Well, now that six months have passed, I feel like I should really get back on track. Just like these kids here.

Well, now that six months have passed, I feel like I should really get back on track. Just like these kids here.

This is my favorite part of Bridesmaids because it so concretely represents my life as a freelancer.

This is my favorite part of Bridesmaids because it so concretely represents my life as a freelancer.

Maria Popova uncovered this lost treasure, I’ll Be You and You Be Me. It’s a collaboration between Ruth Krauss and Maurice Sendak, and the excerpts she posted make my heart soar. This one, in particular, reminds me of a Yumi Sakugawa comic I adore, "I Think I Am In Friend-Love With You."

Maria Popova uncovered this lost treasureI’ll Be You and You Be Me. It’s a collaboration between Ruth Krauss and Maurice Sendak, and the excerpts she posted make my heart soar. This one, in particular, reminds me of a Yumi Sakugawa comic I adore, "I Think I Am In Friend-Love With You."

Look, I’m not trying to turn something wholesome into anything but, however…I feel like this short of Black Francis (yes, from The Pixies) reading J. Otto Seibold’s new children’s book, Lost Sloth, is as much for stoned and/or tripping adults as it is for kids.

By the way, I totally bought my little cousin this book for his birthday. I do hope someone reads it to him with as much enthusiasm as Black Francis!

Something I don’t tell in the book: I was very heavily on amphetamines in my first three months in New York. But I looked into the mirror in the middle of being stoned and was promptly sobered by seeing that I’d lost about a hundred pounds. Seeing, as it were, the skull under my skin. And I said to myself: Oliver, you will not see another new year unless there’s intervention. So then I certainly realized how frightening it was. With the morphine, especially, I was really asking for trouble.
Oliver Sacks is the star of the new installment of “The Big Idea” over at The Rumpus today. Need I say more? (Oliver Sacks, you guys!)

Our bodies are intractable, inescapable realities, and so little about them has to do with choice. I cannot choose whether to be hungry or thirsty, healthy or sick. A slave cannot choose to be free, a woman cannot choose to be equal, and no one on earth can choose to be safe from the violations others inflict on their bodies.

Because choice is hemmed in by a thousand restraints, the language of choice that dominates the abortion rights movement can be misleading. The word ‘choice,’ in fact, is closely associated in its earliest uses with matters of preference and taste—a choice wine, for example—matters we do not associate with our access to medical care. Its Old English root cyre means ‘free will.’ To say ‘I have the choice’ means ‘I have options’; choice is, inherently, the power of choice, the freedom of choice.

I finally read this, and I cried. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you know someone’s done something right.

I’m so proud to be part of an online family that publishes essays like this one, and even more proud to be part of a greater family—a family of women and men and people who believe in identities beyond the gender binary, one that advocates for “choice,” one that understands what the word actually means. One that cherishes it, and fights for it, every day, without fail. 

We didn’t always travel by limo. If he anticipated bad traffic, on a long weekend perhaps, he chartered a private plane. Then we became superwomen, able to jump social strata in a single bound! My mother would drive us to the Marine Air Terminal at La Guardia in her beat-up Cutlass while doing her mascara in the rearview and smoking a cigarette. Sashaying out onto the tarmac — now doing our best impression of anyone with an upbringing different from ours — we would meet my mother’s boyfriend, who walked ahead in great strides, carrying our bags headlong into the wind, his tie, her perm and our backpack straps sailing backward as we went.
My pal Tara Clancy has an excellent personal essay, about straddling the class divide, in The New York Times Magazine this week. I am seriously anticipating the day her memoir hits shelves—particularly mine. You can watch her perform a version of this story at The Moth here.
The more difficult question for me is, do you remain successful for what you had done? I don’t know. I think success is in your own eyes. But, I don’t really want to ever feel like I’ve achieved success. Because then I’d be spoiled. I want to feel like I need to keep doing more. Maybe I get ‘content,’ ‘settled,’ and ‘success’ confused. I never want to settle, but I would love to be content.
Derek Waters, the man responsible for Drunk Historypossibly one of the greatest web series ever made and now, rightfully, a show on Comedy Central—spoke to The Rumpus today. I am pretty damn psyched about this. He talks about his comedic roots, the future of media, and hand-picking video selections for Sylvester Stallone. I am not making that last part up. Go read this shit now!
annfriedman:

‘merica.

Fuck yeah.

annfriedman:

‘merica.

Fuck yeah.

Read. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

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