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Astro PSA: Venus Retrograde Rage

October 6, 2018 in Astro Matters, Essays, Feminist Matters, Spirit Matters, Style Matters

For two days I dreamed that I caught a man in the act of stealing my wallet, phone, and keys—my identity, essentially— and that he was arrested and forced to return my possessions. These were triumphant, and triumphantly bald, dreams. Last night I dreamed someone stole my wallet—a pleasing, lemony yellow—and replaced it with a neon-green fannypack, neon green being one of the few shades I will never, ever embrace though I do in fact own such a horror. (It’s handy.) In the second part of the dream, I found a pair of denim jeans that elegantly nipped in my waist and made my ass a buttercup dream. I laid them aside for a pair of 90-style mom jeans that made my ass an endlessly flat expanse of Midwestern mall terrain.

Which is to say that, yes, Venus finally went retrograde yesterday. I’ve been whining about its shadow since early September, but only now is the planet really moving backward.  Lasting unofficially until the end of the year (officially it goes direct November 16), the retrograde is taking place in Scorpio, which imparts lessons about old wounds and hidden meanings, and Libra, which is ruled by Venus and thus a hot mess when mommy takes a breather. Continue Reading →

Sadly Morning

September 26, 2018 in Cat Lady Matters, City Matters, Essays, Style Matters

The mornings are the hardest.

During the day I’m fine. I wear myself out with long walks and writing sessions and chats so that by the time I cook dinner and clean up, I can barely read a page before sleep claims me. I’m grateful for how quickly and heavily it rises up, darkness encircling me like a security blanket—

like a lover’s caress.

But I wake very early. At that hour, the city is stripped of bravado, and so am I. And in that unarmored state, the full weight of loss lands on my chest. Before I can assemble all the very valid reasons we’re no longer together, I miss him. His scratchy voice and soft mouth and enthusiastically punctuated texts; his sweet, sad eyes belying the shtick that’s made him a legend in certain circles. I miss the depth of our connection, the hope we could be happier and more whole as a result. Continue Reading →

Not Even Eloise Could Sell This Story

May 31, 2018 in Cat Lady Matters, City Matters, Country Matters, Style Matters

I woke in this garbage mood, like GARBAGE–this, despite the fact that I have extraordinarily loving friends, and (you may as well know) a lovely beau and (you already know) a lovely cat and a lovely home and a lovely neighborhood and even a lovely car. This, despite the fact that I working on a book I’ve wanted to write my whole life, despite the fact that I have an amazing space within walking distance in which to write it, despite the fact that I live next door to the friendliest most delicious most endearing coffee shop, despite the weather being about as perfect as New York weather gets, despite the fact that I am healthy and strong and dammit very much alive. I woke up feeling this way because (in increasing order) our country is truly in its end-days, exemplifying every theory Marx ever espoused about late-stage capitalism and also, not unrelatedly, because I am worried about cash and also, I am sorry to say, because my favorite Meg jumpsuit disappeared, and it was that rare garment that was both obscenely comfortable and sexy as hell and therefore irreplacable and of course magic. This is a Capricorn for you–eyes on the prize but always obsessed SIMPLY OBSESSED with her things. Sheeeit.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy