Every time I look at my story that is only five pages long—even though I’ve been working on it for literally a year and a half—I hear the siren call of insanity, so instead I’m going to watch British game shows and think about what it’ll be like when I’m eaten by my own cats.
#LIVING THE DREAM
Apparently it’s, like, a thing in Russia to photoshop your wedding photos. Ohhhhh my godddd. What are they even doing over there??
(From Flavorwire; click on the photo for more. How could you not?)
wk12:
Maurice Sendak died on Tuesday.
He left behind a world of wild things, little bears, goblins, and mysterious night kitchens.
Yesterday, Riswold asked us to create a fitting send-off for Sendak.
We decided to go back to the world he created for us. We painted the walls, cut up everything we could get our hands on, and made a total mess of the 12 space (sorry, Jinnina).
Sixteen hours later, we’d recreated one of Sendak’s most iconic settings. And in the spirit of his work, we made it so everyone could be part of that world.
It’s a bittersweet goodbye, but it’s the least we could do for the man who inspired us to forever be wild things.
I like to bitch about Portland sometimes, but I find the good outweighing the bad over and over and over again. This is the type of thing that keeps winning me back.
OBAMA 2012
I just had the weirdest experience
in which I went to reach for a word for my story, and the one I came up with was Spanish.
The word, by the way, is susurrando, which means whispering. I am so, so upset we don’t have this word in English. It’s exactly the one I needed.
I’m trying to write, I really am, but there’s a pigeon outside my window doing what can only be described as a sexy dance, and it’s really distracting.
“And now,” cried Max, “let the wild rumpus start!”
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