July 12th & 19th, 2021 - Unread Messages

Dear TNY,

Another year, another fiction issue.  I started with “Unread Messages”. 

And I stopped about 800 words in.  Because who fucking cares about this bullshit?  A boring person.  A boring job.  A boring relationship.  Boring fucking everything.  So I tried to skim it because of said boringness.  I couldn’t even do that.  Because I’d rather fuck a bucket of broken glass. 

Speaking of who fucking cares about this bullshit, I’m across the water over here in NJ.  And I have spent the last week in New England.  And it’s a bunch of uppity whites who have all the entitlement possible with none of the reason to have it.  It’s a lot like this story.  People who know the real world, the grit and grime and beauty and sadness and real fucking fabric, those people are the people to care about.  This part of the world seems devoid of that.  It’s a great big echo chamber of nonsensically stupid, self-centered living.  Preening.  Circle-jerking.  I imagine this story 1) is very similar to something that happened to the author, whoever he or she is (so is only important to them), and 2) is part of a collection to be released at a later date (or is a garbage short that was turned down but is only now being printed because another lackluster book is on its way out by said author). 

So, where’s that bucket of glass?  I’ll find it here somewhere.

Nick