Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Next On the Cusp

All the info's here! It's Wednesday, May 2nd at The Bindery. You'll be there, right? Yes. Good.

Early-morning coffeeshop regulars

This is what I'd say to them if only I actually wanted to engage:

Good morning, shitheads. First off, thank you for dropping the door on me as you walked in this fine freezing morning. Etiquette isn't all that important, is it? Then you act like this fucking Alameda Starbucks is your personal bar ("Sara! Put it on my tab!") and then yammer about golf at a volume better suited for the Coliseum. 

You deserve the guy spanging you right now, fuckers. 

Friday, February 23, 2018

Charles Bukowski, "Air and Light and Time and Space"

air and light and time and space

"–you know, I’ve either had a family, a job,
something has always been in the
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have
a place and the time to

no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown
you’re going to create blind
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses

Thursday, February 22, 2018

Hung out with Pennie last night

She's awesome. Super complimentary on the fam, which I really appreciate. Fact is, Adam and I do connect in a way that's kind of ineffable and beyond anything else I've ever experienced. We've known each other 15 years, been together 13, married nearly 10. Of course there's something there. I'm stoked that it's apparent.

We sat at Farm Burger and talked while Baz played. It was super nice. If only she didn't live in damn Colorado.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Next On the Cusp


Joyce Maynard
Maw Shein Win
Joe Clifford

Still waiting on our fourth. It's taking place in May; more details to follow. Exciting!

Tuesday, February 20, 2018



I am stoked to be chatting with Joyce Maynard, one of my mentors and favorite authors, about appearing at the next On the Cusp Reading Series! I first read Joyce's Baby Love at 6 years old (no lie) and have always loved her work. I still have a printout of an email from her up on my wall -- she writes that my work is first-rate and I hold that dear.

So excited!

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Adam just posted this on my FB timeline

Love Sonnet XI
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Pablo Neruda

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

A little cafe time

I was kind of cracked this morning and needed to get out. So I took Baz to a cafe with a small play area, and it was awesome.

In lieu of description, here's a few shots of the main event: him.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Sitting on something dead

I'm at Harris Ranch on the way home, and I'm sure whatever I'm sitting on used to be alive and kicking. Or mooing. Or something.

Damn, LA was packed and I'm tired. Had brunch with Yelles and his puppy Chester this morning. It was awesome seeing both of them. It's like I just saw him last week. It always feels like that with good friends.

I'm looking forward to being home with these guys. And the dogs. And Harry Elefante, pictured.

Friday, February 9, 2018

My baby

Three years ago

Six weeks in utero and already so close to my heart. I had to nudge Adam and remind him to take a picture. Later we went to Telegraph and I stood outside, talking to Bob on the phone:

You can still go to your cafes and shit. You can still go to your restaurants and shit. You'll just have a little baby with you. That little baby was made in love, man.

Smart man. Very smart.

And here's a few random recents:

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

On motherhood

Today was a roller coaster of an emotional day. Between seeing my work published, fielding (good) reactions, sending it out to friends who may or may not respond, and trying to get regular stuff done, today was packed. In the middle of everything, I took BART into the city to have lunch with Adam, which was definitely a highlight.

I picked Baz up at school and fought traffic over to Oakland, intending to take him to a cafe with a play area. When I pulled up, they were in the midst of closing. So I took him for ice cream near the lake. As I told Marcus, you'd think I'd gotten him Guillotine Flavor. Let's just say we were back in the car pretty soon.

Toddlerhood is fucking crazy.

It’s up


Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Huffington Post article

It's hard to know how this will be received. I hope it's well written, but on the internet, that's only the beginning. Some people will tear down anything, especially when it comes to someone who falls outside the norm.

Everyone keeps saying: don't read the comments. Good advice.

The morning rush

It's soul-draining, really. The come on and let's go and did you eat your breakfast? I don't know how people live the way they live, the way that life is Supposed to Be. I never could, never did, never will.

Monday, February 5, 2018

Thank God I'm a country girl

John Denver is the sound of my childhood. It drives Adam crazy when I put him on; he rolls his eyes and laughs. But that's what we listened to, him and Cat Stevens and all the pop shit that my mother loves and so I love it too.

Right now as Baz climbs all over me and I'm attempting to finish this real-estate guide, we're listening to him:

You fill up my senses
Like a night in the forest
Like the mountains in springtime
Like a walk in the rain

I wonder if he'll remember this down the road, if one day he'll tell someone he loves about this, if he'll feel what I feel.

Working at home

I haven't worked at home alone with Baz in some time. Today Adam started a gig in the city and it's me and Bazzy and the pups and holy shit this is the way it goes:

"Okay, Baz, I'm gonna need you to play with your trains for a few minutes."


"Okay, here you go. Now, want to hang out with your toys for a few minutes? Or read a book? Or plot the revolution?"

"Little Deuce Coupe."

"Sure, okay, let's listen to it for the 27 millionth time. Cool?"


"Why not, let's read this fucking stupid book once again. Just make sure you say Mr. Cock for Mr. Peacock so's Mommy can have a laugh, okay?"


I. Am. Not. Your. Daycare. Director. Absolutely nothing against Mabel, who is a wizard and a goddess and a damn good person to boot. But I'm the one who had restless leg syndrome and felt you kick and dreamt about being called Mommy. So do it, God damn it.

Saturday, February 3, 2018

Purple Rain

The day Prince died, I swayed with Baz to this song. We danced together in our living room. It was an end and a beginning all in one.

The Uma Thurman interview

Lots of controversy here, but I got chills at this last line:

“Personally, it has taken me 47 years to stop calling people who are mean to you ‘in love’ with you. It took a long time because I think that as little girls we are conditioned to believe that cruelty and love somehow have a connection and that is like the sort of era that we need to evolve out of.”

Friday, February 2, 2018

Editing this

Guys always say girls love jerks. Sometimes they’re wrong, but sometimes they’re just dead-on right. And why? Well, first of all, it’s just not girls. Everyone loves a challenge. And jerks are just that: a challenge. You think you’ve pegged them and then they slip out of your grasp. You think that just because they dictate your feelings that they’re going to give a damn about them.

Think again.

“Fine,” he says. “You look like a little lost puppy. And they don’t let dogs on public transit.”

There are so, so many ways I could take that. Maybe he’s calling me ugly. Maybe he’s calling me a bitch. Maybe he’s calling me an animal, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried that.

“Well,” I say, “thanks.”

I don’t mean to sound sincere. I want my voice to be cutting, sarcastic, all those ugly feelings that cut the side of your tongue when you experience them. Instead I sound grateful and for an instant I simply hate myself for being a –

A –

“Puppy,” he says. “It’s cute, Meredith. Really.”

Okay, class, what do we know about puppies? They squawk. They nip. They cry. And they need, need, need.

“Get your damn clothes on,” I say, “and let’s go.”

He looks surprised. I barely hold back a grin. Looks like this pup has a little bit of bite to go with her bark. Just try whacking me on the nose with some newspaper. I double-dare you.

When he wanders to the bathroom to change – because apparently now he’s shy – I grab my phone and text Paul.


Is this what it’s like to have someone who gives a damn? It feels simple, almost too easy. Almost like I should be working harder for this. Like love is a treat dangled before your nose, so close you could smell it, taste it, but not close enough for it to feed you. 

Thursday, February 1, 2018