“That seems sort of harmless but then it kind of gets a little darker and sort of accuses these young pop artists of being part of this cycle where girls read magazines, feel terrible about themselves ‘cause its says “you should be skinnier, you should be prettier”. They feel terrible, and then these pop stars tell them that they’re perfect and that they’re beautiful and they buy the songs and then the popstar’s on the cover of the magazine so they buy a magazine again and it’s sort of this vicious cycle and I sort of implied he’s working for Satan or whatever.
"I sort of implied he’s working for Satan or whatever"
"thebrideofcaliban said: Man, I had two friends get short story rejection letters the same day. Sorry hun. Good luck with editing."-
Awww, thanks. It’s all good. I’m not taking it too seriously. Basically, it’s just an exercise in whether I can do it or not. My book is gonna be self-published, I just wanna try to get my name out there in a different way, so I have something to put out there with my author bio beyond “Published crappy poetry at 13, has two Communist cats, spends too much time rewatching Pacific Rim.”
Plus, I buy me a gift for every rejection just to say “You’re not a failure! Here’s a thing you want and usually have no justification for otherwise.” Because I deserve it.
And the New Yorker will rue - RUE, I tell ya - the day they didn’t want to publish me.
Two ways of dealing with tear gas grenades from comrades in Turkey: Either submerge them in water. Make sure you can close off the container cause the gas will still spread for a while. Or throw them in the fire so the gas burns off before it can spread.