to scratch Tyler Barton
He would argue that a skipping record was not a broken record. Some
things just know what they like. He would argue that the six-hour work day
saves lives. He would argue—and this was him at his worst, after two Yerba
Matés—that most hand dryers hurt his hands, which he said was evidence of
his being a sensitive man. He was very proud of the fact that vinyl had
made such a huge comeback, though in reality he had nothing to do with it.
He was simply stubborn. And supported by his wife's cushy job at the
totebag company. When someone asked if he worked with his hands, he would
show you the calluses on his fingers. He would hold his calluses up to the
lamp light beside the register. He had names for some of them. They were
from his bass guitar. He was not my real father, but the way I pitied him,
like it was my one job, you'd almost think he was.
Tyler Barton's debut collection of stories is forthcoming from Sarabande Books in November 2021.
Find him at @goftyler or tsbarton.com.
Read his postcard.
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