Well, well, well… Look at you!

I can’t believe I got to DO this! I recently sat down with comedian Jessimae Peluso host of the infamous Sharp Tongue podcast, episode #150… A tiny caveat that shouldn’t dissuade you from listening… this podcast contains salty language, so just please make sure to put your headphones on at work. We talked about everything from epilepsy to anxiety to Greta Gerwig. I even yodeled for this woman (c’mon, who wouldn’t?) all in support of epilepsy and my silly book GOTHAM GIRL, INTERRUPTED which, to be honest, is a little Lenny Bruce Meets Epilepsy. That said, were there ever to be a TV series based on my silly book, I’d want this lady in the writers’ room because she is wicked funny.

Thanks again to Jessimae and to her sponsor Hakuna Supply. – XOXO – Gotham Girl

The Lobster…

FADE IN: Open tight on a digital alarm clock blinking from 2:47 AM to 2:48. The Such-and-Such Executive Inn.

Off-screen, we hear the frantic sound of blankets rustling. A forty-something-year-old woman is yelping and batting at an unseen foe. Next, we hear the clatter of an old-school telephone handset being dropped and hastily retrieved for dialing.

“Front Desk. Good Morning, Ms. Jones,” comes the overly-chipper voice of a guy who has just surely spilled his bong water.

“There’s a lobster in the bed!” I whisper-shout.

“Ma’am, this is Sacramento, we don’t have—”

“Listen to me, there’s AN INSECT the size of a lobster crawling across my bed!”

(Audible gasp) “Yikes. Do you want me to send security?”

(More audible gasping) “Is that what you usually do?”

“And assign you a new room?”

“Good God, moving rooms at 3 AM? I’m going to need pants,” I say to no one in particular.

I’d been SO ready for pristine white sheets and SLEEP that night.

The book tour had me feeling like a greedy publicity hussy (instead of just a regular hussy). It’s a ramshackle itinerary—the kind where you airplane glue a signing together with a conference Q&A, a TV thing, and a dozen radio shows or podcasts.

After 10 hours shoehorned into the middle seat of a flight surrounded by five inconsolable newborns, and only one working loo for the entire plane, then an event where the bookseller actually put my book in the front window next to Steve Jobs’s tome (which never EVER happens), only for my iPhone to die right at the moment I was snapping the evidentiary pic, I’d gone to a super-delightful makeshift dinner where I didn’t eat enough because I hadn’t seen the person in 27 years and I was so amazed by who he had turned into as well as by who he had not. The smear of time and age had transformed him into Michael Keaton from Birdman. Then, we then ran through the pouring rain across a tiny park and ended up taking turns reciting this Buddhist poem here…

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…until we were both so drenched and freezing, we required hot chocolate. (Seriously, note to self for 2019: stop taking overly long walks in the rain while underdressed.) Then, I told him I’d used his name for a character in my next TV project because it’s such a good name—only to have him seem a little concerned. (Don’t worry, mister! Your character is super juicy!) Suffice to say, I’d racked out at the Executive Inn—the name of which we made ill-mannered jokes about in the car.

Fast forward back to 3 AM… A six-foot-five, 280-pound security guard named Benny stands terrified in the doorway with a cell phone and a fly swatter. Behind my new, soft-spoken friend, it’s still raining sheets. The lobster pokes its head out from the pillows like a Meerkat.

And this is when I realize two things: 1) There are much bigger bugs outside of Manhattan than I ever bargained for and 2) Greta Gerwig is SO completely spot-on; Sacramento really IS the midwest of California. No wonder Joan Didion comes back here to rest up after every book. Its prairie plains are topheavy with indigo sky, the people are crazy-nice, coming at you with gluten-rich baked goods (think: macaroni & cheese pie) and earnest assistance at all hours of the night. They even freak out with you—as evidenced by Benny’s attempt at some highly Yogic breathing with me after which he helped lug all my gear and books to the new room where we checked the premises for additional critters, calling out, “Hellooooo??? Anybody there?”

Honestly, I don’t know how David Sedaris manages 100-plus cities without disintegrating into a formless (yet charming) puddle of ectoplasm. (Of course, he doesn’t necessarily have a Benny.) I’ve only done eight cities and I’m practically a compost heap.

In any case, belated merry-all-the-things, Lovelies! Are you all set for 2019? Yet another year since I’ve failed at becoming a better person. Oh, New York City, I am homesick for your ever-changing ways and plainspoken sense of proportion. Please don’t morph entirely into a Sephora before I get back?

Stay rad… Here’s to subtle possession in the new year – XOXO – Gotham Girl

 

Tonight, I’m Elizabeth Taylor…

Ahoy, Lovelies. How the hell are you?

Just back from Wakanda, sporting a new brain (or what feels like one). For newcomers, this is code for… I had another tonic-clonic seizure a few weeks ago and now I’m in a Technicolor reboot of sorts where everything feels brave and new. 

The last time I woke up like this… an aging hippie was standing over me in a Muppet sweater telling me I needed some serious weed. She may not have been entirely wrong.

After being seizure-free for almost three years, here I am again… feeling just returned from an alternate universe and on even more Keppra than ever before. While I’m grateful for a drug that’s given me three extra years of life as a relatively ordinary girl,  it still has a way of turning me into Elizabeth Taylor every now and then. Something to keep an eye on…

On the flip side, the super-duper happy news is that last week Gotham Girl Interrupted made it to #1 in Amazon new releases and I’m finally able to attend the Annual American Epilepsy Society Meeting in New Orleans for the very first time! I’ll be doing a meet & greet here tomorrow for the Epilepsy Foundation at 2 pm at the Convention Center in Room #7 of the Exhibit Hall. If any of you are in the area, DO come by!

For now, stay rad, Lovelies –  XOXO – Gotham Girl

 

 

 

 

 

Save the Date…

And now for something completely different…

If you’re going to be in the New York area next month, DO come out for an evening of snarky banter as I yuck it up with fellow writer Jessica Keenan Smith of Living Well With Epilepsy for the launch of our new podcast FITS N’ STARTS—recorded LIVE at EPIC. We’ll be discussing my debut collection of comedic tales GOTHAM GIRL INTERRUPTED  (or SPAZ as I like to call it).

Join us on November 15 @ 7PM. Book signing to follow. Please do RSVP to Jean Dunn at jdunn@epicli.org or call 516-739-7733, ext 155.

She’s One Spazzy Cat (who loves to A/B test)

So, I was thinking…  and yes, we’ve talked about this before, but you know how I really don’t like the title of my book that’s coming out on Nov 6th? That I wanted to call it SPAZ because, as a rule, even before I broke my whole face, I owned the forking-shirt out of awkward-nerd-girl. I was one spazzy cat according to most people. However, the chain bookseller data heavily supported us NOT calling it that so now it’s named after this blog. But I was thinking I could maybe-possibly be a little evil when it comes out.

Here’s my idea: I could sneak into bookstores with a bunch of stickers with the correct title… If I got in trouble for defacing my own book, voi-la…there’s some much-needed press and what a great story to tell my eventual grandlings?!

I’m not keen on jail—so Imma buy the books, put the SPAZ stickers on, and then slip them back onto the shelves. It’s my very own split test and then we’ll know for sure.

XOXO – Gotham Girl

PS… Yes, I did scream into an entire bag of Cheetos this week b/c of the patriarchy, but I’m better-ish now. Thanks for asking 🙂

 

Sure, New York is difficult… but then again so am I

Or, I used to be. Hello, Lovelies…

Man, this news cycle’s a killer.

I think I officially ran out of spoons yesterday. I had to stay in my PJs today and comfort-binge the Hallmark Channel just to recover from the dumb patriarchy.

Don’t even get me started on the GOP-Brett Kavanaugh hypocrisy. It’s simply too maddening. Don’t people like Lindsey Graham and Mitch McConnell realize that if they were prospective jurors, they’d be dismissed for their prejudicial views? How do they NOT know this? But… Too many other positive, exciting things are happening!

My partners and I are shooting the teaser for a new neurodiversity-enviro thriller for Lionsgate Television. We have to move lightning fast to make our deadline, but we’ve worked on this one for a million years and so to see it actually becoming real has me holding my face and making ultra-high-pitched, joyous screaming noises that scare both the neighbors and dogs.

I’m launching a podcast with one of the coolest women on the planet… Jessica Keenan Smith from Living Well With Epilepsy. Yes, our foray into the big scary world of podcasting, (currently titled) Fits & Starts, will explore all the snarky, funny, and poignant sides of dealing with what can be a seriously humorless condition. We’ll be taping LIVE at EPIC Long Island on November 15th @ 7pm, which means there will likely be loads of bloopers. If you’re going to be in the area, come and laugh with us!

My book of ridiculous anecdotes about owning my inner electric goofball in Manhattan is coming out in six short weeks. We just had to shoot all kinds of crazy pics for publicity. I think I completely wore out my face and can no longer actually smile with my mouth.

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This is it for me…  Stay rad and safe, Lovelies – xoxo – gg

PS – Don’t you just ADORE that it’s finally lightly quilted vest weather?

 

Fires, Dream Logic, and Weeding with Parker Posey…

Hi there, Lovelies,

How the hell are you? Here’s a photo from the fires (taken by the exquisite Claire Kimple). Such a powerful, quiet reminder of the ‘tude very much needed right now.

I’m sure it’s all the scorched earth… but I keep having these wildly visceral time travel dreams where I’m plunked down throughout life at my different old homes. The last one was in Vermont at a house I’d really hesitated buying. In the dream, I’m there in full-body-sensory-Technicolor-smell-o-vision. When I land, it’s always very Dr. Who and hapless as I’m typically in the yard one or two houses over. It’s usually snowing and I have to clomp back over to our house in my jams where I’m suddenly having this very David Mamet-style conversation with the new residents about having lived there eons ago. I hesitated over buying this particular house because our kids were still dinky and it was too close to the road for my anxious-mom taste. In the dream, the new people have redone the kitchen all wrong—excoriating the very heart of the house—the butler’s pantry and the dumbwaiter. And I’m there shaking my head my head at the tremendous loss when all at once, I’m physically ripped out of the dream muscle by muscle only to wake up back in NYC with my whole body clenched and sweaty. Somehow, it all feels very much like Kelly Link dream logic + Quilt Theory. (You know, from physics and the multiverse?)

Things I’ve loved this week…

  • It’s college drop off time, which comes with all manner of anticipation, grief and feeling just plain lucky. I happened upon this hilarious podcast adventure, and thought maybe this next act is The Parker Posey Phase of My Life?
  • When I want to remember how much I love writing by hand, Laura van den Berg, author of The Third Hotel reminds me.
  • When I need solid fashion advice I check in with Grace at The Stripe.
  • When I’m at work and want to stop feeling like Ingrid Bergman from Gaslight.
  • When I want to repeat myself (like the broken record that I am) about how women in STEM can be such a kickass setting for a riveting psychological thriller, I think of only of Megan Abbott’s Give Me Your Hand.
  • When I need to recall that the word “Hobo” comes from the phrase “homeward bound” and that they had their own mythologized code.
  • Why New Yorkers (and many other humans of the world) hate slow walkers.
  • RIP Neil Simon, because whenever I need a lift from our overwhelming world I always watch Seems Like Old Times.

Ok, back to school everyone… xoxo – gg

PS – Best shot from Seems Like Old Times

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When the Thing on the Inside of Your Head is Now Suddenly on the Outside

And in your hand!!!

Hello, Lovelies, Pardon the intermission. California is still burning, but I very much want to finish this story…

To recap: it is a dark and stormy morning the opening day of BookExpo where my first book was being featured. Somehow all the galleys have gone missing, then been found in a trash compactor room on the Upper West Side by a mysterious woman who has tracked me down in a city of 8.53 million people via my daft little website, and now she’s walking up to me in the lobby of her office. She looks just like Nancy Drew—but with hot-nerd glasses. She even has Nancy’s hair-flippy-thing that I always try to do when I’m blowing out my crazy bird’s nest (except I just end up looking frizzy, like Cher from the Witches of Eastwick.)

She’s smiling as she opens a farmer’s market bag topped full of my little book. I flip to the dedication page, immediately wanting to nosedive into all the ink and paper and cry. I never thought SPAZ (the original title) would get this far. I wasn’t sure I had the… discipline. So, I’m wobbly and I don’t know how to thank this woman. It’s too early for drinking. I realize I should be Instagramming and twitscaping all the promotional moments that you’re supposed to do as a first-time author. I should be completely jumping for joy, but instead, I’m frozen as I stand there thinking, “Oh, my fucking God, what if she’s actually read the damn thing? She must know what an absolute kook-a-doo I am, what with my ridiculous bionic face, my psychedelic seizures, and yodeling for speech therapy? Holy cats! I’m going to have a seizure simply from signing my book about seizures!”

I think Alain de Botton said it best: “If we are not regularly deeply embarrassed by who we are, the journey to self-knowledge hasn’t begun.” I am suddenly deeply embarrassed and thanking this perfect stranger when out tumble the words: “Would you maybe… like one?”

She nods eagerly as I search my bag frantic for a pen. I find myself consciously having to steady my hand as I sign the galley. Am I even doing this right? I whisper to her, “This is the first book I’ve ever signed.” Her eyes widen to saucers.

Moments later, I’m schlepping past the lions of The New York Public Library toward the conference. The sky is still so dark and thunderous. Just as I reach Bryant Park, the fairy lights blink to life in the trees as if by some odd magic, and I realize right then, after all this time… I am finally a writer.

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Hold fast and stay rad, Lovelies. xoxo – gg

On Being the Mother Who Always Gets Caught: Epic Mom-Fails, Saves, and Bonus Moms

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I don’t know about you. You’re probably better than I am.

I am the mother who always gets caught. It’s practically a law of physics. If I go off-script even a little, say I break the rules, trying to stand up for my kids to mean teachers (who later turned out to be shady) or go the extra mile to be “the fun/cool mom”—it’s an utter catastrophe.

Even the times when I finally buckle and say,  “Sure thing, kiddo! Let’s stay all four days of the school campout” when other parents just stay one, and although I try to stick to the script—singing merrily ’round the campfire, chopping organic veggies with all the other proper, chipper married parents—something always happens.

Suddenly, a terrified shriek disturbs the cathedral hush of the woods… and my perfect, beautiful child is standing before us all now with a broken tooth. Her wrist has its own new…

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Was in the middle of my BookExpo fairy tale but then, the earth…

Many in northern California are struggling and will be for a long time as it’s Armageddon everywhere you turn. Those wishing to donate to families affected by the Carr Fire can do so by texting REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation.

The strange thing… in the middle of it all, I’m reading The Overstory by Richard Powers and it’s the most gorgeous, relevant writing ever.

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Suffice it to say I’m so glad I still have page one my own efforts… a single copy.

 

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So, I’ll be right back?

Stay cool, Lovelies. xoxo – gg