Be the Unlikable Female Narrator You Long to See in the World…

Even if it is a cat. Seriously, Maris Kreizman uttered the above words last week and, bless her heart if they haven’t become my goddamn rallying cry.

Hi there, Lovelies. How the hell are you?

I have, quite literally, been trying to get down with my bad self… to conjure up the very worst person I could conceive of for my next book—a most rageful, strange, and despicable girl. I need her to possess just enough heartless psychopathy but without being too creepy-cool—though don’t you just LOVE Killing Eve on BBC America? I retreat often the Beeb for emotional support viewing given the rollicking media climate stateside.

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I also tend to prefer my killers a little more hapless and awkward while still fully owning their unfettered self-righteous indignation. My girl needs to stub her toe on the ottoman in the middle of a supremely venomous diatribe. She never quite makes a clean getaway. If anything, she makes a slightly gross one. I generally know that the experiment is working if I’ve frightened Ed or my dad. Fortunately, the ritual never lasts for more than a day or so…  either because I’m morphing into a nap-oriented, Frankie-type or something entirely lovely happens like this…

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I had no idea it was even going up. And of course, I still want a different subtitle…

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Mostly because I think of this book as equal parts epilepsy, anxiety, and depression… minus much of the unending despair you usually see associated with epilepsy (or all the) Sick Lit narratives. Evidently, I lost this round, but maybe it’s not the end of the world. Maybe it’s the beginning. #SickGirlFunny?

Speaking of beginnings, if you have a chance to get outside today, Manhattan is practically a fresh-washed, Technicolor™ movie musical…

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I SO want to challenge a complete stranger to Bananagrams in Bryant Park but I have to stay inside at my desk and channel pissed-off lady criminals. I am in writer jail. Think Lorelai Gilmore goes a bit Grey Gardens. Have a meaningful day, people. Hold fast and don’t get chronic dry eye from Clockwork Orange-ing the news… xoxo – gg

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Where the hell is Neil DeGrasse Tyson? And why can’t HE be President?

Or at least a running mate? We need some science in here NOW! (Especially the city.) I’m with Jenny Lawson … I am SO SICK of Mercury in being in retrograde. We need to do something! Communication,  writing, business stuff, technology, the cloud and mass transit are all so batshit screwy this week. BUT before we go ahead and blow up Mercury, I feel like we need to get Neil to tell us what the planetary environmental repercussions would be. Because I’m thinking we might NOT NEED to actually blow it up. Instead, we could just put one of those James Bond Moonraker or Thunderball jet packs on it (but a super ginormous one, powered by dark energy) and simply nudge Mercury into moving in the right direction again.

Ed says both Jenny and I are ridiculously wrong and that what we (and all astro-types) really need is corrective lenses. (He also thinks Neil for anyone’s running mate is a swell idea.) I already wear glasses, so I still vote for Neil to fix things with planets. Or at least design the glasses…

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Stupid universe… Get your act together Mercury. You’re being like one of those dumb tourists on the Central Park reservoir path… Totally walking the wrong way with selfie-sticks fully extended and irritating the hell out of the rest of us. Grrr….

Happy Weekend Everybody. Enjoy the Columbus Avenue Street Fair and its tons of books 🙂

XOXO -GG

Call of the Wild…

From the cover of Jenny Lawson’s amazing book Furiously Happy

Greetings from Jack London-land… AKA Glen Ellen, CA, population 784… where I have been given the most INCREDIBLE gift through the hospitality of some amazing people… the chance to work undisturbed by humans on my crazy book and write where HE wrote… in this perfectly wild little hamlet (see below) …

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I haven’t wanted to waste a single second of this precious time… which is why I’ve been radio-silent on the blog. Plus, it is so crazy GORGE out here… Honestly, a city girl could easily become some kind of asshole shut-in, like Thoreau, wandering around like a slack-jawed yokel in my socks, thinking my thoughts were all special and important, but no gift as rich and complete as this one comes without a surprise or two…

My surprise involves raccoons(1). You heard me right. Raccoons! Specifically, 2 females, who live here as well and who are just THE SPIT of those awesome two old broads from Grey Gardens

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my roomies!

The whole adventure recently involved a phone call right out of McSweeney’s…

Brrring…. Brrrinnnng….

Hello, you have reached the Sonoma County Wildlife Exclusion Hotline, a division of the Sonoma County Department of Fish and Game. Please listen carefully as our menu options have recently changed…

[Sure… that’s what they all say, methinks.]

We are an all-volunteer organization, staffed by a team of wildlife specialists in EXCLUSION. Please note that while we are not an extermination organization, animals deemed a threat to public safety may be removed and humanely euthanized, if necessary…

[So, stop leaving us meanie-pants messages, you PETA jerk offs! You know who you are!]

At the sound of the tone, please leave a detailed message describing the nature of your wildlife situation. Please include your name, number and best time of day to reach you. Your call will be returned by a volunteer within 2 business days…

[But what if I’m dealing with a crisis? Like 2 dog-sized creatures brazenly eating an entire heating system and drinking milk straight from the carton???]

IF you are dealing with an EMERGENCY, please call our emergency cell phone line, staffed by a volunteer and leave a duplicate detailed message…

[Ok, so what qualifies as an…]

An EXAMPLE OF AN EMERGENCY would be… a raccoon falling through your ceiling that is currently running around your house… In other words, only leave us a message if it’s like a scene out of THE REVENANT…

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[Yipes… I consider my 2 ladies for a second and that’s when I realize 3 things… 1) If this is what people out here are used to… then I really am WAY out in THE WILD. 2) I’m starting to look a tad like Leo… and 3) it’s high time for a trip to the city… SF here, I come!]

XOXO – gg

(1) From the cover of Jenny Lawson’s amazing book Furiously Happy