Butterfly

Without gooey, wet music, nonfiction can get dry and flaky. Its author may also become too fact-heavy, which feels sort of like having eaten too much white rice. Tonight I read a survival strategy of a favorite writer: listen to opera when you write nonfiction. Makes sense. They’re cranking out the same goddamn “La Boheme,” […]

Before I Get Old

When I was seventeen and attending a Pearl Jam concert, I was concerned that I was uncool because I had never been to Europe or had a boyfriend. Also, my pants were usually wrong, one way or another. At last night’s Pearl Jam show, I was afraid I was uncool because I am old. Thirty-three. How times change.

Loud

The record I chose tonight was Prokofiev. I bought it for the mandarin orange and butterscotch yellow design on the jacket. I was stirring up spaghetti sauce and classical music seemed like the thing. I didn’t really think about what Prokofiev was. He was, on this record, spanking loud full symphony sawing away. Most of […]

Made Up

Sparkly eyeshadow and inky, aerodynamic eyebrows peer at me over my boyfriend’s shoulder, as he hugs the glam rock guy and says hello. This is reassuring. Sparkly eyeshadow on a man is so reassuring. I had left the house that evening feeling jittery. Through the wonders of the internet, I was aware that six blocks […]