himself? Who will not place his soul before the altar of the indifferent, or worse… posers. Yes, those types who show up to readings with nothing of their own. Those who read what is popular, what is already celebrated, mainstream… dabblers, nothing serious floats in their heads. Who is Lao Tzu, Sun Tzu, Schopenhauer, Quigley, De Beauvoir, Caro, Hegel, Goethe, Chomsky? Dead and gone, old and forgotten. They know nothing of today, nothing of the modern idiotocracy, our plutocracy.
The indolent never read, and when they do, it does little good. For what they read is the problem, smut, romance, bromance? I needn’t say more.
Artistic integrity is economic waste, for he who chooses himself over the masses. Produces only for his own pleasure, his own spirit, his own way of life. Such meaning is meaningless to the hive, the production engine that forever seeks to use him, grind to nothing his essence, the truth of soul. How blasphemous it is that he should resist, exist, hold high his head when he is penniless. Such defiance, is he a Samurai? A monk? No, a fool, for he shall perish within our machine. Yes, we will crush him with printed iron bills, starve him out, streetify him, humiliate and assimilate. Squeeze as he bends upon his knees. Torture is our art, hatred is our currency, panic is our philosophy; pain, our manifesto.
Hello! We’re D.J. Hoskins
We are Davena and Jason Hoskins, co-authors of 40+ books and siblings who write under the pseudonym D.J. Hoskins. Three years apart and in our twenties, we have been fascinated by stories from a young age. Davena is a student attending Princeton University, and Jason attends Georgetown University.
