Letters to the Editors of Women’s Magazines
“Zooey Deschanel’s “31 Days of Summer” is posted on my wall so I can rub my hands against it as often as I want. I trimmed off most of the text so it’s pretty much just her face. I’ve also been licking the eyes, so those are almost entirely worn away as well. What a great article, thank you!”
What Peter Atencio failed to warn you about was the crisis of sadness that this letter’s lead-in is waiting to visit upon us all:
“Zooey Deschanel’s “31 Days of Summer” is posted on my wall so I can cross off her ideas as I try them. Dining alfresco, running under a sprinkler and air-drying my hair are as rewarding as I thought they’d be. I can’t wait to see what Deschanel is up to next!”
Is this the real letter? Are the ones not in italics actual letters? Because I can’t handle the idea that this woman exists. How does she make it from one moment to the next without giving up on life? Or exploding? Or, more likely, just dissipating into a beige-colored mist?
Air-drying one’s hair is rewarding? Oh, God. Please don’t be a real lady. I could just cry.
Thanks a bunch, Atencio.
