In honor of democracy that won’t go down without a fight, I made up a delicious recipe that I call “Warren Will Beet Their Asses”: Continue reading
Lo these yon two years I’ve mediated on a moment in S1 of The End of the F***ing World: After cleaver-tongue Alyssa catches eyes-as-deep-as-he’s-tall James getting molested in a diner bathroom, she asks him, “When something bad happens to you, you don’t need to let it. Did something bad happen to you when you were small?”
This fictional high schooler voiced so concisely what I labored 2 score years to therapy into my own head.
So imagine my teary delight when, recently Netflixxing off an overindulgent happy hour, I was able to stream straight to the end of the f***ing second season.
Celebrate our beautiful, troubled world with this lovely conversation between pioneers Lizzo and Janelle Monáe.
I didn’t feel like I had all the time in the world to write Dirty Computer. When you think about the state of this country, when you think about who’s in office, when you think about having a Vice President who believes in conversion therapy, and you think about how 77 percent of LGBTQ teenagers surveyed in 2018 report feeling depressed or down over the past week — I didn’t think that this album could wait.
I read from the Trevor Project that suicide is the second leading cause of death among young people aged 10 to 24. And that LGB youth contemplate suicide at at least three times the rate of a heterosexual youth. When you think about our trans brothers and sisters, our trans sisters being murdered, and when you just look at the state of the world, and when I’m working on an album like Dirty Computer that is centered around uplifting marginalized groups and those who feel isolated and outcast from our society, this album couldn’t wait.
Mary Karr* is the only writer I’m reading lately whose sentences are so good that I stop reading to write them down. These are from Cherry, her memoir of school years, which perhaps if you’ve never read Mary Karr you may think a dull premise for a memoir. Like, in third grade I loved Garbage Pail Kids but my mom wouldn’t buy them because they seemed to reject classical Western/religious principles of personal/godly dignity and ennoblement (Hi Mom!), now buy my life story!
But Mary Karr’s alchemic pen spins sand to gold and writes a memoir backwards and in heels:
We need both quantitative and qualitative subtlety about the opioid epidemic. Dr. Marcia Angell brings both in this review of a cluster of related books. Since you’re busy trussing a sheep or stuffing a souffle I’ll executive summarize it:
If you’re looking for some light holiday reading, prose that reminds you of the season’s glitter, flip through Angell’s writing on medical approaches to addiction.
Peace and love to all.
Here are some books I’ve lately enjoyed, boiled down to concentrated truisms useful for holiday table talk, you’re welcome.
Octavia Butler: Young black women should rebuild our communities.
Wild Seed: The real fantasy here is that a woman can make herself wonderful/beautiful/powerful/loveable enough to ensure the dude won’t kill her or those she loves.
Fledgling: White supremacy is as timeless as a vampire’s ability to survive it.
Colson Whitehead: White capitalist supremacy has poisoned our land.
Zone One: Our consumption-fueled society undeads us, undeads everyone, transforms our sense of time, suffocates relationships, spreads gore and death, and FILLS NEW YORK WITH ZOOOOOOOMMMMMBIIIIEEEEEEEEES.
The Underground Railroad: Black communities engineer their own survival, and our country’s truest beauty, wrested from this desperation, steams along out of sight; bonus Holocaust reference reminds us of the universality of racial domination.
Claire Messud: Women’s primary relationships are with other women.
When the World Was Steady: Middle-aged sisters can take their mom’s advice, flirt with criminals, abandon their religion, repress their lust for women, fight and reconcile, and do any other damn thing a teenager can do thank you.
The Burning Girl: Class determines the life choices available to you, sure, and women’s lives are forever obscured by our fabrications about them, yes, but no way can a high school junior write like that narrator.