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Fuccboi — Sean Thor Conroe
A jaw-droppingly original examination of masculinity under late capitalism from an electrifying new voice, for readers of Sheila Heti, Nico Walker, and Junot Diaz.
I was a modern-day hunter, riding my horse-bike around, delivering food to these basic f***s unable not only to make it themselves but even pick it up; hunting for food—foraging for nuts—at night, when safe from emotional predators; loving all my baes equally, according to the non-ownership-based polyamory of matriarchal yore.
I was a modern-day hunter, riding my horse-bike around, delivering food to these basic f***s unable not only to make it themselves but even pick it up; hunting for food—foraging for nuts—at night, when safe from emotional predators; loving all my baes equally, according to the non-ownership-based polyamory of matriarchal yore.
It’s late 2017, Trump has been president one year, and this aging, late-20s fuccboi is broke, bitter, and washed. Having already done did and failed at everything he set out in life to do—cross-country walker, SoundCloud rapper, weed grower—he now finds himself back in his college city, scrapping, tryna write, doing stimulant-fueled bike deliveries to eat. In thirsty pursuit of his ex, unable to accept that she has dropped him. And yet, still engaging in all the same f***ery—skrt-ing decisions, being coy and spineless, maintaining a rotation of baes—that led to her leaving in the first place. But how sustainable is this mode. How much f***ery is too much f***ery? Fuccboi finna find out.
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