Actual Cover Letters I Send To Literary Magazine Editors Pt. 1

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Dear Wonderful Editors at the ______Review,

I write this cover letter as the worst song from Elvis Costello’s “My Aim is True” pops up on my Spotify mix. Needless to say, this wasn’t an ideal way to start out, but hey, it can only get better right? It’s like tripping before you get on the dance floor, puking before you run, or writing a cover letter to a publisher. Just get the awkward stuff out in the open ASAP.

I mean, I could’ve talked about how great your journal is, or how I read it every day, or I why really enjoyed “What Your Drink Says About You” By Josey Rose Duncan. But come on, you know that you guys put great stuff out there. I know that you guys put great stuff out there. Instead let’s just cut the bull shit and nod our cowboy hats across the bar in a “game recognizes game” fashion. I’ll ramble about music, and you read my piece and tell me what you think. And if it’s not for you guys, that’s okay! We’ll do this whole thing again next month with a new piece and a new rant.

What do you think? I think it sounds good to me.

Anyways, below is my 800 word story called “Nouns and Verbs”. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing both the piece and the letter.

PS. For the record it was “Watching the Detectives” Not sure if any of y’all are a big EC fan, but trust me, without that song that album is a 15/10. Easy.

The Smiths – The Queen is Dead : A Review

I found this record when I was in High School and it’s amazing. Both as a whole and  each song individually.

-Every time I hear the Boy with the Torn in his side, I want to get up on my nine story roof during a thunder storm and scream the ending with Morrissey, while the wind and rain pour on my half opened shirt. Basically Seal in the Kiss from a Rose video, only actually a good song. It’s addicting.

-I know it’s over makes me want to run as fast as I can away from my high school girlfriend of three years who just broke up with me over a text message. I want to not just run, but FUCKING sprint until my heart gives out, because somehow at my 19 years of life, I think that is the only way I will feel better.

-Never Had No One Ever, makes me want to buy the largest bottle of Tito’s Vodka and drink it alone in my bathtub for hours. I want to yell at the wall mirror about all shitty dates I’ve had and all the girls I’ve alienated. I want to keep tipping the bottle back until I pass out in a pool in my own vomit. Losing my job, liver, and dignity all in one song.

-Big Mouth Strikes Again makes me want to make a comic flip book of the feeling that comes over you after saying said something you should’ve and flip it for the entire song. Also I want the book to show snaps of me from when I learned words to today, reminding me off all the shitty times I’ve hurt people with my words.

-Cemetry Gates reminds me of the feeling of every walk home after a great first date. It makes me want to swing around every streetlight pole and heel click over a mud puddle. There will be a homeless man on a corner that I’ll give him my no limit Citi card because, well fuck it, I feel great! What’s money, when you got a feeling like this?

As a whole, this CD makes me want to re-live every man to woman type relationship I’ve ever had in one moment. Essentially a drug that releases three thousand times more dopamine than Heroin. And I want to be so exited to take it, that I stop behind a dumpster and have my body implode on it’s self, near a pile of maggots, spewing fluid from every orifice because it can’t handle all the raw emotion these four guys made.

In short, this album is fucking amazing!

15,552,340 out of 10

Featured Blogs that Get More Views Than Mine: Finding French Charming

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So my homie K-squared gave me a shout out on her blog Finding French Charming  Normally, I’d play along except I have exactly 3 people’s blogs I follow.

…and she’s one of them.

So the whole pay it forward idea is a bit moot, but I’ll play along for the for the “lulz” as the kids would say but only after I thank her my way, with a blog review.

*******************************************************************************

I’m not entirely sure when I started following Finding French Charming. I’m pretty sure I was getting cozy with some Makers Mark, and saw a beautiful women holding “Mis Amor” posters and liking something I wrote. I clicked over and read the tagline:

Finding true love…. Even after forty.

HOLD

THE

FUCKING

PHONE!

There is no way she is in her forties.

NO WAY!

Sweetheart if you’re over forty, then I have a 14 inch dick. I’ve seen a lot of bull shit on the interwebs but I’m not buying that one. At some point if you could comment your doctor’s name and phone number that would be great. I would love to have a long chat about what I need to be doing upkeep wise.

Anyways, I started reading her story and could instantly relate. Lived in Texas, been on a shit ton of online dates, looking for someone who doesn’t suck. Okay nothing new.

…But wait a minute, she actually found someone? Like found someone, found someone, from the internet? What the fuck?

Holy shit, that is fucking amazing to me! A normal person (at least I assume from your writing), finding that in the crap shoot that is the internet. Wow!

I don’t mainly talk about my background much, especially when it comes to that scene. But If I’m taking stats, They’re probably in the ballpark of something like this:

-Been in the online game for only 3 years, only dated girls I knew in person before that.

-Hundred of dates,

-Age range 18 to 54

-All different backgrounds, races, nationalities, and even a few that didn’t speak English.

-Most of them ended in either sex, drunken make outs, awkward conversations were be  both said fuck it, the girl being crazy or weird and me not pursuing, or the opposite, me acting like a jackass and the girl taking off.

-I’ve probably only been on a handful of second dates, mainly because I was either self loathing around the holidays, she was a good fuck, or I genuinely liked her.

-All and all, I can think of three I would like to see again.

-So at the end of the day, we’re talking a 3% success rate for me (in multiple states mind you) when it comes to some type of actual connection.

So I have to say it again, that shit is fucking amazing to me. I bitch a lot about online dating because it really doesn’t make sense. Let’s judge someone solely based on how they take pictures and how witty their 500 character bio’s can be, and whether or not they are in close proximity to me. It’s like the retarded lottery, except for whatever reason I keep playing, which makes me wonder who’s really the retarded one.

But I digress…

Here’s the thing I dig the most about the K-money’s blog. It’s her tenacity. This journey isn’t all sunshine and roses. Shit happens. Literally. She clogs the toilet the first time she meets her French boyfriend’s mother. She has to deal with douche bag lawyers with fancy drink orders, Micro-manager motorcycle riders, fireman Hoarders, and many more cringe worthy stories in which I’m sure she hasn’t talked about yet.

And through it all, she keeps her head up, and goes forward. I like that. A lot of her writing is humorous, with a “it’s not a big deal” vibe to it. I’m sure she didn’t always feel that way but the fact she can look back and joke to random readers around the world about her life in this way is pretty awesome. I got to say this French Charming sounds like a lucky guy, cause who doesn’t find that sexy?

Overall the blog is an 8 out of 10

If you’re ever bored in the Chicago area, shoot me an email. We’ll grab a drink and trade shitty date stories. I have a good one just off the top of my head, where a bartender rack jacked this girl from OKC that I was convinced was a catfish, at a packed bar Saturday night in Texas. Can’t make that shit up.

************************************************************************************

So as promised my two quotes about love:

“Love is all right for those who can handle the psychic overload. It’s like trying to carry a full garbage can on your back over a rushing river of piss.” – Charles Bukowski

“Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go around looking for it, and I think it can be poisonous. I wish that people who are conventionally supposed to love each other would say to each other, when they fight, ‘Please — a little less love, and a little more common decency” – Kurt Vonnegut

Always Remember Where You Parked

**This is a Story I revised from an old blog**

“I can trust you right?” the voice said on my phone. It had such a calming tone as if the person on the other end already knew the answer. I could tell it was just a knee jerk reaction. Ol’ boy and I had never officially met in real life yet, but we had messaged back and forth on a forum we both write on. He was a vet and I was just a young grasshopper in training.

“Yea man, I got you.” I said in a chill voice.

“Okay, I’ll hit you up where we are heading in a bit,” He answered back.

I hung up. My mood was already high from hitting on group of girls at H&M earlier. The main chick had a blonde daddies little girl attitude, that screamed for me to playfully put her in her place. She was standing at the checkout line having a serious internal crisis about whether to buy a necklace.

“I’m really hoping you take one more step, because I am totally taking your spot in line.” I said with a coy smirk. My eyes locked with hers. She froze a bit, and had a confused look about her as if to register that this total stranger has read her body language. From there it was classic back and forth teasing. During pauses, I would stare at her ass determining if it was more onion or apple shaped. I never reached a definite verdict, but leaned towards apple.

#

My boy hit me back and I hopped in my 2016 Navigator rental to meet him. Never mind the fact that I’m late returning it and have Jerry from Alamo leaving me stern voicemails. Ol’ boy called with an SOS flag needing a wing man to run interference, don’t be an ass Jerry. Plus, he dropped the line that she was from France. Never met a French chick before, but I’ve also never met a normal person from the internet before. Hopefully this will be a first.

The spot was popping off as I pulled in. The street was all blocked off due to the debauchery. I parked at a random garage and proceeded to get lost multiple times on my way to the bar, typical occurrence for a new Floridian. No worries though, I’ll just ask the nice citizens of South Florida for directions. “Excuse me miss do you know whe-”

“GO AWAY, I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!”

Got to love the hospitality around these parts.

Finally, I find the place and meet up with my internet friend. He’s right up my alley, chill guy, and has a vision for his future, which is one of the things that brought us together.

He introduces me to his friends and without hesitation drops a hint of information about how this French girl looks more like Crystal from the blueberry farm. No curve-ball my way, saw that one coming. But I’m here for the fun of the night.

And like a scene from a bad horror movie she walks in. 7 feet tall, short hair, and broad shoulders. My money is on her if she challenged Shaq to a 1-1 game. But being the polite guy I am, I introduce myself to her and shake hands.

“Jesus Fuck!” I say out loud. Her meaty calloused hands are twice the size of mine. One hand job and my dick will become dust! No bueno!

We plow through the rest of the night. I’m having a blast chilling with my new homie, flirting with some women, and he is all over his girl. Everyone parts ways and I’m left with Frenchy. We chit-chat about why she’s in the states. She won a scholarship and is living out a dream to study here. As a poor educated man myself, I can respect that.

Eventually, I say my goodbyes and roll outside. I get the street corner and realize I have no idea where I parked. It’s the first time I’ve ever been to this city. All the parking garages look the fucking same. While, I’m trying to retrace my steps in my buzzed head, there is a tap on my shoulder.

I turn.

”Could I get a ride from you?” said Frenchy with eyes that said she wanted more than a ride. You gots to be kidding me.

I immediately forgot about where my car was. I had a serious dilemma. I’m on a cold streak, should I fuck this monstrosity of a women or not? The pros and cons get weighed out very quickly.

Pro: I’m drunk, horny, and will break my cold streak

Con: There is a good possibility that she does kegels as a part of her workout and her washboard pussy will snap my dick off.

Pro: That could be a funny story to write about later.

Fuck it, pros win.

I grab her waist and pull her close. We begin walking. “The car is this way.” I said in an assuring tone. To kill some time I began teasing her about how french girls don’t shave their armpits. This goes on for a bit and she eats it up.

I’m like a magician doing misdirection. I’m flirting on the outside, but scanning around the street on the inside.

Remember Dammit! Where the fuck did you park!

After walking down different blocks in circles, 30 minutes later I start to get the sense she knows somethings up. Time to kick it up a notch.

“Oh there is the 7-11,” I say.

My old roommate taught me that trick. I throw in another for good measure.

“Here I thought we where on 4th street, ohhhhh. Sorry I’m an idiot sometimes.”

Nailed it! This works for another half hour.

Unfortunately I still can’t find the damn parking garage!

The jig is up and it’s painted all over my body language. She senses it. Nothing I can do at this point. I know what’s coming.

“You don’t know where you parked, do you?”

No hesitation, “Yea, I have no idea.”

She takes a step back and let’s go of my hand. She pulls out her phone.

“I’m going to Uber home. But it was nice to meet you.”

And just like that, the factory closes down for business.

Tinder Date #137: A Review

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Today at noon, I received a message from her about an argument we had the night before. It said something about the Mexican refugee camps and how the kids born in this country aren’t citizens. It was one of the first conversations we had and I wanted to leave right then.

It wasn’t about what she was saying. Truth of the matter is, I could give a flying fuck in the night about her stance on political issues. But it was something about how she was saying these statements. Each one was connected to another idea with no supporting structure, like a tangled mess of cords in the bottom of your suitcase. I snacked on kung pow chicken as I listened further.

“Look people don’t believe me, but I know. I’ve lived in 14 countries and can speak several different languages. I use to live with a rich Jewish family that had connections. Like they told me Obama was going to be president back in the 90’s. Like I knew then!”

I took a sip of my Moscow Mule. This girl fully believed every syllable she was saying. It reminded me of a group of 70’s year olds sipping coffee at 6 am in a Greek Restaurant and talking about the Illuminati.

“I believe you. I’ve heard some of these conspiracy theories before.

“THESE ARE NOT CONSPIRACY THEORIES! I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY THESE THAT!”

I smiled and ordered another drink.

Things actually calmed down after that and we started talking about cities in Michigan. Then moving out of mitten.

She mentioned that she always had to keep moving to the next thing. It’s why she traveled so much. It’s why she had these crazy lifestyle stories. Like living on the streets in London, or stealing a passport from an Irish drug kingpin and leaving it in a taxi.

After she told me that, I knew exactly who she was. I think that is the reason why I wanted to leave. A lot of people I’ve met who travel have this calmness to them that’s hard to put into words. I like to think it’s the things they’ve experienced coming through their actions. But I think it only happens when you reflect and compare which is hard to do when you’re chasing the next thing.

Her stories were like a season of Weeds or Orange is the New Black (Yes I know, same writer). Lots of self induced shit, piled on with more self induced shit. I mean the reason she’s in Chicago in the first place is because she is traveling back home to Michigan and decided to not get on the last bus. All I kept thinking about is what is this girl running from? Do I really want to find out and get tangled in all that?

I sure as fuck didn’t but I’m always game for an adventure and a good story. So I stuck around.

#

Later today, at 5:00pm a few more messages came in from her. All this is really strange considering she still has my number. It’s never good when someone jumps back a level of communication.

They read:

“What’s it like being gay and dating women? Like I’m just curious?”

Hahaha

She was cute. Definitely one of the better looking girls I’ve met off Tinder. She was throwing the cat at me all night. But I wasn’t interested and ended up going home alone. My mind kept running with the last handful of shitty one night stands where I felt like an ass hat.

Hank Moody would say “A morning of awkwardness is better than a night of loneliness.” That fucker doesn’t know what he is talking about. There are worst things than being alone, but it often takes a while to figure that out. I’d rather be alone than with someone I can’t seem to find anything beautiful about. It feels too much like settling.

I had my first one night stand when I was 18. I was at my buddy house and I didn’t catch her name. It was like a badge of honor. Friends cheered me on. But 10 years later, things are different. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me and most of the one night stands go one of two ways.

Sometimes they’re like a cherry on top of a gorgeous night where two people meet randomly, click on different levels, and have an adventure around the city. Those ones stick with me forever.

But the ones I have off this app are closer to the other kind. Their all business, like the red light district in Amsterdam. Two humans borrowing each other to masturbate with because they have this emotional urge inside of them. I use to be okay with that, but lately it’s been feeling less like free will.

Dating use to be fun, why does it suck now?

#

In summary,

Don’t use the phrase “Conspiracy Theories” ever.

Cute girls aren’t use to getting rejected by their personalities.

Always follow the golden rule: “Never bump uglies with crazy” even if that means you get called gay.

Tinder sucks.

And I feel like an alien for preferring some type of deep connection with a few people as apposed to just skimming the surface with hundreds of people.

2 out of 10, would not date again.

Well Shit….

You spend the first 5 years feeling shit around you

While the next 5, you spend getting told about all the cool shit out there.

So you spend the next 10 years daydreaming about all the shit you want.

Then you spend the next 10 years figuring out how to get the shit you want

Which makes you spend the next 10 years upset that the shit didn’t make you happy

That forces you to spend the next 10 years even more upset because now the shit you’re made up of, stops working.

So you spend the next 10 years taking care of some of the shit and giving the rest of your shit away.

Then finally, you spend the last of your days upset about the shit you didn’t do.

 

However if you’re smart,

and very wise,

you’ll figure out there is nothing better,

than just appreciating the beauty

in all the shit around you,

simply the way it is.

And accepting that all this other shit you’ve been told,

is simply

just

fucking

shit.