For the sanity of his loving friends, who really just want the best for him- just let him be the American Poet Unlaureate...maybe he will shut up about how Harold Bloom (his hero)rejected his work...because since he has become like Lord Byron envisioned Keats:
"John Keats, who was killed off by one critique,
Just as he really promised something great,
If not intelligible, - "
....but after four books (to hear her sing, to mother, ceic: transcending towards a pseudo vagina, premature emasculation)what Donald refers to as Pemos...he know lays on his couch surrounded by pizza boxes, a dictionary, and many unwritten blank pages. It is a sad, disheartening sight!
So maybe this might save this fragile soulless being!