told a girl on the subway I loved the cropped sweater/shrug she was wearing and she was thrilled to tell me her mom made it and I hope she texts her mom immediately
June 8, 2025 at 2:58 PM
told a girl on the subway I loved the cropped sweater/shrug she was wearing and she was thrilled to tell me her mom made it and I hope she texts her mom immediately
"To me, writing is an act of listening. I listen, of course, to what I have already written. And then to something unknown, somewhere out there. The writing is this listening, to write is to listen. I don’t plan anything. Writing happens."
Pretty much every sentence in this Jon Fosse Q&A is gold.
(and is basically, just over and over, saying variations of "I don't know, I don't plan, I don't know what any of it means, I just listen and pay attention and write.")
"To me, writing is an act of listening. I listen, of course, to what I have already written. And then to something unknown, somewhere out there. The writing is this listening, to write is to listen. I don’t plan anything. Writing happens."
I don't know who needs to know this, but Pro Publica has an online thing that will format a letter to your US health insurance company to demand the records behind a claim denial. (which the insurance is then legally required to provide in most cases)
I don't know who needs to know this, but Pro Publica has an online thing that will format a letter to your US health insurance company to demand the records behind a claim denial. (which the insurance is then legally required to provide in most cases)
Writing is fine. It's literally the most embarrassing thing on earth to emotionally put yourself on full display for rejection or validation, but it's good. I enjoy it. I find it therapeutic to horrify myself.
December 2, 2024 at 3:30 PM
Writing is fine. It's literally the most embarrassing thing on earth to emotionally put yourself on full display for rejection or validation, but it's good. I enjoy it. I find it therapeutic to horrify myself.
“Now I know the truth: what matters is what you experience while reading, the states of feeling that the story evokes, the questions that rise to your mind, rather than the fictional events described. They should teach you this in school, but they don’t.” —Sigrid Nunez, THE VULNERABLES
November 29, 2024 at 8:30 PM
“Now I know the truth: what matters is what you experience while reading, the states of feeling that the story evokes, the questions that rise to your mind, rather than the fictional events described. They should teach you this in school, but they don’t.” —Sigrid Nunez, THE VULNERABLES
as a writer, it's amazing how deep and intimate my relationship with language is—and yet how difficult i find it to say things to, uh, people, anywhere
November 30, 2024 at 1:39 PM
as a writer, it's amazing how deep and intimate my relationship with language is—and yet how difficult i find it to say things to, uh, people, anywhere
my decades-long commitment to the messy clipped-up piecey bun/swoop bangs forever validated by the girl stepping off the train as I was getting on who shouted “your hair is so cute!” as the doors closed between us
November 22, 2024 at 6:21 PM
my decades-long commitment to the messy clipped-up piecey bun/swoop bangs forever validated by the girl stepping off the train as I was getting on who shouted “your hair is so cute!” as the doors closed between us
In the latest issue of @eldiagram.bsky.social :: an image/text lyric essay about living in New York, pigeons & my pet parakeet, and finding fluidity in structure.
In the latest issue of @eldiagram.bsky.social :: an image/text lyric essay about living in New York, pigeons & my pet parakeet, and finding fluidity in structure.
love that I’ll write full paragraphs while at work or riding the subway, scattered between notes app/notebook/emails to myself/the end pages of the book I’m reading and forget them there for months until I finally think to myself “didn’t I write a scene of this happening?” and have to go on a quest
October 7, 2023 at 3:49 PM
love that I’ll write full paragraphs while at work or riding the subway, scattered between notes app/notebook/emails to myself/the end pages of the book I’m reading and forget them there for months until I finally think to myself “didn’t I write a scene of this happening?” and have to go on a quest