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Dear Bitter Writer:
I think that having the capacity to feel a broad array of emotions is a big component of being a great, great writer, like you are, and with that in mind I was wondering what the first book that made you cry was?
Igor
Igor:
This one is very easy.
The first book that made me cry was Horton Hears a Who!
Completely fucking terrifying.
Dr. Seuss was one messed-up guy, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he turned out to some sort of unknown serial killer. He’s like a Stephen King for children. You should fear him.
Anyway, I was probably about four when this book was first read to me, and I immediately understood that our world was no different than the speck of dust Horton was holding. Our lives– even those of Mommy and Daddy– were incredibly precarious and vulnerable, subject to forces we know nothing about and couldn’t even begin to imagine. At any second, all we knew and loved could just vanish into an unknowable abyss. I did not sleep for two weeks after the babysitter (Summer) read this stupid book to me, and ever since, I’ve been cursed by a deeply penetrating existential terror, one that continues to govern my days.
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Dear Bitter Writer:
You’re such an interesting and charismatic person, I was wondering if you’d share with us any literary pilgrimages you might have gone on?
Oscar winning actress Jennifer Lawrence
Jennifer:
Ha, so great to hear from you!
As far as your question goes, I’ve never been on a, “this is the cafeteria where Kafka ate,” or, “ this is the dungeon where Dr. Seuss used to torture his victims,” kind of pilgrimage. Instead, I think of each day as a literary pilgrimage. I go out with the conscious intent of finding a moment of beauty in the world, of discovering something holy, and then I try to recreate it using words. And so each day is a journey, a pilgrimage toward something sacred that must be worshipped.
PS: Have you been getting my postcards? I have not heard back and was wondering if I was given the wrong super-yacht address for you?
PPS: I think you’re something sacred that must be worshipped!
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Dear Bitter Writer:
I just want to say how much I LOVED your brilliant book A VAN FULL OF GIRLS.
It is, and I hope this doesn’t embarrass you, the work of a true genius. Obviously, writing just pours out of you, but if for some reason you couldn’t be a genius writer, what do you think you’d do for work?
Taylor
Taylor:
Thank you for the kind, extremely perceptive words!
It’s hard to imagine a life where I’m not a writer, but if I were forced to live one by some alien over-lord or something, I think I would probably be a model. I think I could bring a lot to that job.
When the girls first met Rachelle and I they declared us their “real” parents–probably due to our liberal rules regarding drugs and alcohol and my collection of hats. No matter, since then, they have relegated their actual mom to “birth mother.” They are currently off working as camp counsellors for the summer, and have requested that I write them a letter each week. Here is one:
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My most cherished daughters:
It’s really hot in Toronto right now. So hot your birth mother might even consider putting on the AC. I, as you know, perish in the heat. Humidity is my enemy. I am TOTALLY racist against humidity. Not woke at all in that department.
Fuck the humidity!
I would vote for anybody who proposed building a huge wall between me and the humidity.
I really would.
Anyway, as you should, but probably don’t know, I work-out up to three hours a day.
Fact.
Not fake news!
Part of this routine includes walking ( pretty fast!) on a treadmill for 30 minutes a day. Today, on account of the heat, I took my shirt off to do this. Just as I was finishing and stepping off the treadmill, sweaty and a little bit dizzy, I spotted three young women passing by our front window.
I have to admit, I kind of froze.
Obviously, I wanted to dive out of the way and hide from sight, but startled, I guess, I made eye contact with one of them. Have you ever seen a face collapse? I don’t mean literally, like in a horror movie, but more an unmediated emotional response in the face of calamity.
This woman, the one whom I made eye contact with, had a normal, even confident resting face, but when she saw me standing there shirtless, all conscious control she had over her facial features simply vanished. It was like everything caved in and turned upside down at once—as if she had been seized by a kind of supernatural possession. She gasped and then leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees and stated to gag. One of her friends looked at me and started to desperately wave me away and out of their sight line, which of course, I dutifully did.
Really, really hate sorority girls.
Pretty sure they were from Alpha Gamma Delta.
Don’t you ever join Alpha Gamma Delta. They are the worst. Very stuck-up. And sororities are all about upholding cultural and social hierarchies. Sororities are not woke!
Thankfully, I am a middle-aged white man so the incident did nothing to diminish my mystifying confidence.
Anyhow, that is how my day started.
Soon I will clean the bathroom. Did you know that Rachelle made a chore list, laminated it and has now posted 8 copies of it throughout the apartment?
That’s more copies than there are rooms! It’s true, and you would not believe how unfair the list is!! Do you think I should be cleaning her hockey equipment and the Diaper Genie three times a week??? I swear, Rachelle thinks she’s such a big shot just because she has a job. Let me give you some fatherly advice, daughters, never, ever allow yourself to be defined by paid work. Or becoming a member of a fucking sorority.
We love you very much and ask that you please send photographs of Bigfoot and Mothman,
Your father
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My cat Frito would love it here!
My cat Frito would like to take it from here, Simpson!
Somebody here isn’t eating a balanced diet and if they’re not careful they’re going to get the gout!
I wouldn’t be so pleased with myself if I were you, one day you’ll get yours, and let me tell you, it won’t be nice!
Old Macdonald’s drinking caught up with him and he died two years ago. He had cirrhosis of the liver and then was taken by pneumonia. Just too weak to fight.
You, you’re just another good-time Charlie, you’re not getting the eggs for free from me, buzz-off!
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