Y.P.R.: Dear Neal Pollack

Wednesday, December 17, 2003 | Letters (from)

Dear Neal Pollack

by Amy Stender

Dear Neal,

I haven’t read any of your books, but I did enjoy reading your blog. I guess this whole “putting an end to the online journal” is just a way to get people to buy up your books. After a couple months (or days) of Neal-withdrawal, fans will be forced to get their Neal-fix via one of your long, erudite tomes. No more free thoughts posted for everyday enjoyment, no more getting to work in the mornings and wasting a full day reading your posts and dreamily staring at your pictures, no.

A couple months ago, Steve Almond was guest-blogging over at Bookslut and he called the “You’re Gonna Frey” [April 23, 2003] piece you wrote “the single funniest piece of writing in the known world.” After I read it, I knew I was in love.

Do you think we should have Almond as the best man? I mean, he is kind of the one who introduced us. If it weren’t for him, I would never have read “I want a tube of glue that tastes like a dumptruck of peyote.” You, lover, are a genius. If you want, during the wedding reception, we can burn an effigy of James Frey and then piss on the embers together.

One of my friends (I’m not sleeping with him) just heard about your blog departure. Since he knows we’re engaged (I swear I’m not sleeping with him), he decided to write me and ask how you’re doing. He saw you on “The Daily Show” and wonders: “Is [your fiancé] a closet genius who has no presence and is a great actor, or is he just a spazz that people read for their own cruel mocking entertainment.” I’m not exactly sure what he means… If you don’t want him to come to the wedding anymore, that’s fine with me. Plus, I’ll stop having sex with him. The guy’s a total crack-head anyway.

I’ve registered us at Amazon. Let me know if the choices are all right with you. It’s mostly barware since I’m such a heavy drinker, but there’s a meat tenderizer for you. We can eat caviar while riding around on our Segway Human Transporter.

You are related to Henry Rollins, right? You told me he was your half-brother and I believe you, I just want to … you know, make sure it wasn’t just a line to get me in the sack. Can you call him up and then put me on the phone with him? Do you know if Henry’s still single? He is so muscled and tattooed and dripping masculinity … He hasn’t R.S.V.P.ed for the wedding yet. Maybe you can talk to him?

Don’t forget: June 8 next year at the Greater Hartford United Church.

Love you,
Amy Stender
(The future Mrs. Neal Pollack)

P.S. You haven’t met T.J., Rochelle, Viktor, Dana and Donna (the twins) and little Neal Jr. yet, but they’re all excited to be getting a new daddy. Lord knows I use up men faster than toilet paper but I think you’re a keeper.

Mr. & Mrs. Pollack.

Amy Stender lives in the woods, feeding off indigenous roots and berries. Last winter, she got wicked crazy-hungry and took down a 4-point buck with nothing more than dental floss and a pen knife. She runs around in a T-shirt emblazoned “ILOVERMONT” and likes to yell “Funkified!” at strangers. Her favorite reading selections are usually penned by Neil Gaiman, Charles Bukowski, and Hubert Selby Jr. The first graphic novels she read were Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind (Volumes 1-4) by Hayao Miyazaki and she hasn’t stopped since. She wants Henry Rollins to know she thinks he’s a hot animal machine and she wishes he would return her phone calls. You can read her work at McSwys and on her blog, Fluid Motion.