from another job, which, in the past few months, has made me increasingly unhappy and isolated. i don’t have much to say at the moment, other than i’m still recovering from a curt response to my resignation and a glare for me to exit out of office, quickly, back to my cubicle hole. no thank […]

the weekend was nothing short of spectacular. the nomad girl has placed her anchor gently under the bed. little pebbles in the closet, stones and bricks in the cabinetry. i had my first weekend guest, my dear pal and stylist, j. to toast her possible move back to new york from the country […]

some truly delish and brainy gals have kindly invited me to take part in more!
*3/21 Grace Reading Series at Mo Pitkins
(31 Ave A between East 2nd and 3rd Streets), with the lovely Karen Schoemer. I’ll be reading a portion from my forthcoming memoir. The evening will be hosted by the affable, Elizabeth Merrick: wunderkind and […]

what i remember: chinese arias on sunday mornings, the godfather theme song strung on guitar, on repeat, for drunk tourists with expensive digital cameras, three floors below. i lived above a restaurant then, shared a one-bedroom apartment with an actor who slept in the living room, who ghosted, who wove in and out, cooked […]

that summer i remember inching down the hallway, feet planted on the stairs, waiting for the click. sometimes i’d wait one, two, hours, and then it would be that familiar sound. the bag slung over a shoulder, a whooping cough, a cigarette negotiated between fat lips, the fumbling of keys, the slick chink of metal, […]

let it be known that i am not an artist. i can’t translate the beautiful ideas - luminous color and white-capped waves - in my head to canvas. i can’t transform brushstrokes to something so wholly awe-inspiring, it’s practically mythic. i can’t even draw a straight line. i’ve tried collage, painting, even pottery, and […]

So I’m reading a little story, a little homewrecking - a tale of a tour bus driver in san francisco, burned by her husband’s leaving, forced to take care of his daughter, all the while smiling into the microphone while negotiating a tour bus. This means I will be leaving my house (i’m ignoring the […]

my vgf, S, tells me that i need to be risky. and since every saturday has become sort of a routine (muffin from the GOOD muffin place, yoga, and a long day lounging with books and spoiling little Sophie), i decide to be very un-me and go against the saturday plan. i read some reviews […]

i woke this morning in a terrible mood. my very last blueberry muffin had gone off, little sophie knocked the remainder of my muffin out of my hands and proceeded to feast on it ALL OVER MY RUG (but this is okay, by no means a reason to admonish the kitty), i almost fell down […]

i first encountered kate braverman in a chelsea barnes and noble. she was sandwiched in between a hoard of awful and tawdry novels, and something about this particular title caught my eye. It was her debut novel, Lithium for Medea. I ignored it at first and went about the store, picking up and […]

amazing how something so simple, so small, can make you smile all the way into the morning…

last week was one of those kind of weeks where you want to staple things to people’s heads or scream without the fear of being committed (although the jackets i hear are quite lovely). i lamented why people couldn’t just walk to the damn right, would just wait until everyone exits the train before plowing […]

it’s tuesday and already there’s madness. a week of meetings, suit-wearing, hair pressing and smiling on cue. too cluttered at the moment to think clearly, so i’m reading instead. i’ll be back when the idea of stringing words together doesn’t send me screaming for the xanax. and i’m starting to think that there are divisions […]