The nutmeg is key. It is essential. How did Husband #1, who certainly liked to eat Béchamel (I left the accent off last week, pardonnez-moi), not know this? Should’ve put him out of the running. Should’ve been a sign. But Husband #1 once sent me a...
I’m not prejudiced against marriage. I’m not even prejudiced against married people, some of my best friends are married. Marriage, however, is definitely not for me. I’ve tried it twice, and I don’t care if the third time is the charm, because I am Not. Going. There....
She had died in this room. In that bed. Nigel kissing her eyelids, gently licking her tears. The remembered sensation—she had wept while she died—a sudden, sharp echo passing through her. The echo stirred the pain around. Far worse than physical pain, which had a...
“I know where they keep their porn.” Bad Love Incarnate—the unconventionally handsome Brit with the gap-toothed smile and a camera slung around his neck, the one from the Alhambra—said that. In the foyer of a house we were somehow standing in, at the top of a winding...
So yes, him. The one who liked to wear my underwear—one of you dear readers wanted to hear more. Actually, there was more than one. Three of ‘em, by my count, that liked to dig around in my closet and play dress-up. There was the ethereal, sylph-y grad student in...
So. The unconventionally handsome tanned guy with gap-toothed smile, British accent, and a camera slung around his neck? The one following twenty-nine-year-old me around a nocturnal Alhambra ablaze with oil lamps and candles (and champagne)? Turned out he liked to...
I know. You are here because you want to know what happened that night in the East Village bar when Kurt-not-Kurt (as in, Cobain—a dead-ringer lookalike, for those among you late to this little party) stuck his hand up my skirt and I dumped my date to leave the bar...
“Knowing when you’re going to die. How cool is that?” Not from The Immortalists (haven’t cracked it; the bigger the hype, the longer I wait to read). No, that line is from someone best described as existing on the periphery of my life. But I spent a good part of the...
She’ll get you hot and then stand you up. She’ll empty your soul and your wallet, and then kick you for having nothing left to give. She will turn you against your friends, make you lie to them and say you’re busy so you can spend every single minute of every single...
Some more Bad, Bad Love this week…with Valentine’s still in the air, no less. It might have been him. Really, truly, might have been him. It was the 90s. Chronologically, maybe even geographically, it was within the realm of possibility. It wasn’t. I knew that....
If you want to hear about My Life with Rabbits, what I eat when I travel (no one wants to hear about what I eat at home–boring, boring, kale, broccoli, boring, boring, whole wheat pasta, blueberries, salad, boring, thank God for wine), or watch me try to reconstruct a novel last seen hanging out on a floppy disk twenty years ago, then this is the blog for you! Sign up and don’t miss a thing!
