He would name his protagonist "He."

He would refer to his protagonist as "he." Freud had "it." He had "he."

He, a so-called writer, had been influenced by modern art, from the urinal to the black painting. At some point Art got smart and decided to represent nothing but itself. Art began to represent representation. (He thought that sentence was good, if not true. He thought that good was more important than true.)

He would present the writer behind the scenes, the writer whose only character was himself. He would write a book where the narrator was the protagonist. Shit, that was his life.