One night after work you squeeze into crowded Rizzoli to hear two illustrators talk about their favorite page turns in children's books. They talk about how children shout out things as you're reading to them. How, as a writer you're chasing that, you want
Last week, Ebru and Daniel, our wonderful friends, had a party, they often have parties, wonderful ones, but now they are moving to Berlin for the foreseeable, so this was the last party. The people who are moving into the apartment next, they were at the party, too, which never
civil twilight
This week you're a water tower, the kind you see outside New York, with the city or town name across the bulbous white head, except your head is filled with snot that will not drain. Fire and ice. You're burning up in a sweatshirt and wool
Let the chair do the work.
Exciting pub news.
The taffy quality of a Zyrtec sleep. Just because you take a 24-hour Zyrtec twice a day, per your doctor, because peak pollen, doesn't mean you have 48 hours to your name. You have, at best, four to six hours, thirsty hours, during which you open bottle
A letter every Sunday at sunset • If you're always looking, after some time you'll have seen
"Am I a woman now?
What is it about Manhattan?
"I love you so much, but go away."
An excerpt from my essay in SEARCH WORK.
She was waiting for the cat to go to sleep so she could start something, or she was waiting for the cat to wake up any minute now, so she didn't start anything. * The little jars of jam he’d brought back from all over the world, none
I'm back in "the real world" as of Tuesday night.
More of a postcard than a letter this week
It took two weeks to make the studio mine
"Child, where do you traipse about in the night?"
Sunset in Amherst, VA, today is twenty-four minutes later than in Bloomfield, NJ.
Haircut panic.