Catching Up

A flurry of things:

Dennis Cooper spotlighted me.  Sidebar: Man, I love Dennis.  I fell in love with his writing and when I met him, I fell in love with him.  Such a nice person.  His voice. His gentle demeanor.  He’s one of the best people, you guys.  He keeps unfolding and I follow.

I was interviewed for NERVE and for THE SPARK an Alternating Current Press Blog. Two separate interviews.  I am a ‘goddess’ and I am ‘mysterious’ and “irreverent”.  I know I am at least one of those things.

I “wrote” a thing about Porn videos over at Dark Fucking Wizard.

My new book, “Today I Am A Book” got a nice review at theSmall Press Book Review.  Thank you sweet Mel and Taylor.

I'm also part of a "feministh anthology" called "Choose Wisely: 35 Women Up to No Good" and it has Joyce Carol Oates, Aimee Bender, Amelia Gray, Linsdey Hunter and a bunch of other awesomes.

Life has been uninteresting as much as it has been interesting.  I am in a space between mirrors, but BEHIND them.  It’s a corridor.  There’s filth.  On the other side everyone is going about their lives, looking at themselves in the mirrors.  I can’t see through the mirrors.  But I know they are mirrors and I know people are looking into them.  I’m just in a weird corridor.  In a place where nobody can see me.  It smells old and musty and secret.  It goes on forever.  No. It doesn’t.  But it seems like it.  It’s really warm here, too.  I’m walking and sweating.  Anyway.  I’m just living my life in this weird hallway thing.  You guys keep on doing whatever you do in the mirrors.

AWP is coming up and I’m too fat for it. Oh well. I’m also not looking forward to social anxiety.  I’m doing a couple of readings I won’t advertise on my blog.  I don’t want anyone to go to them.  You know how I am.

My novel is in suspended animation.  Hopefully it will be unsuspended shortly.

I haven’t talked to my dad in a few months.  I think he might be in Lake Havesu. However you spell it.  Well, not IN the lake, but at the lake. I don’t know. Hey dad, WHERE ARE YOU?! 

My mom is future me.  She’s going to be crippled soon, fyi. She will need an operation and a wheelchair.  She’s convinced and she tells me all about it.  I try not to wince and cry.  She is down at the bottom of the mountain I have begun rolling down.

I have been into stairs lately.  A couple of different sets of ‘intense’ stairs.  I like walking up and down them while I listen to a “workout” playlist and sweat.  It feels pure. 

My ass is gigantic.  How can one ass be so gigantic?

If I meet you at AWP please pretend im not horrifying. Pretend I look normal and of normal body proportions.  Try not to recoil.  Buy me a drink so I feel better about our interaction.  Try to kiss me. Or tell me about the fantasies you had about me before you met me right now and are suddenly sick to your stomach and flaccid.  Lie to me about how much you liked my books.  Or just hug me and whisper, There, there. It will all be okay.  Your ass is average-sized, really.  Shhh….


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