Any Fiction Can Be Written By Anyone
Who has a right to tell what pretend stories? The answer is simple: Anyone who doesn’t suck at writing.
Cummins’ American Dirt doesn’t take the story of immigrants away from actual immigrants. They have their stories. They should tell them. And here’s where the rub is: they must have the platform to tell those stories. That is, publishers ought to be looking for diverse voices. Not simply to fill a skin color or gender quota, but because diversity is a great thing for creativity. I don’t know what the publishing industry is like for a person of color. I do know that I’ve come across a lot of agents and publishers who are looking specifically for women and people of color, which rules me out. Which is why I think the diversity should be about the stories. What’s good? What’s got a new approach to a familiar tale? Perhaps that comes from fewer white men. Sure, I don’t care. That just makes me have to work harder to be better. Feels like a good challenge to have.
The Minutes of Our Last Meeting - Trump's Perfect Call to the CDC
I just wanted to tell you that I am doing a terrific job.
Suicides and Saxophones
I went to junior high with this kid Ben Jameson*. We played saxophone together. He was always one chair ahead of me. I liked Ben. We goofed off together. He had great hair. His mom was hot, just like mine.
Trip Report Day 14: Florida, Missouri
I Believe… [Thanks, Harvey!]
…that all of the Oscar winners who effusively thanked Harvey Weinstein publicly for his contribution to their success will unlikely be visiting him prison. Wonder what they’ll do with the statues?
At The House of the Convalescent Muses
We take our meals in the greenhouse at the long bench. Tonight marks the end of a lot of work and we are very happy to have a ceiling of stars. The high curved windows are tinted with a twinge of blue and all stars light filtering down twinkle a precious indigo. High and bright lights accompany the food, which has come with beer, and is greasy. We must be growing firmer if the fare is like this.
The Dynamic Race of Double Standards
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of February 23, 2020
Purity is a fallacy.
Trip Report | Day 13: Topeka, Kansas
The connections at Shawnee Lake County Campground are oddly placed, so we had to nose in for electric and still couldn’t reach the water. Because of this, our front door faced another front door, which is strange when you’re RVing. Most front doors are on the passenger side, which gives everyone a little more privacy.
The Ultimate Act of Self Care Isn’t Contained in a Carton of Almond Milk or a Yoga Mat
The ultimate act of self care is to give the opinions of others far less weight.
The Minutes of Our Last Meeting | The Official White House Response to the Caronavirus
We should also take all those cancer-causing windmills along the coasts and borders and point them out toward the oceans.
The Case Against Counting on Revolution
Feeling the Bern won’t be enough, kids.
Trip Report | Day 12: Greensburg, Kansas
“Are you into green?” asked the lady working the museum store at the home of the largest hand-dug well in the world. Completed in 1888, the well was Greensburg’s biggest claim to fame until an EF5 tornado killed twelve people and wiped out almost all the buildings in 2007.
I Believe… [Disneyland is What We All Need for a Moment]
I believe… that all it takes to shake off the calcified crust of living in a world of horrors is a day at Disneyland and a belief that despite our flaws there can and should be joy.
Three Months in One Letter
I’ll never see you again, though. The creamy clouds hang over the mountains and I wonder if you are there. Far away from here. From Eddie the bird and Chow the cat and the ranch-style house in a neighborhood not far at all from mine.
crazy trails to you
The Power and Destruction of the Performative Dance of Trauma
In a bizarre perversion of the Orwell doublespeak, we embrace the idea that Weakness = Strength.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of February 17, 2020
I’m in Waco for work today. And you know what they say: “When in Waco, do as the Branch Davidians do.” So I’ll be making a stop at the Silos to have a cupcake and buy a candle. The candle will then be used to burn down a compound.
Trip Report | Day 11: Dodge City, Kansas
There’s a huge grain processing plant that hums like a well-tuned diesel truck someone forgot to turn off. You get used to it and then hear it like new again, over and over during your stay in Dodge City, which is in the midst of a revitalization initiative. There’s a petting zoo and a dog park right next to the new KOA campsite.
The Minutes of Our Last Meeting | Trump's Legion of Doom
Lex – Almost only counts in horseshoes and massive flu virus outbreaks.
Jake and Caroline’s first date was at The Whistler. They talked about Ronnie, how much they loved The Diplomat, and debated the better ride-share service, Uber or Lyft. She was Uber, he was Lyft. They got wasted on Sazeracs and had sex at her apartment. It was incredible for both of them. Caroline stopped taking sex advice from Ronnie.