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Normally I don’t feel this way.

I’m not a total asshole. But look. You’re young.

So many bad things are going to happen to you.

You’re just going to be bald and fat like the rest

of us. I’m not bald and fat, yet, but I am disappointed.

I can’t stop talking about how much I hate the world

because the world keeps happening. Ayn Rand

keeps happening. Your enthusiasm for Ayn Rand

makes me want to push you down the stairs.

I’m glad you’re engaging with literature but it’s not literature

and it is like fascism. Take China. Take China and the factories

that are like summer camp. A summer camp where you build iPods

and commit suicide. When I look at you, all excited and full of life

like the General Lee leaping over a bridge, I want to bend you

in your daisy dukes over the tree of life and show you

how the proletariat misuses and abuses the ellipses,

which is the most sincere thing I can say right now,

without pretending the same kind of awful energy

you’ve got for your own passions,

which aren’t mine, which hurt me almost as much

as your phone and your thumbs with their blurring motion,

texting OMG LOL WTF, beautiful in their speed. 

Posted 11/08/13
Books by Rebecca Hazelton
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