Diary Sessions: Part 1


When I was last visiting my parents in April, I brought all my old diaries back with me and realized...they're kinda amazing. I was in such torment over everything. Now, I don't want to invalidate the feelings I had as a kid, because I went to a small school full of awful little children being awful to each other... Continue Reading →

A Few Fuck-Yous…


...Brought to you by international air and train travel. 1. Fuck you for wearing your skunk perfume on a plane (also on the train...I'm looking at you, passengers of renfe who showered in old man cologne). I'm glad you're making an effort to smell good but we're all hurtling through the sky in a coke... Continue Reading →

I Live in Mist


What is it about weather that inspires us to write? More specifically, why are we always moved by rain? I suppose rain symbolizes new beginnings as it cleans the streets and helps the crops and flowers grow. I think there's something more, some other reason that we like to write poems and songs and entire... Continue Reading →

Let Us Take a Trip Through Time


Let's go back -- far back (and I mean faaaar back, like a whole 4 years ago). Look into my crystal ball to see... Teenage Cappy: writer, high school student and Strokes fan extraordinaire. She had long blonde hair, bangs, and was just learning how to do a cat eye (oh, so young with so much... Continue Reading →

Happy Happy


I just wanted to sit down and write something in the middle of the night because…I’m happy. I’m happy because I’m warm in my bed and it’s absolutely frigid outside. I’m happy because I’m going home this weekend to visit my family and exist outside of this college town for a few days. I’m reading... Continue Reading →

Henrietta


I'd never liked antiquing before -- my mother half-dragging me around rooms full of musty nonsense that nobody wanted, my feet tired, my nose stinging a little from all that dust and "history." History in quotes, of course, because much of it seems to be weird plastic crap from the 1970s that got tossed out... Continue Reading →

Skin


Yesterday, my poetry professor asked if my "write" tattoo was part of the Skin project by Shelley Jackson from 2004. When I explained that I would've been 11 years old in 2004, so my tattoo didn't stem from that particular project, he explained it to me. I'm obsessed and in awe and shocked and in... Continue Reading →


Dear Friends, Well, 2013 sure did fly by -- like me, on my private jet, flying off to Morocco. I have, once again, had an amazing year that was probably much more exciting than yours. As you probably read in the tabloids, my new lover Mickey and I were swept up in a whirlwind romance... Continue Reading →

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