So I’ve been unemployed for about a week.

(Ok, there’s probably a better term for that. I freelance, so this isn’t uncommon. “Between jobs” is a better way of saying it. “Unemployment” sounds as if I’m eligible for government money, which I’m not. This is more “taking a break to focus on my writing.” It sounds better than “hasn’t put on real pants in days.”)

Anyways. I really have been writing. I’ve been spending these hermit-like long days at home, not leaving the house, re-reading “Wild Mind,” walking around the kitchen in circles, thinking be a writer be a writer write something really great today you can do it go go go go create create create create, and then I make some more coffee and then I write some stuff down. And then I re-read it and I think crap crap crap crap this is terrible I’m not a writer this is the worst everything is awful and then I have to take a break for awhile. And so that’s what I was doing, taking a break, when I landed upon this old idea of mine and thought, fuck it, we’re doing this instead.

This is ladypockets. The joke is pretty evident, I think, but in case it needs explaining, here goes: instead of writing the great American Novel, I made a fake fashion + lifestyle blog where I tell you where to buy Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s earrings.

I don’t see myself updating it regularly. I just wanted it to exist, and now it does, and in some way I can’t quite articulate properly, that’s what the internet is all about, Charlie Brown.

 

In other news, it’s probably a really good thing that I go back to work in June.