Girl Swallows Sun

Hello, Lovelies, How the hell are you?

I think Sara Benincasa called it correctly yesterday. There is nothing sexier than a French fireman rescuing art. Between, the accent, the bravery, and the overall cultural redemption… serious swoon.

In 2015, my facial nerves were severed. No more feeling, no smile—only a smirk after many months of ridiculous face push-ups. I remember wanting to feel a kiss so badly. I’d watch husbands, wives, and lovers at school drop-off and just long. Perched on my stoop, full of pins and plates, I’d close my eyes and imagine a man kissing me on the very sexy-ticklish spot where my earlobe becomes my neck. I’d feel the bristle of his well-trimmed scruff against my cheek. My face, unafraid, cradled in his hands, the laughing play of whispered jokes. The warmth of lips would always become this girl-swallows-sun glow I’d carry around all day.

It’s been four years since I’ve felt a kiss.


I’ve almost started forgetting that it’s even possible, which means I mourn it less. Last week on the anniversary of the beastly day, friends took me to lunch for an amazing re-birth-day. For the last few years, I’ve regarded the date itself with a mix of superstition, gratitude, and regret. Somehow, this approach and comedy have saved my rag and bone hiney, but yesterday, watching Notre Dame burn amid the quiet shock and then the hymns, I re-remembered love and missed it deep in my bones. I’d been in love there once.

I would like a French fireman, please? Preferably one who reads?

French Firemen

Thanks to those of you who wrote in to tell me I had Trump hair. Arya Stark voice back at you: A girl has toner…  and a list. But don’t get me started on that despicable Cheeto.

Stay rad, Lovelies – xoxo – gg

Welcome to Face Club…

Cartoon by the amazing Allie Brosh!

The first rule of Face Club is: you do not talk about Face Club.

To hell with that.

For those of you just joining us, it’s a little over a year since I shattered my face and jaw in a grand mal seizure. Worse still, I severed all the facial nerves that fan out like a daisy across the right side of my forehead, cheeks, lips and chin. This has meant no feeling or movement for things like speaking, eating, drinking, smiling and blinking. It took 11 months to be able to blink again on my own . Lately, I am relearning how to whistle… so that I might be able to kiss again. Right now, I can only smooch people like Auntie Mame… MWAAAAHHH! Beware, I practice all the time. I had no any idea how many muscles it takes to close one’s lips together, even just for a second! It’s like doing a prison push-up with my mouth!


Much of the time, getting better seems to stretch out to infinity. Progress has been so fucking imperceptible… like clouds on a windless day. Grrrr… But the city has been a marvelous place to recover in that it affords so much anonymity. Hooray for strangers’ willful ignorance. Such a blessing in disguise!

Today, however, I woke up to a freakin’ miracle… I can finally raise my right eyebrow!

WOOHOO! YES, I can give people the side eye. I can fully AL GORE just about anyone I want… on command! It’s the best. To celebrate, I’m going to AL GORE people everywhere, all day! I might even sigh audibly when I do it just so they notice!



PS – my skull a year ago!


How Love Should Be…

Snarky little secrets, whispered behind musty, inky pages that transport you both. New York is a good city for this kind of love. Makes me want to live here always… (crap res photo… I know… sorrs)

Need to live here

Before the frosted jaws of winter clamp down on us all … I had to look around the city today… When you know you’re losing something you love for a good long while (or maybe forever) you just want to memorize every line, every leaf, every perfect imperfection…

Whether in the park…


or on the subway… before it’s all covered in snow…


Here’s to a winter hiding together, naked, behind good words… xoxo – gg

P.S. I have been reading Fate and Furies… Lauren Groff’s prose is like a fast sailing craft whose heavy keel slices razor-like through the water of your mind’s eye… you see every frame…

Last, Lazy Days… And an Awesome Ashley Opportunity!

The air was SO CRISP this morning, it reminded me that our 2 days of actual New York City autumn will soon be upon us!

The whole prospect of it has me craving domestic order like a Labrador in heat… I want to magic eraser my entire apartment (along with select portions of my life and the dog). Dust bunnies begone! I am SO ready to alphabetize my books…


And so it just occurred to me that quite soon (read: NOW) there is going to be a HUGE glut of very contrite displaced males… all in a metropolitan area with an EXTREME shortage of quality pre-war apartments. Lads, do I have a list of chores for you…


Hmmm…  let’s think about requirements…

  • A strongish design aesthetic.
  • Knowledge of power tools (esp. a belt sander) and electric.
  • Good grammar essential–must know the difference between you’re and your, it’s and its, etc.
  • Moderately gainful employment, but you needn’t be a Rockefeller…
  • It would help if you looked a bit like a pirate or Collin Firth (perhaps, when he was more of a whippersnapper–none of  this latest Kingsman malarky).
  • And… if you weren’t terribly needy or fussy, that’d be fine. No vegans.
  • Must like books, jazz and annoying dogs.

There, I think that’s about it…

xoxo – gg

My Funny Valentine…

Ah, long term relationships…

Screen Shot 2015-02-14 at 3.39.53 PM

Derek Springsteen

Maybe it’s time for a bigger apartment? (In NYC definitely)

Happy day people…  if you are newly coupled, maybe revel in the fact that falling in love with love is one of the best feelings in all of existence… like that moment right after you sneeze–except longer.


If you’ve recently had your heart pummeled, take comfort in the fact that at least you were reminded of what it feels like to love and maybe… if the person was a really good person, maybe you can tell him or her “Hey… it was an honor to have my heart broken by you.” Chances are… they’ll feel like total garbage but you will have taken the high road if you really mean it. Otherwise, it’s passive aggressive like crazy. I think this may actually be the New York thing to do.

If you are just going along… then go along… and perhaps someday, if you want, you too will see someone poop.

All my love – gg

A Guide for the Perplexed and Dirty: 5 things to do if you are sad…

I’m not sure how it happened… maybe it’s that I’m completely naive or just living a life of unparalleled denial… but I’m mostly a very happy person… I’m serious.  Even when things are really bad, I’m pretty much like this:


cartoon by the amazing allie brosh –

It’s true that daily life (and New York) can wear on a girl, but whether it’s missing a flight, or an epic subway fail, or being accosted an angsty Elmo on the way to work, or that Marvin (my drag queen trainer) keeps telling me I’m still fat, or that I accidentally washed and dried all of my sweaters on the super-crazy-hot setting, so that I can never wear any of them again… I’m pretty chin up.

Chin down would mean staring, full frontal, into the abyss and I’m a writer. We’re already maudlin enough… Between Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf and David Foster Wallace…  writers are a grim lot and not usually featured in the above cartoon.

But WHAT do you do when you’ve messed something up so bad that you are like this?


cartoon by the amazing allie brosh –

Perplexed, despondent, muddy… that’s me right now. (To add insult to injury, it’s also really cold tonight. As I write this… I’m in bed wearing a ski hat and fingerless mittens. Go sexy)

But back to dirt and despair… There was a great post a while back on the blog The Girl in the Little Black Dress called “100 things to do if you’re sad.” Excerpting, borrowing and adding my own little bits… here are 5 that the “me” in my inner Amelie have tried…

1. Let them eat cake. Go out to dinner with your friends (or friend, don’t be picky). Midway through the dinner, sneak back to the kitchen and tell them it’s your friend’s birthday (even though it’s not) and could they please do something involving cake? When it all goes down with the candles and singing, your friend will laugh his/her guts out and feel completely marvelous. My friends have had so many “birthdays” this way. And if, for some reason, your friend doesn’t appreciate the gesture, then cross that wet blanket off your Christmas card list. Jeeze.

2.  Vive la France.  Watch a French movie….Amelie, Populaire (both on Netflix) or May Fools (on Hulu). Amelie will remind you that cracking the top of creme brulee is the best thing ever, that people’s faces are more beautiful and true in the dark, and that the feeling you have right after you sneeze is amazing. If you don’t have the patience for the film, you can always just watch the motorcycle scene at the end… Remember when you last did that? I do…

With Populaire between the gorgeously designed opening titles, the pink typewriters that don’t work and Romain Duris transforming from pissy little asshole to a genuinely sweet person, you can’t help but feel more chin-up about whatever is bothering you. (GLBD)

In May Fools, it’s like a holiday in the south of France with a quirky family that you’ll want as your own, along with the old manoir they are skirmishing over. Spoiler alert… real estate is my porn…

3. Time Travel. Look up the time in another country. Any country… It could be Borneo, Paris or Peru…anywhere. Think about what the sky looks like there. Are the people eating breakfast? Is it dark enough for skinny dipping? Is everyone asleep except for people working the night shift in hospitals and heavy-lidded people in love?

4. Get Between the Sheets. Take a set of clean sheets (or just wash your sheets, why don’t you) and put them on high heat in the dryer (just like the sweaters). When done, quickly make your bed, take off all of your clothes and climb in with the sheets pulled up to your chin. You may not have fixed anything in your life, but you will feel instantly better.

5. Run Wild. Go to your nearest park (preferably Central Park), sit on a bench and quietly make fun of all/most of the runners passing by for about 20 minutes. Then, pick the goofiest one you saw and go run exactly like that person for a hundred yards or more. Screw what other people think. It’s New York. Anyone who is interesting at all is “at one” with their weirdness. You will be so surprised at how liberating it is to be a beautiful, full blown spaz. You will definitely want to do this more than once–in your apartment and with friends. You’ll see. Being a goofball is strangely addictive…

In the meantime, for the perplexed, the despondent and the dirty… it may seem discouraging, but sometimes there is no fixing… only distracting…


Move Over Bridget Jones…

Day 5 of the bread cleanse and I’m getting so much done!


Cartoon by the amazing Aliie Brosh

I haven’t felt this good since I was 4 and ate all of my mother’s birth control pills. (What? They looked like candy)


I even had a moment of clarity this week…

It happened on Epiphany… that little known Catholic-ish holiday that comes 12 days after Christmas when Jesus appeared to the 3 Wise Men in the desert and said…”Bitches… you need to haul ass to Bethlehem with some presents because I am moving and I have no furniture or plates… ”

Now, the word “epiphany” generally implies something positive….a revelation, a light bulb moment, or a 1970’s V8 juice commercial. In Manhattan though, most of the epiphanies I’ve witnessed are preceded by an audible groan, followed by an expletive.

My epiphany was like this:


Cartoon by the amazing Aliie Brosh

What happened was… I got an email… a simpering, whiney, needy letter from a guy friend from a million years ago, who talked about everything thing from his yellowing teeth to his irritable bowels and how much he could love me…

Reading it made my whole being feel like puckered fingers… You know, the kind you get from staying too long in the bath? It was the cringiest moment of my adult life and I’ve already had loads of them…

I have been this woman… standing in my leopard print undies in the snowy street, trying explain my actions and feelings. I mean, we’ve all done this, right? When you finally find your very own Colin Firth, you simply can’t help yourself.

Screen Shot 2015-01-08 at 9.26.20 PM

And I’ve also been this same woman–wrong costume, wrong party… all wrong. Time to de-bunny.


But in my big moment of clarity, I really saw myself these past weeks and I realized…

I had become “bowel guy” and it sucked.

I’d been doing exactly what he was doing…writing ridiculous, simpering, pathetic things–emails, texts to loads of people… ugh… When you recognize your own idiocy in the actions of others, it’s like a massive attack of dread, self-loathing and chagrin… it’s the very definition of “cringing”.

In NYC, there are so many opportunities for these bright moments, it’s a wonder anyone can leave their apartment.

Right after the shock, I wanted to hide forever, like this:


Fortunately, it was nothing a little bread couldn’t cure. So, am sticking with it.

Will have bottom the size of Brazil, but hello… the enlightenment’s worth it 🙂


Cartoons by the amazing Allie Brosh from and the book: Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things that Happened…