missive to the fiction editor of the new yakker yeah the new yakker

here's a good portion of a satire nobody will publish.


yo fiction editor of the new yakker
yeah the new yakker
after your latest indelicate form rejection eye

(open write to advise ewe (baa that eye will no longer submit my writings to ewe (baa baa bleat bleat as obviously really all too obviously (and evidently as well ewe (baa have no appreciation for anything remotely innovative (look up word as all ewes (baas and bleats publish is realism realism ("realism") the so called what is what is the the the tired old wave (ewes ass kissing cousins of the ny times book reviewers specially their best books of the year (every fucking year philip roth types come come while meanwhile behind your back post post modernism refreshed has emerged meaning that maudlin tales of pre-homicidal boys in beirut coming of age and neurotic spoiled couples in connecticut drowning in divorces and adultery in swimming pools and neurotic new york city couples doing the same in health clubs and dying relatives (always women revealing family secrets about sex and madness (innocently are passe and so so totally awesomely of no moment really what kind of people read that sort of fiction and not to mention that worn out meaningless supposedly pretty or clever poetry drivel detritus like chirp chirp new blue birds on the vine reminding the POET of a past love or global warming or hummer emissions so ok ok eye (open don't have a name in the new yakker yeah the new yakker's vicious circles though eye do have in meyen all over the internets in the best ezines like monday mamalard whipping whispering dung-beetles mad hatters review pluck all the chickens and kill them roosters (fuck fuck fuck) and its not like eye havent offered the new yakker my best like

(and to think ewe published donald barthelme
)

so to continue if ewe (baa are still listening MIRA MIRA in case ewe don't remember meye experimental breakthrewe the anorectic amoeba quartet a fused fiction in 4 melded parts viola zither bassoon and bagpipes was nominated for a pullcart prize by the awesomely innovative author and litblogger T lamington pod a herenowtomorrow refreshed writer with IMAGINATION tny yeah tny hasnt deigned to publish or maybe just maybe that guy hasn't bothered submitting knowing ewe (baa hum publish the same authors over and over again and sometimes some new ones in the circuit out with a debut killer novel published by happenstance house or its equivalent in another country specially like volatile countries in the middle east and if eye (open see another by whatsisname eye (shut am going to lose my breakfastlunchdinner so thank gawds meye subscription expires tomorrow fuck fuck fuck (yeah yeah yeah

one thing eye bet ewe (baa don't know eye (open was there at the verseye review party last saturday saw ewe schmoozing with updick and oats ewe (bleating bleating dressed in an intense beige pants suit thai silk immaculate hair fancy designer shoes with sensible heels bet ewe (blaa blaaing got at blarneys warehouse sale and ewe so fucking anorectic so eye thought why not go up to that fiction editor of the new yakker blaa blaa and give her a piece of my linguistic perspective you know on where contemporary literature is going its being clear ewe and that over-inflated outdated journal (bleat has no directions no commitment to the nouveau nouveau socialist-anarchistic movement but then eye (open figured ewe baa baa wouldn’t listen to me (object eye) so (eye waited in line at the cocktail counter a couple of times drank a couple of those special mango vodka drinks real stingy on the alcohol got even more bored and went to a poetry reading in the east village and anyway eye (open of course didn’t know anyone there at the vr in any of the little cliques almost all real young recent mfas and too successful too soon with no life experience talking about their latest publications in this journal and that and their agents and upcoming and latest memoirs and imagine with that crowd in the offices of the verseye review were at least a dozen mothers and a few fathers feeling really really NOW with babies in carriages and strollers yelling and screaming babies of literary celebrities yeah eye (open shut recognized a few of them puke puke


and thats all eye have to say except heres an excerpt from a work in progress eyem about to get published in part(s in the PRINT version of fourhoursesherewecumsreview (of post modernist refreshed momentous excrement.

so eat that little heart out darlin cause you CANT HAVE IT! (as if ewe (baa read ANYTHING by anyone ewe havent heard of though ewese all (blaa blaa bleat bleat say sure submit whatever ewe bunch of mendacious evil creeps:

and so

whatever: post-tsunami apocalytical meanderings
by aimee-patrice linderhoffer

Excerpts from Part 18: drowned dictionary: definitions of no use whatsoever ...........................


Res Ipsa Loquitor: The thing that is obviously like the rose is the rose is maybe like the clone of the rose because it looks like the rose.


Realism: A post dadaist expression of yearning for the ontological validation of domestic misery and bygone centuries.


Yours truly,


Aimee-Patrice Linderhoffer

copyright carol novack 2007