Listen, going on a 10-day RV trip with your friends and collaborators to a new city with new theatre in tow is exciting and all, but what I'm really pumped about is the road food I'm about to start baking.
“It was November—the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.”—
He didn’t have a job or a bank account. He once left a pot of macaroni sitting out in his kitchen so long that we found maggots in it. He painted pictures of me and put them into a comic book where the character who looked like me and was named with my name was cheating on him. He painted other pictures of me and put them in another comic book that was based on the spinoff of a very successful TV show about a vampire hunter. He took me to Niagara Falls. He took four years to pay me back the money we lost on the deposit for an apartment we didn’t end up living in together. He moved to LA and we broke up three months later because we stopped talking to each other.
In two weeks and one day. We’ve got secular readings and a good photographer and there will be macaroni and cheese. My dress fits and I bought a red lipstick and last week Kevin told me one line from his vows—just one line!—and I had to run to the bathroom to full-on sob. “You sound like a wounded…
I want to say I was probably sitting, sweltering, in the living room of Uncle George’s, eating rock soup, preparing for an impromptu dance party to Celine Dion with Katie and Corinne. Ah the good life.
Tonight a car full of dudes called me a whore and threw an empty bottle of motor oil at me because I said “Don’t say things like that” after they called my cab driver a “Dirty A-rab” when he stopped in the middle of the street because there was nowhere to pull aside.
I can say that I’ve lived here in honor and danger But I’m just an animal and cannot explain a life Down this chain of days I wished to stay among my people Relation now means nothing Having chosen so defined
And if death should smell my breathing As it passes beneath my window Let it lead me Trembling, trembling I own every bell that tolls for me
My underwear has no elastic, I haven’t bought groceries in a month, what are friends, there are piles of garbage and unpaid bills scattering the floor of my bedroom, I have new pains in my hip, I’m consuming more alcohol than vegetables, eight hours of sleep seems like a joke someone wrote once.
“There are two steps to becoming an adult: 1. Recognize your responsibilities toward yourself. 2. Recognize your responsibilities toward others. Poof, you are no longer a mouth that wants. Everything else is just decoration.”—
I am so excited and proud to finally be able to announce to you that my YA novel, VIVIAN VERSUS THE APOCALYPSE, has been named a winner of the Young Writers Prize and will be published by Hot Key Books in September of this year. Behold, the cover art!:
“Plus I read a women’s magazine article called “5 Fabulous Morning Rituals,” and it said that after you “bask in bed” and “walk in nature” you’re supposed to “ponder the sins of the conquistadors.”—Sarah Vowell, The Partly Cloudy Patriot (via okthenitsjess)