Bravo! I adore this piece. So many lines pulled me into the moment, in particular "I know the end of home. It's when the neighborhood you grew up in won't have you anymore." Looking forward to reading more from you.
thank you feels too inadequate of a response, but also like the least pandering or saccharine one that could be given. your words both cut and soothe, and the preciousness of such duality is incredible and powerful. so, thank you.
So I finished it all. You are a fine writer, and I'll admit that I am not possessed of a firm grasp of all the pains of womanhood. It is mystifying to many men, who unlike your childhood friend who turned violent, have at the core of their being a desire to please and support the woman they are with. Notice I don't say most men, because I have no statistics, and men can be duplicitous. But I feel that your writing indicates that women can be, too, that one can never be sure that the woman he is with is showing herself as she is, and not masking and hiding herself, secretly unhappy and unsatisfied. That's what triggered me in the first part of your piece. The second segment was, again, beautifully written, but the metaphors somewhat escaped me there. Like much poetry, one can appreciate the beauty of the language and imagery without fully perceiving the writer's intent, and that often doesn't matter, or will become more apparent after revisiting it a few times. Forgive me if I am too forthcoming with my feelings in writing these critiques. I guess it shows that your words have an emotional impact, and that's a good thing. Again, you are a fine writer, and I wish you success
Only read the first one about the 48-year-old man. It's very well written, but left me wondering why the hell you're hanging out with a man you have so much disgust and contempt for. Like you're somehow the victim of his being who and what he is, and you have no other option but to be in his bed. What, are you a sex worker? Remember you'll be 48 one day, if you're so lucky, and if a 20-something man is even willing to be with you, he'll probably be going over a similar list of private disgusts, unless he has a little more integrity. Nothing in the piece gave any indication of why you were compelled to be fucking a 48-year-old white man in the first place. I'll be honest: I'll go back and read the other two parts and maybe some of this will be answered for me. I confess to an emotional response to what I read, but it's unfair to judge without completing the piece.
I know I'm late to the game for this, but WOW. I'm not the 48 year old White man, I'm 64, but I loved every bit of that piece, because it so reminded me of the lifestyle we all lived during the 80s. The only difference was that instead of me being the 48 year old white man and you being the 20 year old black girl, my future wife was a 20 year old Hindu girl (with the same outlook) and I was just too stoned to realize what was going on. But I loved every bit of your piece, and I don't usually like to read non-fiction. I'm more into literary fiction, the Alice Munro kind (which is why I write long stories, I guess.)
Bravo! I adore this piece. So many lines pulled me into the moment, in particular "I know the end of home. It's when the neighborhood you grew up in won't have you anymore." Looking forward to reading more from you.
thank you feels too inadequate of a response, but also like the least pandering or saccharine one that could be given. your words both cut and soothe, and the preciousness of such duality is incredible and powerful. so, thank you.
I was compelled by the very engaging voice from start to finish.
Utterly wonderful piece.
So I finished it all. You are a fine writer, and I'll admit that I am not possessed of a firm grasp of all the pains of womanhood. It is mystifying to many men, who unlike your childhood friend who turned violent, have at the core of their being a desire to please and support the woman they are with. Notice I don't say most men, because I have no statistics, and men can be duplicitous. But I feel that your writing indicates that women can be, too, that one can never be sure that the woman he is with is showing herself as she is, and not masking and hiding herself, secretly unhappy and unsatisfied. That's what triggered me in the first part of your piece. The second segment was, again, beautifully written, but the metaphors somewhat escaped me there. Like much poetry, one can appreciate the beauty of the language and imagery without fully perceiving the writer's intent, and that often doesn't matter, or will become more apparent after revisiting it a few times. Forgive me if I am too forthcoming with my feelings in writing these critiques. I guess it shows that your words have an emotional impact, and that's a good thing. Again, you are a fine writer, and I wish you success
Only read the first one about the 48-year-old man. It's very well written, but left me wondering why the hell you're hanging out with a man you have so much disgust and contempt for. Like you're somehow the victim of his being who and what he is, and you have no other option but to be in his bed. What, are you a sex worker? Remember you'll be 48 one day, if you're so lucky, and if a 20-something man is even willing to be with you, he'll probably be going over a similar list of private disgusts, unless he has a little more integrity. Nothing in the piece gave any indication of why you were compelled to be fucking a 48-year-old white man in the first place. I'll be honest: I'll go back and read the other two parts and maybe some of this will be answered for me. I confess to an emotional response to what I read, but it's unfair to judge without completing the piece.
I know I'm late to the game for this, but WOW. I'm not the 48 year old White man, I'm 64, but I loved every bit of that piece, because it so reminded me of the lifestyle we all lived during the 80s. The only difference was that instead of me being the 48 year old white man and you being the 20 year old black girl, my future wife was a 20 year old Hindu girl (with the same outlook) and I was just too stoned to realize what was going on. But I loved every bit of your piece, and I don't usually like to read non-fiction. I'm more into literary fiction, the Alice Munro kind (which is why I write long stories, I guess.)
beautiful, every word. ♥️🌹
Wow, I loved reading this. Left me shook. Looking forward to reading more
It took me a moment to understand. Then, once I did, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Thank you for this piece.
Where can I find this amazing writer on social media?
Where can we find more of Young's work?