Gripping writing. This article has stayed w me since the summer. I often think about the paths I could have taken in life, but through circumstance, genetics, and good parenting, I never did. A tiring task, but my mind just sort of does it, and itās the only way I know how to write half-decent fiction. My fiction writing is on pause because Iām better at painting, but mental walks down roads not taken continues. These roads include: incel, chain steakhouse regular, anarcho-capitalist, and suburban thug. I was probably closest to that last one, given my distrust of authority and reverence for Gangster Rap music. So my interest was piqued when I saw this New Yorker headline. Itās about the āGilbert Goonsā a group of violent rich suburban boys in Arizona. A side of America and young masculinity that isnāt often explored at this depth.
āWhen he was on the ground, a group of guys began ākicking on him,ā āstanding right above and beating down,ā āgetting on him and going at it,ā witnesses told police. The beating was over in seconds. āHeās out,ā someone said. A neighborās surveillance-camera footage showed ten boys running away, some of them laughing.ā