Christmas. Merry. Happy. Joy. Stress. Angst. Guilt. That hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach. Ah, the holidays. Continue reading
I am delirious (not kidding) to announce that one of my dreams has come true—I have been interviewed! By one of my fave peeps on the Main Line—yoga teacher, prolific spiritual tweeter, Hindu mythology expert and podcaster extraordinaire, Sitaram Das who I know as Daniel Shankin. We discuss weighty matters like Paleo, the hero’s journey, the creative spirit and heroically dealing with eleven rejections on my current novel. Listen to it here.
I used to blog about Daniel back in the yoga day. I love what Daniel brings to the mat, namely sardonic wit, a self-deprecating sense of his own humanity and humor, and an encyclopedic knowledge of myth. He mentions these blog posts during the podcast so here they are. How convenient! I’m not going to say anymore. Okay just one more thing. Daniel has a pretty cat named Little Sweetie.
Waiting for Bryan to return from Brooklyn where he played a block party gig in Park Slope, which is a universe and two hours away and also I might need a time machine to get there. A dream, my former Brooklyn life is beginning to feel like. Crumbly edges like a tall slice of wedding cake that sat too long untouched, unloved while its steel-forked guardian danced her ass off to that Usher song.
I realized today that I can be quite an anti-social creature. Sometimes it takes me a few decades to figure stuff out. This anti-socialness is heightened by the fact that I no longer drink, party or eat baked goods. Or maybe it’s certain moments—those Friday dead battery days when I’ve exerted all I can during the week—cooking, schlepping and supervising, and the wind whips and the temperature drops and all I want to do is huddle in bed with my laptop glowing, entertaining me InstantPlay style, distracting me from the things that overwhelm—things like money, career, book deals, children, marriage and shelter dogs.
It dawned on me this morning that in bashing romantic comedies during my previous post, I wasn’t specific enough. Because, like, I wrote a romantic comedy and I don’t want to denigrate my own work, even if I’m not exactly drawn to the genre so much these days.
Star Craving Mad was published way before I became the obsessed, admittedly rigid and oft humorless Primal mother you’ve come to know and maybe resent.