He edited.
It's there, in blue.
But these are the changes from spell check, that caught spaces, lack of an adverb, or a misspelling.
I did an experiment on a document and had a similar spider web of activity.
The idea of merging himself in the book, nada.
It was such a great idea, that I decided to make him a co-writer.
It's the least I can do.
His suggestions have been invaluable.
For some reason, he didn't want to spell check the other 30 000 words I sent him.
'Be a good boy and edit it,' I wrote.
He ignored me.
The fucking dog.
The Peter Pan of the Far East, sniffing around Boys Town.
He had no time for editing.
'Too fucking busy fucking go-go boys,' said Max, who asked me if I'd like him to finish Gartland off.
Don't think we need to, I said, according to his posts in Dead Soi Poets, he's melting down.
