Not to brag, but I’m getting SO much writing done!

Image above stolen from the desk of the amazing Austin Kleon.

HA!  Hello lovelies,

Greetings from The Overlook where I am in a white-heat manic frenzy and positively useless as a human. It’s not hyperbole. Friends came to visit from France, and I’ll admit it; I was the worst hostess ever. Domestic badasses like Martha Stewart, Ina and Snoop would excommunicate me tout de suite. I used to really, really  be able to cook, but all I can think about right now is the book, which is due molto pronto. I can’t do drugs because of my spazzy brain, but damn if I don’t start twitching like a meth mom every time I think about all the egregious typos in my manuscript. I’ve even started to resemble Karl Ove Knausgaard. Seriously,  I am his less-cute doppelgängster:

karloveknausgaard

Plus, my skin is scaling away like that old corpse broad from The Shining. I’ll spare you the graphic bathroom visual from Kubrick’s stunning masterpiece. Suffice it to say, I’m trying to hydrate more.

Maybe it’s just aging, but I feel like my whole body is at war with itself. Where it’s like, “Yo’ lady! I need to see some ID!” and there’s me having left my driver’s license in my other purse. It’s almost a case of self not recognizing self, but I can’t figure out if it qualifies as an existential crisis or an auto-immune disorder? I think both are still covered under the #ACA.

On the bright side, the book is making me heaps skinnier. It’s a kind of terror-burp dyspepsia that gives you zero appetite as you are literally eating your own words. To cope, I’ve started harboring lush escapist fantasies and conducting wildly aggressive real estate searches for places like these:

front hall

It’s a farmhouse in Gers, France where there is health care and people still take naps. I also love this particular region because everywhere you look, there’s food like this:

19GASCONY5A-superJumbo

Quack, quack went the duck. I have so much to tell you, from the different women’s marches to old AF parades to all-new New York weirdos, I just have to write like a mothertrucker this week.

Who was it who said, besides sex and wine… you are my favorite procrastination?

Stay rad – xoxo – gg

 

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