Wednesday

It's not you, it's us. Please don't call here anymore.

Following in Haypenny's footsteps, YPR is shutting it's doors. I can only presume they're not kidding (because they said they're not).

How do I, personally, feel about this? You ever know you've been dumped when you go to your boyfriend/girlfriend's house, see they've moved all their shit out and left no forwarding address? That's how I feel. You ever talk to someone and a couple days later learn they've been committed to the psychiatric ward of a hospital? And you're thinking, "Man, I didn't see any sign that they were about to snap..." That's how I feel. You ever catch a 89mph curve-ball to the nuts? That's- Well, I can't say as I know what that feels like... but I can imagine and that's how I feel.

Damn. Now I have to find another high-profile (higher profile than this blog, anyway) place to pawn my writing off on. Working my way up to the New Yorker, baby.

No comments: