April 27th, 2026 - Ordinary Wear and Tear
Dear TNY,
“Ordinary Wear and Tear” is your soup du jour.
It’s so so. On one hand, it’s obvious this was crafted by someone with a deft hand for storytelling. The world was brought to life with crisp details and pastoral-ish settings. It felt alive while I was in it. And most of the main characters were lived in and had some dichotomy as well.
But, it didn’t do anything for me. It felt like going to an art museum and looking at a painting that you could identify all the objects and speak to the nature of what was on the canvas, a plain view of common small town life, but there was nothing striking in the painting to make one emote. Maybe I’m dead inside, I don’t know.
The thing that really threw me off, though, was the writing style. From the first paragraph this felt like a more wordy Hemingway story set in the 30s in Montana. Especially because of the dialog. I couldn’t help but read everyone’s voice like actors and actresses in black and white movies. Or baseball announcers before there was TV and it was only radio. I was fucking shocked when bits of technology showed up, like the cell phone. I just couldn’t reconcile the voice with the fact that this was a modern story. Because the voice dominates. It’s creating the world and is part of the setting, but the world it created doesn’t jive with the voice creating it.
But, that being said, it wasn’t terrible. I just didn’t and don’t care. Like I said, maybe I’m a psycho.
Today is my last full day in Vermont. Travelling back tomorrow. The flight here was outrageous. I developed some severe tics and twitches at the airport, such that when scanning my ticket for the flight, a fella from the desk asked me if I was okay to fly because I looked a little unsteady on my feet. I told him I have Tourette’s, because it’s easier to explain than Functional Neurological Disorder or Conversion Disorder, and he let me on. Where I then proceeded to shuck and jive through my four hour flight in the window seat. I’m sure center seat wasn’t pleased. I got to the house at 2am and didn’t sleep a wink. So the whole next day while I toured the grounds I had the mad shakes and the gags. This anxiety stuff is wild. The brain is in fucking control, man. I didn’t eat for 48 hours. Nor drink. And slept one hour the next night. But, as expected, things kind of evened out. Except that last night every time I went to sleep, my ITB on my left leg would cramp up super hard. So I didn’t sleep much last night either. Happened about 20 times. I guess I’m dehydrated.
Regardless, I’m still here. Struggling. But, September 2025 is a long way away, and back then I didn’t think I’d make it another day. So here’s to waiting things out.
See you next week.
Nick
