I remember first encountering Tao Lin and his writing through an Amazon “you might also like” advertisement in early 2009. I bought Shoplifting From American Apparel and kept thinking “when will chapter one fucking end?” and inadvertently finished the book in a single sitting.

A good twenty seconds down the drain. That wasn’t so hard was it? Sometimes you will simply walk up to someone you recognize, yawn back and forth a few times, then be on your separate ways. Other times, when at a loss for adroit conversation, you will ask, “What day is it?” or “Is it Tuesday?” or something similar, though you know perfectly well what day it is.

I was captured by the Algonquins. My parents stole me right back. Then a different tribe stole me again.

The McBatemans nodded enthusiastically as Brenda showed off his MOT certificates. She was beginning to buzz. She wanted to load up the VHS tape player with her Romancing The Stone video so she could watch it as soon as Jack left. He didn’t like Michael Douglas. He thought the actor was his competition. She restrained herself and instead pulled out Jack’s childhood pictures.

After another round of tea and half of Brenda’s special chocolate digestives were eaten before Jack came through the door. His time keeping was a bit a disappointment but she knew the couple would still be impressed. The McBatemans stood up to shake Jack’s hand but immediately sat back down. Jack’s freshly ironed shirt was now untucked and covered in a brown stain, his hair was tangled and messy and the overpowering smell of the pub and cigarettes hid the delightful aroma of his aftershave. Brenda snatched the tabloid paper, which had a naked woman on the front cover and shoved it down the back of the sofa.

Her boyfriend thinks she feels trapped so she learns to keep the harm of the dream in her sleep. She wakes up to her naked body. Out the window lawn mowers split grass into a fresh green smell. She sucks it in. Tomorrow is her birthday and she calls herself old, half as much as she wants, not nearly who she thinks she is.

I remember it perfectly, the way he scampered on over to our property, practically naked, woofing and slobbering and acting crazy. It terrified my baby so bad she started bawling from right there in her stroller. So I started yelling at Little Jordy Buchanan after that, trying to show him some discipline, but do you think the kid listened to me? Of course not. He just spun around in circles chasing his non-existent tail.

A gypsy tried to sell him a simulacrum of a necklace. Souvenir shops displayed garish, tacky memorabilia of the former Pope. These days Giacomo generally only went to the Vatican to buy cigarettes, since Italian state taxes did not apply there. He crossed the border, and trod once again through the Vatican’s echoing, painted halls.

His destination today was the office of Randall Krone, a Curial Monsignor, an American. Giacomo knocked and entered, and the Monsignor looked hungrily at the parcel Giacomo placed on his desk before unwrapping it.

Monsignor Krone turned the statuette around about ninety degrees and continued to inspect her, as if trying to stare her down. Giacomo felt very weary. Today was swelteringly hot. Monsignor Krone rotated the statuette another ninety degrees. “Big tits,” he commented in English. “Proves she’s a nature goddess.”

I’m excited. I say excited and that I am excited often, but that’s because I am excited often! I see good things for Untoward in the New Year. Really. Really good things. I’d like to start off, though, by thanking heartily and thoroughly all of the past year’s contributors.