So, I moved. I left New York. You might have realized from Georgette’s super nice goodbye post, or you may not have, because you don’t really care about my life. Totally understandable.
This is me and a friend on moving day. We like wearing white shirts that much our teethy smiles.
I was going to write a “goodbye to new york” post, about staying and leaving, tall buildings, good friends, bad winters, etc. I tried, I really did. But I just can’t do it. Maybe I’m not ready to say goodbye to New York, but mostly, I think I’m not ready to say goodbye to anywhere. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. (Even after college! Weren’t they supposed to teach me that? Shall I sue?) Continue reading →
Welcome to my stream-of-consciousness-rant-list-ponderance. I can’t think in clear, complete sentences because my brain has been ruined by, you guessed it, one too many episodes of American Horror Story. Here are some thoughts on Netflix.
One, it’s an intriguing culturalish thing. Everybody loves TV and now, all the sudden kind of, it has been released upon us in the easiest form yet. Hit the button get the zoned-out TV feeling. We’re all doomed. Continue reading →
Things are being said about heft. About weight, feel, smell, texture. There’s a nostalgia in licking a finger to turn the page. About the flutter of pages in a soft breeze on a summer afternoon. Lovely. These things are nice. But they don’t have anything to do with reading. They’re lovely, they’re wonderful to reminisce over, but they’re about to become a thing of the past. Continue reading →
Partly because I’m lazy, partly because it’s fun, and partly because I’m a product of my generation and don’t read as much as I should, I’m writing about my reading of On The Road by jack Kerouac in stages. A couple of weeks ago I wrote about my pre-Road trepidations, and now, since I’m impatient and probably should be done by now anyway. I’m going to start reviewing it before I’m done reading it.
I’m not going to give it any pennies yet, because even I would agree that’s a little premature. (Usually, during Poor Writers Reviews, we award things pennies. I will do that later. After I finish the book and this carton of ice cream.)
Since I’m talking about a very important, historical piece of literature that I’m only about halfway through reading, I’m going to go about this in a very stream of consciousness type way. These are my thoughts/questions/revelations/ideas that are going through my brain as I read On The Road. Here goes: Continue reading →
Every semester after finals are over, I go to the library. I know it should be the other way around. But one of the things I’m most excited for about summer is the ability to read whatever I want. To read without anyone telling me who or what is important. Without underlining or deconstructing. I can take recommendations or go off the title, or, if I’m feeling particularly rebellious, I’ll just grab something with a beautiful cover. Continue reading →
I can see it. The enemy. The thing that tells you that you are nothing, and you never will be. At least, not until you vanquish it. I can see it right now, waiting for me.
The blank page.
It’s not easy to overcome. There is something about it, particularly if you have dreams of becoming a writer, that looks into your very soul. That looks into your brain and finds nothing worthy of tarnishing that beautiful, harrowing white landscape. Just like the day after a snowstorm. I could bundle up, go outside, and leave some tracks, but there is something beautiful in the emptiness. Plus, it’s cold out there. I think I’ll just Continue reading →
Every now and then a feeling of absolute dread comes over me. I start with the I’m never getting a real job, never ever going to buy lovely Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress, and always going to cry myself to sleep with my yellow lab Clyde licking tears from my face. It’s an inevitable feeling. One hellbent on crushing my soul and driving me towards Hershey’s Symphony bars, but then I figure “If this isn’t the perfect time to be a poor writer, when else would be?” When else would be? If you’re young, broke, and full of the postgraduate mopes, this is an excellent time to throw yourself into your work and make things happen. Inventiveness isn’t a thing of the past, but the way of the future.