Should I stay or should go? If you say that your are mine I’ll be here until the end of time So you got to let me know Should I stay or should I go? ⁓The Clash Last week I was about to throw in the towel and declare Joanne Woodward the official winner… Read more »
New York may be the best city in which to live, but it’s also the hardest. Sometimes, you have to remind yourself why you moved here—like when it’s 15 degrees and you’re walking to work, or when you step onto a subway car during rush hour and you’re slammed up against a smelly stranger, or… Read more »
It was hard to know how much we were supposed to work. We were freelance writers; we had no office and no boss and no dependable means of support. ⁓Claire Dederer, author of Poser: My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses Before Harry, the freelance lifestyle was pretty great. Ross and I traveled the world—Australia,… Read more »
Over the past few months, running has become a major theme in my life. No, I’m not running away from my problems (I have dealt with the fact that I am going to die alone head on), and I’m not suffering from a case of the runs (although if you are, I hear Imodium works wonders). I’ve been… Read more »
I was not a very good mother. I was always running out to do a movie or something. If I had to do it over, I would either have a career or children. I wouldn’t do both unless I could work in my home. I spent 20 years feeling guilty, which is not a very nice… Read more »
I took a week off from ‘Almost Carrie’ to enjoy the holidays, but don’t think for a second that I stopped contemplating Sex and the City‘s profound effects on society. In fact, Christmas vacation proved a catalyst for a complicated meditation on one of Sex and the City’s most enduring controversies—the ubiquitous presence of SATC stuff…. Read more »
I decided to start writing Big City Siren after a homeless man peed on me…
My Uncle Jack and Aunt Anna were having marital problems in the early 1940s. Their fighting hit a new high in their East Harlem neighborhood when Aunt Anna found half her house money missing from the flour tin. She chased Uncle Jack with a ladle full of dog crap up First Avenue to the entrance of the 138th Street Bridge. Jack ran into… Read more »
My first coffin was metal. It measured six feet long, three feet wide, and three feet deep. It rested on a wood base that lifted its height up by one foot. It sat in near darkness at the rear of the parlor. Everyone paid their respects. Upon close examination, you saw it bled sweat and… Read more »
There are some plays that, no matter how many different versions I’ve seen over the years, I will continue to seek out simply because the writing is so extraordinary. A Streetcar Named Desire comes to mind. Then there are plays that, although they are very good—masterpieces even—I feel no pressing need to ever see again. … Read more »
