Caprese and Swiss chard pizza. The chard and the basil is from the garden, but the tomato was from the store. Those aren’t ready yet.
Apart from drugs, art is the largest unregulated market in the world.
This is one of two photos of me on display in my granny’s house. It’s funny because it’s me at my other grandparents’s house, holding my favourite doll my other grandmother made me.
I don’t think writers ever get a real vacation. We can take a trip, ignore email, stop posting, hang the daily word count. But we can’t stop thinking about writing. At least I can’t.
My time away in June wasn’t planned. That was because of the sprained ankle which kept me off my foot and on crutches for nearly a month. It kept me cranky and unable to do much of anything for myself. I didn’t want to write. I just wanted everything to stop.
Of course, everything can’t, and it won’t, and that’s a perfectly good definition of life right there. Besides, my real summer vacation wouldn’t start until July 1st, and I had to make sure I could walk on my own. A week in Colorado, a road trip through the American West, and then another week in California. A cabin in the woods, a lot of moose, a small town parade, a drive over the mountains and down into the red rocks, a city I keep coming back to, for friends and for the place itself. I collected places and people and stories every day I was gone.
Being back means now I have to write them. But it also means I’m excited to write them again. That’s what I lost in June and what I found in July. Maybe it’s for the best that writers never stop thinking about writing. It’s the only way I know to keep myself going.
So why is the show so often portrayed as a set of empty, static cartoons, an embarrassment to womankind? It’s a classic misunderstanding, I think, stemming from an unexamined hierarchy: the assumption that anything stylized (or formulaic, or pleasurable, or funny, or feminine, or explicit about sex rather than about violence, or made collaboratively) must be inferior.
This is a really good read about how male-centric shows are retrospectively worshipped while female-centric shows like “Sex and the City” are relegated to mockery. Terrible movies aside, the TV show was groundbreaking, popular, and funny. This author has some very insightful thoughts as to why its existence is now a punchline.
I was never a big SitC fan, but this was a good article.
Shows, and movies too. The article also makes a good case for Carrie as anti-heroine; we have a tough time with letting women be unlikable onscreen in this cultue.
This is a good read.
It’s hard to remember that this show is so good when the movies were so bad.
We couldn’t decide what was cheesier: “on the road again” or “rocky mountain high”