As I mentioned before I have in the past been afflicted with both Scarlet Fever and Pericarditis (infection in the lining of my heart), I was in a coma for four days at the age of three and have a balloon in my neck from a surgery to remove a cyst. I’ve also had shingles.
“It is always on my mind a little bit, being aware of who my readers are and also engaging in a conversation with them, because I really love to be in that conversation. That’s when it gets interesting for me, because I am an inherently lonely person. Anytime someone cares about my writing, even if it’s just a tweet, I feel a little less alone. It might be a sad thing to say although I don’t feel sad saying it.”
DiCaprio and Mulligan, meanwhile, don’t seem like star-crossed lovers so much as a delusional man in love with a bauble of a woman. Maybe that’s intentional?
I often get questions from new writers asking what it takes to become a successful writer. In their questions is the implicit suggestion that there is a an answer to this question, a formula that can be easily replicated. Other times, I’m asked how writers can get published in X, Y, or Z magazine,…
Word to the re-submit. I need to do more of that myself.
Last night, I attended a fundraiser for a local organization that promotes Fairness for LGBTQ people, people of color and other marginalized groups in Kentucky. I love their work and they’re very good at actually winning campaigns.
I was dressed fancy enough and looked pretty damn cute last…
The Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong will write new songs for Yale Repertory Theater’s production of “These Paper Bullets,” a rock ‘n’ roll updating of “Much Ado About Nothing” that will have its world premiere next March, the theater announced on Thursday.
We tried to be writers in Brooklyn. We hosted a reading series that was written-up in the places you’d want your little poetry reading series to be written-up, made hand-bound poetry chapbooks and a literary magazine with an excruciatingly DIY screen-printed cover. We were living the Brooklyn life: downing dirty martinis and whiskeys to close the bar at 4 a.m., sleeping until 1 the next day and nursing hangovers with greasy BLTs and omelets of pure gluttony, then off to another reading, another show, another museum opening, then Monday morning and the subway ride into Midtown, SoHo, Union Square (there were so many entry level jobs) not really making enough to pay rent.