“I don’t mean to be a liar, I was just put on the spot. I was trying to politely communicate that I’m not interested in any, um, extracurricular activities. That’s why when you asked me whether I hang out, I said, ‘No.’ I mean, what else was there to say? I lied again when you […]
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Links I Like
This post about what it means to show one’s work was interesting. Sometimes, it’s frustrating when you produce something and people respond as if magic happened, but lots of people can’t imagine what they can’t see. What happens if you show the crappy bits? I don’t know why I clicked on something that promised to… Continue reading Links I Like
In an open letter to the term, “turn you out” and any of its derivative or related terms,
“There is something about you that I’ve always found disorienting. Also, on a mechanical level, you never sounded like a good idea.”
In an open letter a young man about ten years my junior,
“I couldn’t hear all of the things that you said under your breath in order for me to hear them. I missed the first word, but the next few were, ‘… and thick, and pretty, and cute.’ I laughed, because I couldn’t help it. You have braces. You may have mistaken the laugh for a […]
In an open letter to last year’s harsh weather,
“Could it be that you’ve made me hardier? I now look at the forecast and think, ‘Nineteen degrees? Totally doable.’”
In an open letter to the woman who is saving a seat, whoops, I mean two seats in the restaurant,
“You don’t get to keep looking at me when your seat saving means that my son and I are standing. Well, not without me thinking disparaging thoughts about your appearance. I, however, do get to keep looking at you and the two empty seats next to you. I get to think, ‘you look like the […]
In an open letter to the Timehop Abe app,
“Thanks for pointing out just how much I use social media as a diary. The upside, though, is that everything is a little polished, and therefore not very cringeworthy. Thank you, also, for that.”
In an open letter to trivial, unimportant pleasures,
“I love you. I love you. I love you.”
In an open letter to the panties that tried to ruin my day,
“It’s a good thing that I took a look at the sweater I grabbed as I walked out the door before I put it on. At work. In front of someone. Please don’t ever hitch a ride via static cling again.”
In an open letter to John Boehner,
“I mean this in the least erotic way possible, but sometimes I wonder what your face skin feels like beneath tentative fingertips. Then I want to eat some circus peanuts. I don’t even like circus peanuts….”