Friend, some voices here mistake inconvenience for injury while others swallow blood and call it supper. The diner tantrum reeks of worshipping status; the rust-belt prayer wears denial like armor; the girl in the hood is doing the state’s job with a child’s spine; the baker in Kharkiv keeps the covenant of bread under sirens; the boy in Gaza eats a rat and still shares a blanket, he is the only authority I recognize today.
And that last hymn to Maasai life reads like a postcard, beauty without history turns into a lullaby for the comfortable. My measure is simple: who protects the fragile, who buries the dead, who feeds the living, every other complaint is theater.
I missed this when you first posted it awhile ago, but I'm really happy I've found the time to catch up. This is brilliant. 'The Gaza, Palestine' hit really hard, particularly the ending, where the boy imagines the star as his mama laughing while he struggles to stay alive. Structurally, the whole piece is really elegant: starting with the trivial complaints of the rich, then each chapter worse than the last, diving deeper into suffering, until, finally, the note of hope at the end. I also really loved the notes of humanising humour threaded throughout ("My Petro died on the toilet during gas crisis!" nearly made me laugh out loud - there's a couple of ways that could be taken, after all. ""I want nuggets!" Boy, we got bologna!" raised a laugh as well, because it's such perfectly observed exasperation). There's a great deal of warmth and nobility in these characters which makes their fates so much more tragic. All in all, the story feels like a horrific, all-encompassing snapshot of the state of world, but one that still allows room for that vital element of hope.
Wow! What a buzz kill! Almost as much fun as reading the daily news.....
You've captured both un-sympathetic and sympathetic voices, all real in their own ways. The piece is a reminder of what's happening in the world, so much of it bad. I'm reminded of what my step-mother told me many times. If you walk into a room and everyone puts their troubles in a pile, you'll pick up your own and RUN out of the room. She was absolutely right!
You have a skill to write sarcasm that drips with reality. The "humor" is so sad because it's so biting and "spot on" as the Brits say. It forces readers to take a moment and think.
My only bright spot in reading this well written post is that I'll happily pick up my own troubles and RUN! Thanks
Truly excellent writing and observation. Discomfort and appreciation are relative measures. I think most people would be happier wearing horse blinders. Hmm, maybe that book about horses, that I had to read in second grade, was an allegory.
I rarely read writing that makes me laugh and cry and get angry and feel triggered. Yours did all that. And more than that. It made feel human and connected. Your writing feels more alive than most people. Thank you for that.
So much power on your writing. So much truth served as fiction. Loved every word, every sensation you made me feel. Thank you for sharing your talent. Thank you for giving the world things to think about 🫂
That was too... Fucking... Good. Gods damn. I don't even know where to start... The writing? I read every section out loud in a different voice automatically (I was reading it to Lynn over the phone). So powerful. Damn. I'll be back.
Friend, some voices here mistake inconvenience for injury while others swallow blood and call it supper. The diner tantrum reeks of worshipping status; the rust-belt prayer wears denial like armor; the girl in the hood is doing the state’s job with a child’s spine; the baker in Kharkiv keeps the covenant of bread under sirens; the boy in Gaza eats a rat and still shares a blanket, he is the only authority I recognize today.
And that last hymn to Maasai life reads like a postcard, beauty without history turns into a lullaby for the comfortable. My measure is simple: who protects the fragile, who buries the dead, who feeds the living, every other complaint is theater.
Amazingly powerful piece.
Beautifully haunting story.
I missed this when you first posted it awhile ago, but I'm really happy I've found the time to catch up. This is brilliant. 'The Gaza, Palestine' hit really hard, particularly the ending, where the boy imagines the star as his mama laughing while he struggles to stay alive. Structurally, the whole piece is really elegant: starting with the trivial complaints of the rich, then each chapter worse than the last, diving deeper into suffering, until, finally, the note of hope at the end. I also really loved the notes of humanising humour threaded throughout ("My Petro died on the toilet during gas crisis!" nearly made me laugh out loud - there's a couple of ways that could be taken, after all. ""I want nuggets!" Boy, we got bologna!" raised a laugh as well, because it's such perfectly observed exasperation). There's a great deal of warmth and nobility in these characters which makes their fates so much more tragic. All in all, the story feels like a horrific, all-encompassing snapshot of the state of world, but one that still allows room for that vital element of hope.
Naming your rat dinner. That's hardcore.
Wow! What a buzz kill! Almost as much fun as reading the daily news.....
You've captured both un-sympathetic and sympathetic voices, all real in their own ways. The piece is a reminder of what's happening in the world, so much of it bad. I'm reminded of what my step-mother told me many times. If you walk into a room and everyone puts their troubles in a pile, you'll pick up your own and RUN out of the room. She was absolutely right!
You have a skill to write sarcasm that drips with reality. The "humor" is so sad because it's so biting and "spot on" as the Brits say. It forces readers to take a moment and think.
My only bright spot in reading this well written post is that I'll happily pick up my own troubles and RUN! Thanks
Truly excellent writing and observation. Discomfort and appreciation are relative measures. I think most people would be happier wearing horse blinders. Hmm, maybe that book about horses, that I had to read in second grade, was an allegory.
Thank you so much for stopping by.
I hope you'll visit me again.
This article struck a deeper and wider chord with me than any other article I've ever read on Substack.
Bravo 👏🏻 well done
I'm glad you felt it, my friend.
I appreciate your words very much.
You are a very talented machine, my friend. ❤️
Thank you so much, Tony!
I actually heard every voice change and felt every soul
I rarely read writing that makes me laugh and cry and get angry and feel triggered. Yours did all that. And more than that. It made feel human and connected. Your writing feels more alive than most people. Thank you for that.
So much power on your writing. So much truth served as fiction. Loved every word, every sensation you made me feel. Thank you for sharing your talent. Thank you for giving the world things to think about 🫂
This was incredible! Your immersion is so good.
That was too... Fucking... Good. Gods damn. I don't even know where to start... The writing? I read every section out loud in a different voice automatically (I was reading it to Lynn over the phone). So powerful. Damn. I'll be back.
It has a Bukowski feel to it. This was Great!
Really powerful stuff. Excellent writing.
It conjured up a number of images and emotions as I read through it.