You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July 2011.
1. You know you want to.
2. I will thank you by name when I win some grand award.
3. You can claim me on your taxes. 4. I’m begging you.
5. I will bring joy to your life via misery.
6. I’ve got vet bills to pay.
7. I can finally regain self-respect by not having to shamelessly promote myself. (Did you know I’ve been called “Plath on Prozac”? I’m not sure if the Prozac has helped but I haven’t put my head in an oven yet.)
8. I don’t want to have to put my head in an oven.
9. My publisher will give you 20% off and a bag of gold (free!!).
10. My luminous hair will love you.
I only wear glasses when there’s nothing else to do
Images become crisp
The fine print and the fine lines revealed
I prefer soft edges
Not seeing what I already know
My first book, SOB, is coming out Aug 16 and I’ve had to put my glesses to edit my life (afterall, my writing is my life in all the gory, misplaced, and obsurd detail). Putting this book together has been an execise in self-voodoo. And you know how much I like to needle myself. It’s been practice for allowing my fatal flaws to shine while simultaneously absorbing what bleak light I have left.
Reliving so many experiences both exhilerating and disturbing and letting you in on it is totally twisted. All of which is to say, buy my damn book. Be my voyeurs.
Let’s SOB it out together.