If you have never heard of Tao Lin, it’s really quite OK. I’m actually still sort of wondering why I know his name.
I first heard it two summers ago, while working as an intern at The New York Observer, a publication known for reporting on insider media-literary gossip. (I didn’t know this until beginning work there and dozens of my pitches on plebeian topics were rejected—kindly, of course, but rejected nonetheless.)
A writer on staff published a story called “Tao Lin Will Have the Scallops,” a profile of Lin written in the style of Lin. One notable line read:
