Though it’s likely been said many times: You are a gifted writer.

Your pieces are variously direct, funny, observant, insightful, shoot-from-the-hip, genuine, and/or refreshingly fearless of political correctness. From reckless to wise, with more toward the wise.

Your story of maternal abuse deserves a Pulitzer. Expanded to a book, it could sell millions. So heartbreaking, so powerful.

Keep up the good work.

Learned of your site (not sure how) and read it. It almost makes me want to find out how to do a blog, etc. Actually it does, just not sure how. I have enjoyed your writing, and it certainly makes me think. I would almost be your male counterpart, if I was radically more successful economically. I never realized before that brutally honest, self indulgent reflection was a commodity. Thats not an insult, I hope thats the truth.

The gist of this is ‘How do I Start Doing this Too?’. Lots of the things on the website are worth commenting on. If I give them the consideration and thought they deserve, then multiply that by my ‘fuck around in circles’ factor, I might as well go into business for myself.

Any help is appreciated.

Thank you.

I’ve linked your blog on mine, I hope that’s alright. If not, too bad, because it’s mine and I can do that! Neener neener. Somehow I don’t think you’ll mind.

I could say more, but we all know how you feel about internet dick-sucking.

Regards,

FoK

she was born with out a face!

no really, i’m not making that up. her toug just sort of hangs out and her eyes bulge and i don’t know if she’s mentally astute or, um, special but she can’t hear properly, since she has no freaking skull and she sinuses sre messed and she can’t eat except through tubes…ahh and she’s something to look at

PREVENTING MENPAUSE
http://www.preventingmenopause.com/
i want to know what V thinks of preventing it, anyone should take a look if they want because apperently doctors haven’t studied it since the 1940s and even then they didn’t use the right hormons…i sorta want to keep my figure forever, so i’m all for assuming i don’t get a tumor or anything like that, i am too lazy to find V’s email but i like her site…sometimes

It is as if someone has opened my brain and poured out my thoughts on parenting, obesity and the perpetuation of the infantilistic victim mentality that exists today.

Kudos! Long live independent thought and the right to free speech! Down with soccer moms and suburban clones.

Ivy

I’ve got this magazine that I do for fun because I’m bored and it only goes out to my friends or anyone that I meet along the way that shows interest.

I layout and design this magazine called Friendly Press and it’s a mishmash of fun shit I find on the internet. Anyway, I’m just curious if you’d be cool with me ripping some of your funny posts and putting them in my mag as a VA section, like a feature in every mag with a different post.

If you’d want a copy to check this out for yourself before agreeing that’d be fine but it’s nothing more than a way for me to fill up my boring life with something to do.

E-mail me if you’re morbidly against the idea and I’ll stop. Which means I’ve already got a section and it occurred to me after the interest of my mag has been growing that I could maybe get into trouble if your sticky about dat shit. It’s fully credited if that means anything.

I have a very recent memory of someone saying “It’s all about you, isn’t it?” Well, actually, it IS all about me FYI!! And I can turn anything around to make it about me. It’s that secret (I would never admit it out loud), yet long-held realisation that I DO have bad in me, that requires that I add my pissy comment to the millions of others here - if for no other reason than to appease my own ego.

For fear of the verbal lashing I would expect if I were to suck up VA’s ass, I have come to merely say this: AMEN! The entertainment of reading VA’s blog is well worth the time squandered reading same blog. Well, let’s face it, if you are wasting your days away reading blogs, instead of keeping the business running smoothly, they might as well be entertaining and just a little admonishing and judgemental since that’s one way to make it about me ;)

We could go on for hours about what a blog post is truly worth in a literary sense, but let’s leave that to the academics, shall we? Really what I am concerned with here are your aspirations. Perhaps in the “blogosphere” they would be considered “thinly veiled”, but to me they cut through your indignation like the cries of an angel. You want to be a writer, dearest V. A serious writer. Just like that guy from high school who most any glee club girl would blow in heart beat, you treat them with contempt so as to court them. And of course, yes, secretly you love them. You even write with a hint of the alpha male because you understand his power. You understand it so much that when you deviate from his voice you scamper into it for fear of embarrassment (see “Absolutely Pointless”). But I digress.

Suffice to say, you love these people you write about. Every single one of them. If you hate them so much, then why not just hide away in one of the exquisite properties that you own? No, you are fascinated enough with them to analyze their quirks and intentions but not quite feminine enough to gossip. So where does that put you? It makes you someone who is perpetually on the outside looking in, doesn’t it? Sounds like a writer to me, but just as the many who have come so close, you are one who can’t quite get their shit together.

You have their ears and you have the tools; so what are you missing? First and foremost, you are missing the balls that you strap onto your better posts. Have you ever seen the trucks on the interstate with the fake testicles dangling from the backside? Sure you have. Like said trucks the strap on testicles do wonders for the aesthetic you are trying to create, but they betray a lack of inner confidence. Imagine defeating this lack of confidence to publish the kind of writing you can be proud of. Imagine taking a writing class (a residential wiring class? wtf?). Imagine reading the great works of literature to gain a sense of how to properly use a metaphor.

It sounds like a lot of pretentious horse shit doesn’t it? But, dearest V, they listen to you and if you strove to write better, who knows? Maybe the people who read this site would strive to at least read better. You could raise the intellectual bar on the Internet and at this point, probabilistically speaking, some would be sure jump over it with you.

But don’t get me wrong. This is a lover letter after all. A picture of you in a bikini? Pictures of your utilitarian purse? Your socks? Oooh how kinky… Forget all of that. Your other worldly beauty lies in what you secretly strive to become. Save the pictures.