Lone Star
I self-published my book. Waited nervously as it gathered internet dust for a few weeks. I made a new email account. Posted a scathing one-star review. Took to Facebook, Instagram and X (but this was when it was still twitter) with my fake review, tearfully lamented this denigration of my life's work. Friends, family and acquaintances all became keyboard warriors in my defense.
I sat back and watched social media work its magic. My lone star quickly multiplied until I averaged that top tier 5-star rating. Purchases were made, first out of pity and then (I'm hoping!) as a recommended read.
Names I didn't recognize began to show up. I was trending. A complimentary review appeared on a blog, then a few more, next I was invited to a podcast. Publishers started to show interest. Someone started a fan page (no, it wasn't me).
The crazy part? That review I wrote was everything I was scared was true about my book. Was it deceitful, what I did? I mean, if that review were true, surely the buzz would have withered and died by now. But still, I feel like a castle built on a lie can be nothing but corrupt.
Do I care?
One big empty promise
Subject: My ex
Rating: One star
Comments: I wavered between one and two stars - because the start of the relationship was so promising. And also, because it always takes two to tango and one star is rather letting myself off the hook. But for anyone looking for an emotionally available and caring partner - keep looking. This is not it! He's not interested in change. Every time you bring up something that bothers you, he immediately invalidates it and makes it a you problem.
Want him to go to more family events? His solution is that you have to drag him there kicking and screaming and deal with his resentful petulance the entire time you are there. He'll also hold that over your head for the next two years.
Go to something without him? Be prepared for a series of guilt inducing messages about you abandoning him and leaving him all on his lonesome - like the monster that you are.
Rude to your friends? Well he just can't be bothered to say hello. That's on you for repeatedly inviting them over.
Intimate relations? He will never instigate (but apparently if you 'grab him by the dick' he's always ready to go), he's very unbothered by your pleasure and he says if he has to wear a condom he won't enjoy it at all.
Foreplay? Not a fan. He'll spits in a bowl while going down on you (sure to make you feel hot, hot, hot)
Quality time? Him playing the PS5 while you sit there quietly.
Life admin? Your problem (he doesn't like talking to people on the phone, so enjoy hooking up the internet, dealing with the real estate agent, plumbers and any other life admin people.) It will also be your job to pay the rent and other bills
Cleaning? If you do sign up for a relationship - please make sure you have your own bathroom - because he won't ever clean it, but boy will he make it dirty.
Holidays? Wants to stay in a five star hotel (that's way above your budget) but doesn't want to pay more than half the bill. Also, never wants to eat at normal times, so dining is an absolute nightmare
Dates? See 'quality time'
Birthday present? $5 yoga mat from Kmart (after many, many hints about wanting a yoga mat)
Bedsheets? Never changes them, not once. Will go brown unless this is also a job you are willing to take on
Night out? On the rare occasions this happens, he'll get very drunk and want to punch someone. Not you, but really anyone else. Or a telegraph pole. He also does this gross thing called 'tactical vom' where he sicks his fingers down his throat and throws up. You'll probably be giving any night out one star
New job? Right after a brief congratulations he'll go out and get a better job, with a more impressive title and larger pay check, because it's very important to him to always one-up you
Dinner with friends? Be prepared for worried looks from your friends as he continuously puts you down and says unkind things in front of them
Grocery shopping? Wants to go down every single aisle, every single time, to see if there are any special buys
Overall? One big empty promise
Positives? Is currently single, on the rarest of occasions that he cooks, it's quite delicious, faithful, handsome, funny, can be quite cute, very intelligent, but also a complete idiot
One Star Review
I started writing a novel. I write roughly 800 words a day. It's slow going, and I have to wonder if the burn is too slow - if when we recount stories, ones we'd like to tell others, the candle actually burns in the other direction.
I have to wonder if my novel will get a one star review. If at the end of the day, the novel is for the audience, and not for the author themselves - but is surviving - writing prose that feeds some internal flame, living to see another day - for ourselves, or is it for others?
What if my novel never fills the void? Where does candle smoke go when there's no oxygen to even feed the flame; if a writer writes a novel and no one reads it, did it exist? Where does it go to make itself known?
This is already too abstract, and short, because I'm shot. I'm glad I'm embarking on this journey, but at what emotional cost? In the words of poet and writer Ocean Vuong, in his second-to-last Instagram post (because I'm not stalking him or anything), he says that he has completed his second novel - and that it took something from him that he may never get back.
Here's to leaving it all behind, to never getting back the pain, and the trauma, and instead making our stories of survival ones of hope, of our inner turmoil's flames going in one direction: skyward, where we can see the smoke spell out our dreams.
The One Star (re)View
Do not be afraid
Of any review made
To Sound like it's bad
Even malicious a tad
Not everyone is clear
Of prejudice, of fear
And envy for what you write;
They review out of spite
Maybe the weather was crap
Or they had had a bad rap
And wanted just to vent
As their day was spent.
For me, such reviews are fine
That one star? it's all mine.
It warms me too, all said and done
Like the one star, our glorious Sun.
In the Beginning
The deity board
conferred...
and in a second,
most honorable,
Unity concurred:
...give the world
in due judgement,
behind its closed
parameters,
on the scales
of Natural Law,
from zero to many
--one star--
stellar
up close
in probation
to herald the day
and illuminate the ways,
in deflection of dark,
as by reflected lights
--one star--
as especially ours,
to orbit around
and count down,
to pull in the shadows
and color night panels
--one star--
as lynch pin hovering
and it wasn't reward
or something borne
nor penance owed...
when the session closed
as public service does,
it was just, and it was,
just as it was...
one, among others
05.08.2024
One Star Review challenge @AJAY9979
Gas station burrito
My initial instinct was to paint the horror that I experienced in the sacrilegious and abhorrent light that can only be attributed to a rating of no stars. However, upon further reflection, I came to the conclusion that I, myself held a certain responsibility in the matter.
It was a cold night in March, and I was north bound on the New Jersey Turnpike. Weary from driving all day, and resigned to the fact that the final slivers of my sanity had escaped me, I resolved it was time to stop.
My cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, I stepped into the doors of the Thomas Edison Service Area. This is no ordinary service area, but the final stop before performing a deed that cannot be undone. A final chance to stop oneself from entering the hellish wasteland of potholes; the inferno of brake lights that they call the Cross Bronx Expressway.
I rarely waste my time in the lines that accompany the regular fast food joints within the establishment. After you've been on the road for so long, lines are just another type of traffic.
Instead, I chose to go directly to the hub of the most seasoned traveler. An area with no windows and compromised lighting, occupied mainly by passing truckers and tradesmen; men who have places to go and things to get done, if you will.
I browsed for a time, waiting for anything to catch my passing eye. Then it happened. My eyes, and perhaps my entire being, honed in on a beacon of hope. A potential comfort to lessen the pain of the Cross Bronx.
In front of me sat a microwavable burrito of rice, beans and cheese. In my dazed mind, it seemed to be quite a nice balance of carbs and protein and certainly less risky than the taquitos that roll around in that little display case for days on end.
My decision was made. I paid for the burrito and placed it inside the gas station microwave for the instructed one minute and thirty seconds. At the time, I payed no attention to the gas station cashier who would occasionally cast me a glance that can only be described as something between confusion and concern. Reflecting upon the moment with a clear mind, it seems as though I missed a valuable warning.
I was back on the road, less exhausted and almost sane, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the burrito. In that moment, the most fragrant spices and sweetest flowers could not counter the aromatic harmony and comfort that was produced by that burrito.
Unable to wait a minute longer, I bit into the burrito as the radio played the absolute banger that is "Low" by Flo Rida. It was a moment of near-solace where everything was almost okay. An eye in the storm, if you will.
The burrito was not bad. The textures and flavors didn't quite match what the smell had suggested, but I was hungry and the burrito warm. I finished it quickly and washed it down with a sip of Poland Spring, because I was not about to spend my hard earned money on a six dollar bottle of Aquafina.
I was ready for the Cross Bronx. Still, I did not want to go there, but sometimes there is a difference between wanting something and being ready.
In the beginning it was average. There were lots of bumps and the expected host of aggressive truckers and stupid people, but nothing tragic. I kept my head down and kept driving. Traffic was slow, but it was moving. All I had to do was not hit anything and I'd be through it soon enough.
It was just after the George Washington Bridge that I experienced that first twinge of pain. Initially, I thought little of it. The burrito may have crossed my mind but I quickly dismissed it thinking that it was just a coincidence.
Ten minutes later, I knew that it was not a coincidence. I was building up the remains of my stamina to convince myself that things were going to be alright. So what the gas station burrito gave me indigestion. Things could be worse.
By the Throg's Neck Bridge, things were even worse. I will spare the most concerning details, but this was the point that I truly began to worry. I told myself that I just needed to hold on a bit longer. Realistically, I was still at least an hour and a half from home, but in that moment of despair, even false hope seemed better than none.
I'd arrived on the Long Island Expressway and mercifully, the traffic was light. Suddenly, my preferred driving pastimes of complaining about the bumps on the road and wondering where, exactly, my tax dollars had gone, seemed obsolete.
I drove fast. The cops didn't matter to me in that moment. Instead I thought 'fuck it, let them come.' My entire being had isolated itself within the singular cause of receiving the twisting, bubbling pain in my stomach.
The Long Island Welcome Center couldn't come soon enough. Had it been only moments later, I may have perished. I ran straight through the doors, and through the middle of a foreign family that looked at me disapprovingly and muttered incomprehensibly.
It did not matter. In that moment, nothing mattered except receiving that pain; that absolute apocalypse that had been born from the gas station burrito.
After a period of resentment and betrayal, I have accepted that the gas station burrito may not have been a good choice. Better than the taquitos, but still a poor decision. To anyone who is still reading this, I warn you to stay away from any burritos in the gas station. Resist the temptation at all costs and remember this; sometimes it's okay to buy a banana or some crackers and call it a day.
When I woke up in the hospital I didn't know I would be missing parts. The doctor walked and said sorry about that I only have one star reviews. If I was able to give him another one star review I would have, but he cut off my arm, leg and a couple of my fingers. The operation I went in for was only to remove my gallbladder so imagine my horror when I awoke to see the damage he had done. I tried to yell at him to look at what he did to me but I couldn't talk. The doctor said oh yeah I got rid of your tongue, see I forsaw your reaction being like this so I went ahead and took the measure to make sure I didn't have to hear you. When my wife showed up to take me home she couldn't believe that the person infront of her was me. She yelled what have you done to my husband I can barely recognize him like this. He came in for a routine operation and you ended up dicing him up like he's a tomato. She started to ask me questions but when I couldn't answer she knew how bad of shape I was in. She then rushed me to another doctor to try to fix the damage but the doctor said that the damage was unrepairable and that in the best case scenario I would be able to adapt to the way my body was now, but the worst case was that I would end up dying from the several amputations and other wounds suffered because of the other doctor. My wife started crying and we went home, when we arrived home she began plotting on how she would get revenge on the doctor that ruined my life. The first stage of her revenge was to sue the doctor for millions of dollars, then she would get him shut down and put in prison for almost killing me when should have been a low risk surgery. When we first got to the court house for the hearing she kissed me on the cheek and said that today is when we get justice for what he did to me. When she wheeled me into the courtroom the jury gasped at the sight. They started whispering amount themselves about how that could happen to someone, then the judge walked in and everyone quieted down. The judge looked at me and my wife and I could see the look of horror and disbelief in his eyes when he looked at me. When the doctor walked in he said can we make this fast I have a appointment to get to its a very important surgery. The judge immediately went off and said how dare you come in the courtroom late and then have the audacity to request that we take this serious matter lightly and let you go and possibly ruin another person's life, not only will you pay this family millions but you will never perform surgery again because you will be serving life in prison. And with that me and my wife went home and lived out the rest of our lives.