September 10th, 2018 - Audition

Dear TNY,

So I am a day late to “Audition” and I can honestly say that whatever I did yesterday (which was filled with substantial happiness, BTW) was better than this shit.

Let’s talk about where the voice is coming from.  The narrator and author are not two distinct voices like they should be.  While this might seems like an ephemeral detail, it is not.  Because, subconsciously, humans connect to consistency.  When I’m sitting in the narrator’s seat and in scene and catching details from his present tense, that rings true in it of itself.  But when I’m flipped to the summary sections, especially the thick fucking waste of pages at the beginning of this heap, it’s the author who is telling us the past.  Why do the names of the subdivision matter, but the name of the mid-sized (overuse this much?) town does not matter yet its namelessness is called out specifically?  Why does the author insist on using the line about the internet (whatever that is) twice, when it fucking betrays the reader’s intelligence?  Why are we treated ignorant children with regard to this “period” of the setting when a good author would know that it’s the narrator’s experience of the setting that’s important, not the pedagogy behind the setting?  And that experience of the "period" would accept shit as truth, not seek to consistently remind us of what the fucking rage was.  My mom recently said to me that she thinks men would rather be respected than loved.  I’m still unpacking that statement for validity, for sure.  I can tell you that, as in her example, the moment you disrespect me as a reader I fall out of love with the story you are telling.  Would you like to know where that happened?  Halfway through the first sentence.  The moment you start naming an inconsequential subdivision you have lost me.  And then the author (or narrator as switching back and forth was frequent and bullshit) failed to fulfill on the promise of crack cocaine until halfway through the story.  Like, really? 

Let’s talk about that crack cocaine though, real quick.  This is another example your privileged, upper-class, white upbringing clouding your view of the world.  I bet when this story graced your hot little hands, your crotch engorged (or got wet; or both) at the idea of slumming in this fictional world.  And that’s exactly how this story reads.  It reads like you, TNY, don’t know the difference between actual slums and literary ones and you are passing artificial humanity to us as real product.  This is fucking disrespectful to me as the reader, and should be to all the other gritty readers out there who have lived in this world.  But, you don’t read these letters.  They are too hard to see from your ivory tower.  Instead, you are tuning into the world from so far away that it’s apparent it’s all beneath you.  Remember:  that’s exactly the rhetoric which you despise from our current political state, you hypocritical fuckstick.

Alas, none of this matters.  You will never care.

Also, EXCEPTIONAL gaff with Steve Bannon you fuckwads.  Again, it is very difficult to see the forest…when your head is up your ass.  But, keep thinking you’re killing it.  Because you are the only one that thinks so, you narcissistic pig.

Until the next disappointment,

Nick