Letters to the Editor

Welcome to Any

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To the Editor:

I greatly appreciate your attempts to have me submit to your site, but when I sent you those stories, I did so to receive an opinion, not publication. I know that I told you I was frustrated by my failed attempts to receive publication elsewhere, but upon further review of your site, it doesn’t seem that my stories and your site would quite match. Again, I appreciate your efforts, but it doesn’t seem right.

[. . .]

To the Editor:

We exchanged e-mail addresses at a concert a week ago. We would have exchanged phone numbers but you insisted that you always keep your cell phone off so it would be better if we e-mailed each other. You also insisted that you address it to The Editor, otherwise you might mistake it for junk mail and delete it. I’m not sure you remember all that, but it’s what you said. I’m e-mailing you to tell you not to e-mail me. I know it seems strange of me to do this, but I don’t want anyone to know that you e-mailed me. It’s not you. The problem is what people would think of me if they knew the sort of people who e-mailed me. I’m an independent woman and do not need to be pitied like that.

To the Editor:

I happened across your website one day, and although I am not qualified to comment on the quality of your submissions, I am just a little curious as to the identity of one Anthony Rossetti, resident of Chicago and proud owner of a stomach ulcer. I once knew an Anthony Rossetti who lived in Chicago and looked like he was on the verge of a stomach ulcer. He once told me a story awfully similar to the one in Thinking to Yourself. At the time he was sprawled out uncomfortably in the back seat of my new (at the time) Dodge Stratus. He said he had just broken up with his girlfriend rather loudly in a Red Lobster after he’d been convinced she had been cheating on him. He then began babbling about how the other guy was being cheated on too, but before he could finish he smashed my back-left passenger window with the heel of his boot and escaped into the early afternoon. I replaced that window at great personal expense and was wondering if this could perhaps be the same Anthony Rossetti and if I could have his contact information.

To the Editor:

This is Anthony Rossetti you anonymous prick. Anthony Fucking Rossetti. Guess what? You fucked up . . . again. Yeah, in this case, I’m referring to my submissions to the last issue. I gave you implicit instructions through email. I wanted my poems put in a specific order. Here’s the email in case you forgot:

“Yes, this month I've decided to take the poetry route. Sky line, characters, and stumbling down the street all are related. They have to be in that order. If you need more, use I got her when she was fat for Robert Rossetti.”

You see? First, I tell you that they are related and then I say they HAVE to be in that order. So answer me this. Which bitch was it? I know all about them, you told me about them, there aren’t that many. Which bitch did you fall in love with? Which bitch rejected you? Which bitch drove you to drink yourself so fucking blind you couldn’t read one goddamn email? All you had to do was read the goddamn email. I’m writing this letter to clear it all up. Yeah, I’m not just talking to you, am I? I’m talking to everyone who reads the site and I know this because you’re such a fucking asshole, you’ll publish the letter. So hello Everyone!

I’m not the only one you pissed off either. I told you to give “I got her when she was fat” to my cousin Bobby. It’s his piece. We wrote it together, but it was his idea. I told him I’d give him the credit. Well, he’s hoppin’ ass mad, and even though he thoroughly agrees with me that you’re a fuck-up, he’s convinced I’m lying. He thinks I had it published under my name on purpose. What a fucking mess, right? Well, thank yourself pal, because let me remind you again, it’s all your doing. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “Out of everyone on this site, people read me the most.”

Anthony Rossetti

To the Editor:

Thank you for your timely response to my question on Franz Kafka. When you invited me to look at your website, I was happy to oblige. You also asked for my opinion. Let me warn you, my friends have all told me that I’m very blunt when I give opinions, but I just tell people what I think and if I’m not honest I’m not happy and everyone else is worse off for it. I didn’t not like your site. It’s just that I don’t think you’re being as careful as you were with the Kafka site. You’re not choosing your submissions. You are letting your submissions happen to you. I had a website like this awhile ago, when I was younger (and I think now that you’re much younger than I originally thought you were), and all of my friends contributed. We had a thing going and it was fun, but I like to think I took a certain amount of care before finally deciding what would be published and what wouldn’t. I think you need to take more care of your site.

To the Editor:

I just want to say how overjoyed I am to be published in Any Four Words. No one has ever given me a chance like that, and I am very grateful for the trust you put in me.

To the Editor:

Jeff, this is the first I’ve ever found out about this site, and I’m really a little surprised at you. What else are you hiding from your family? Don’t get me wrong, some of it’s okay and I understand why you wanted to keep this secret, but you must have known somebody would’ve found out eventually. Wouldn’t it have been easier to get it out there instead of waiting for the inevitable? I don’t understand the secrecy.