Browsing tag: writing

the brief wondrous


Junot Diaz made me cry. Twice. Not his writing . Because, I’ve gotta be honest. I haven’t read any of it yet. (Not yet.) But his voice. I have absolutely zero in common with the man. Our backgrounds are not at all similar. Our lives, current, even less so. But hearing him speak really lit

le sigh*


I love these houses. They’re on the beach, next to where we stay, and I take tons of photos whenever we’re there. I want to live in the green one and write on the widows walk in the early a.m. I want to pull my hair up, slap on some factor fifty and drink something-fruity

the gravedigger’s daughter.


Joyce Carol Oates I’ve got a story about me and The Gravedigger’s Daughter. And a video, somewhere, of me telling it to her…to Joyce Carol Oates. She probably forgot about it as soon as I told it but it was a wow moment, in the moment. You could see it on her face.

the falls. the falls. the falls.


Something that’s neither here nor there but comes to mind because it comes to mind. Whenever I think of Joyce Carol Oates I always have this image of her running through Hyde Park. Long and lean and listening. Alone, with her internal self. What conversations they must have. I’ve just finished reading The Falls. And

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