Yeah, so, no one’s really precisely sure what to make of all this. The promotional blurbs here and herein are from people more eloquent than this person right now writing this, so the blurbs are actually where you want to look for an approximate spin on this book’s supposed contents, a supposed collection of supposed short stories. But is it really a collection, per se...? Are they really short stories…? A.F. Harrold once pointed out that technically speaking the "short stories" of Guy J. Jackson aren’t always quantifiable as “short stories”, and sometimes they are just “things”. Whereas Gwyneth Herbert, if we recall semi-correctly, once advised to simply drink Jackson’s "stories" out of a diamond-studded high heel with someone you prefer while lingering in lucidity on a country road at dusk. But at least it’s been firmly postulated, by experts the world over, that if one consumes these so-called “short stories” of Jackson’s at the rate of one “story” per day, with skipped days being acceptable, one will feel infinitesimally better about, and ever-so-slightly more able to handle, the fundamental inanities of living Life itself.
