The anthology I have a story in got a review in this week's Village Voice:
Many of the authors are young, and Userlands suffers from a lack of consistency. Several stories read like hastily-edited entries on a personal blog, waxing poetic on a strange sexual encounter or the vagaries of everyday life...Cooper's anthology may ultimately prove that serious fiction still longs for the confines of a printed page, but it does highlight a significant trend: writers using the Internet to hone their craft. What's more, it asks what the digital revolution portends for our flesh-bound selves.
Monday night, I had sex with a boy for the first time in an embarrassingly long time, incidents in bars and old men excluded. It was nice. The boy was nice looking and was in fact quite nice, but in bed, fairly aggressive, shoving my head on his cock, biting my neck, being more forceful than I ever would have guessed, much to my delight. We rode over the Williamsburg bridge on the J train, listening to Gin Blossoms from his iPod. I had totally forgotten how amazing a song "Til I Hear It From You" is. On the way to my house, we walked by the now gutted Commodore theater, and he knew the name of it, surprising me, surprising me even further that he had been in the theater when it was operational. The ceiling is totally gone, but the roof's structure is still in place, and it is so fucking gorgeous, this shell of a theater with pieces of detritus hanging from the beams, the sky visible through all of this.
I only have eleven days left at my job and this reality struck me today as just a little terrifying and I am beginning to question whether I made the right decision, or if, I am beginning to wonder, I have put in notice at a really sweet job, with easy hours, decent pay, and the ability to play on the Internet all day. Those things are all well and good, and I very may well totally regret this decision when I am unemployed and poor, or may regret it even if I do find a job soon, hating the job terribly and longing for the situation I gave up. I may this; I may that. But I also may do many other good things, and it's that hope that stimulated me to change my situation originally and which I still hold to in confident moments, almost even sure that great things will come out of this decision, a move further along toward where I would eventually like to be.
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