August 22nd, 2022 - Skyscrapers
Dear TNY,
Another Monday arrives and the engine hunt continues to remain unresolved, and you give me “Skyscrapers”.
And it’s…whatever.
I think I see what the author is trying to do, but I don’t think that manifests in this story in a way that creates that “warm earthquake” of an ending. Like, this story drips with youth & that potential of young love smashed right up against the elation/fear of first freedom; while these are usually reliable tools to generate hazy-framed, sepia-toned feelings in the reader, they felt a little dead in this story. And there’s also a young writer who loves books. Yuck. I mean, find a new fucking trope, bitches (but I will say it wasn’t as annoying of you to reuse this mold in this story because of the youth aspect; if only the youth aspect didn’t ring so flatly…). And all of this is told through the gimmick of erasing a person, which comes off as clever, but not the good kind of clever. Like, more earnest. Like…look how clever this is.
And who were you trying to erase? Me, weirdly.
On that note, I don’t mind the second person aspect of this because it really isn’t second. I think it’s first. And by making it first, I don’t feel so pushed around by the demands that the “you” puts on me. Also, “you” isn’t in the story very much. Mainly for the saccharin ending with the “skyscrapers”.
All that to say that the story just didn’t work. It didn’t have any life to it. Like, the colors weren’t bright enough or something. The voices muffled. The acting flat. Just people moving through space that informed me that yes, the author thought he or she was clever and yes, many pieces were here to make what should be a good story. But it wasn’t.
Fuck, man. I don’t know. Not much to fucking know I guess. You’re the ones putting out a weekly magazine with “literature” in it. I’m on this end with very few published stories, a mostly broken-down van, no job to speak of, and strong opinions about an artform most people don’t give a shit about. I can see how this looks a little rough on my end. But, if I’m honest, I’m even a little apathetic about that too. This fucking engine search has got me depressed. Because it’s revealing that I don’t have anywhere to be. And yeah, I get that no one has anywhere to be, there’s no purpose to this life that isn’t self-made, just people, even with self-made purposes, moving forward on our own slightly different timelines until this meat body stops functioning. I get all that. But, I want somewhere to be. Or at least to feel that the places I occupy are the right places. And when I can’t drive away, you know…I feel like it’s not a conscious choice to be somewhere. It’s forced (even though the place I am now, it’s definitely a conscious choice to be here). And I know that’s all fake too. Just my fucked up brain shitting its pants. So, I’ll drink a few beers I guess, and the world will get a little better. Throw in some good food (yesterday was a fucking peanut butter pickle bacon burger that had green chiles on it; YUM). And good company. And maybe that’s all this growing boy needs. Who knows…
I probably just need something to do. I’ll go look for that engine. Hell, the one I’ve got a line on…you wouldn’t believe the mullets on the family that own that junkyard. That’s worth living for right there.
See you next week.
Nick
