Writing in my notebook while trying to write

Thurs. 5/29, 11:30, Paragraph

Here! And no appointments today, no people, just working, hooray. J. blew off lunch on Tuesday, which was fine; went to Judith yesterday and talked about all the lousy relationships I'm still in. Was in a shit mood because I had to pay Oakwood and my AmEx is no good right now and it was stressful. Didn't write last night, just made dinner and watched a movie, went to bed. Still arguing with M. in my head. Never should have reached out to him in the first place. God, even writing in my notebook feels so hard, feels like I haven't done it in a week. And this haircut is the bane of my existence. Anyway, now that I'm here and sworn to being productive I don't want to be, I want to blow it off and go buy sunglasses, blunt myself, kill time. Have to call B. at lunch. Everyone's a pain in the ass. I'm done with people. I'm the cat that hated people. I'd like to come up with a blog post today, I'd like to start the travel piece. I should try writing about what an asshole I am instead of always writing about what assholes people are to me. I'm angry but I don't want to post about it. Anyway, let me get back to the Danielle piece.

12:50 Two pages! Now I can get some lunch, then pick it up again, then maybe a blog post re: leave me alone? Hard to say. I'm not anti-social, I just don't want to deal with anybody. Fuck everyone, just fuck them. Go me.

1:45 Ughsters. Got some lunch, keeping at the Danielle thing, also checking email on my phone, which is deadly slow for some reason. And my neck and back hurt, and I feel like quitting. Have to sign the power of attorney form before we go away. Write to Gillian from On The Rise, a pile of other emails to respond to. But good. I feel good. I got some writing done, not that anything's "done," but something got worked on, and even if it goes nowhere, I got that feeling, I got into a voice, it's something I can say I'm working on, the Danielle piece. Now try to work on a blog post. About?

2:15 Holy crap. I can't write a fucking blog post to save my life.

2:50 Still nope. Just a bunch of angry shit about being abused by people. M., that pile of shit. You're a pile of shit.

3:10 STILL NOTHING. Because I am angry.

3:30 If I'm not going to write about M. and/or people blowing me off for lunch, then I need to pick another topic and go with it. Although maybe what I should do is go home. Almost 4 hours today, that's enough, right? Or I could write a post about being grateful.

3:45 I QUIT.

Readings: Now and Forever

A quick update to alert you to an imminent appearance, and an imminent lack thereof:

Tuesday, May 27, 8pm, suggested donation
Flying Saucer Cafe, 494 Atlantic Ave. between 3rd Ave. & Nevins St, Brooklyn

I'll be reading with Roxana Robinson at the Other Means reading series. All proceeds go to Natural Resources Defense Council.

June & July: Nothing! (Snoopy dance.)

Sunday, August 3, 6pm, free
McNally Robinson bookstore, 52 Prince St. between Lafayette and Mulberry

I'll be doing a free one-hour Memoir Writing class at McNally Robinson, courtesy of Gotham Writers' Workshop.

Wednesday, August 20, 7pm, open to members of the public
LIM College, 12 East 53rd Street

I'll be back at LIM College, where I had so much fun back in March.

Friday, August 14 and Saturday, August 15
American Psychological Association conference, Boston, MA

I'll be signing books and shmoozing shrinks at the APA conference -- look for me at the Random House table on Friday at noon and Saturday at one.

Wednesday, September 17, $150
Sonesta Hotel, Cambridge, MA

I am delighted to be the keynote speaker at this year's Prepare for Winter Dinner to benefit On The Rise, an organization supporting women in crisis.

Myanmar!

I've had a lot of trouble posting, not for any lack of desire to do so, but because I keep feeling like everything I have to say is petty and insignificant. It's like, if I'm not singlehandedly freeing Tibet with this blog, or digging out Chinese quake victims with my trenchant commentary, why bother? Like my stupid book matters in the face of nature's devastation, man's inhumanity to man, the ineluctable mysteries of the universe, etc. It's hard not to feel helpless, hopeless, and uninspired. Bill was reading the Times the other night, we were doing that thing that old couples do, where you sit with different section of the paper and comment to each other on the stories that catch your eye, and he read me a few lines from a story about South African riots, and how people fleeing violence and social collapse in Zimbabwe and Somalia are being beaten to death in the streets. And my first reaction is sorrow, confusion, how could people do that, and like that; then I realize that I am extremely privileged and naive, and that if I found myself in what I believed to be a life or death situation, if I honestly thought it was either me or that guy who got to eat today, wouldn't I beat that guy to death to get my food? To get food for those I loved? Just because I am lucky enough not to have to commit violence in order to protect my own chances of survival, doesn't mean that I wouldn't, if faced with the necessity. So all my head-shaking and hand-wringing is ridiculous, bourgeois, misguided, condescending, a fallacy borne of temporary privilege on this planet.

Anyway, that's what's been on my mind.

Have You Filmed Her?

Bill, as the character of "Bill Scurry," on the set of the trailer for Have You Etc. Etc.

Me, as "Shelter Girl #3."

Spent the day in Williamsburg shooting a trailer for the book, produced and directed by the fabulous Jonny Stuyvesant of Milk Products Media, with special hair and makeup effects by Michelle Kearns. And I know, most people do their book trailers when their book comes out -- what can I say, I'm special. I did the Girlbomb trailer a year after publication, so this one is actually ahead of schedule.

It's been a creatively frustrating time for me lately -- none of my projects seem to be bearing fruit; whatever fleeting inspiration I have just evaporates on the page. I can't even blog satisfactorily these days -- I barely even update my Facebook status, that's how bad it is. So it was extra gratifying to spend the day creatively involved in something I feel good about, working with talented, organized professionals. I had so much fun, in fact, that I wore the makeup for "Shelter Girl #3" all the way home, and am sitting here at my desk blogging right now with the fiercest eyebrows, waiting for Bill to get off work so we can go get some Thai food and I can fill him in on everything that happened after he left the set this morning.

I'ma wear my eyebrows to Thai food, too.

Remember when I used to talk about myself all the time?

I kind of don't feel like it any more.

But here's an interview I did back when I was still all chatty and enamored of myself as a subject. Warning: Not safe for work!

Blah blah blah, me me me, etc etc etc

It's possibly the most hypocritical interview I've ever done, as it's for a website called Suicide Girls, which features pictures of naked women for the purpose of sexual gratification (or, as we sex-negative second-wave types call it, "porn"). So, yeah, there's me on a porn site. Talking about my book, Have You Plowed Her. By Anus Erlbuns.

The folks will be so proud!

Bookslut

No, not me, the website. They just reviewed my "new" book, Hedda Gabler!

(The puns on my book title are becoming more obtuse. Might I be...dare we hope...running out of them?)

But bookslut is also kind of me, because I've still been tramping all around town promoting my book. Last week, I got to meet with the Chapter Chicks, an awesome all-girl book club that tends towards female memoirists. On Sunday, I read at Sunny's, hosted by Gabriel Cohen, with fellow readers Matthew Sharpe and Abraham Rodriguez -- in the crowd were my beloved writer's group, Anne, Cheryl, and Virginia, as well as author Jen Block, and our pal Georgia and her peeps. And last night, I read at Housing Works with Nick Flynn and Stephen Elliott, whose 2006 book, My Girlfriend Comes to Town and Beats Me Up, has easily my favorite book title of, oh, forever. Audience members -- including Virginia, Gabriel, Anne Radford, and a 72-year-old self-proclaimed "saint/slut" named Hattie -- were treated to sneak previews of Stephen and Nick's works-in-progress, which was a treat indeed. Thanks to Housing Works, now celebrating its tenth anniversary, and to Lauren Cerand for producing the event.

I'm hoping to be less of a promiscuous writer in weeks to come -- more faithful to my work, and to this blog. Bookprude, perhaps?

Strident, long-winded, and appearing this weekend

It's about time for another one of those posts that isn't really about anything except publicizing my book!

Here's a lovely interview with our friend Will McKinley in this week's The Villager. If I sound like I'm on an exceptionally high horse, it's because the interview took place two days after the whole Margaret Fuckface Jones thing, and I was still pissed. I mean, of course I lie; remember that time I got sick and couldn't make it to that book party? I was totally home watching Lost.

And here's a 53-minute interview with Deborah Harper of Psychjourney.com -- big huge spoiler alert! Also, laughing while talking alert!

And finally, back to back readings this Sunday (3pm, Sunny's in Red Hook) and Monday (7pm, Housing Works, with Nick Flynn and Stephen Elliott). In case you Haven't Heard Me read from Have You Found Her. Last few readings before I become a total Salinger and retreat from society entirely! Or something.