one year since.

  Last year today we were going out to dinner to celebrate the release of my first book, The Half Life of Molly Pierce and today the morning is grey and I am working on a new book, one without a title, one almost done after weeks of doing nothing else but writing- until I feel […]

great room.

  Sometimes, waking early before the others, wandering the rooms wrapped in a blanket or drinking my tea in the empty kitchen, I had that most rare of feelings, the sense that the world, so consistently overwhelming and incomprehensible, in fact has an order, oblique as it may seem, and I a place within it.  […]

old friends.

I forgot how nice it is to know someone for so long that you can’t really remember a time you didn’t know them. My ninth birthday party, on video, me with hair so long it reached my butt, perpetually uncombed and snarled and hers matching in every respect except for how much darker it was. Constantly […]

ojai.

  Ojai is too bright and hot to ever fully open my eyes, so the result is a trip a little fuzzy around the edges. We arrive in the early afternoon, irritable with hunger and the delays of Labor Day traffic. We walk slowly through the types of stores you can only find in towns […]

at rodeo beach.

  I get sick on the way to San Francisco. I eat a boring dinner: bland risotto and heirloom tomatoes. My mother has steak. We share a half bottle of wine. That night we try to watch a movie but the stomach pain has already started. I think I’m gong to be sick, I say. […]

sunken city.

  A rough few weeks and a city settling into spring. A Saturday free of any responsibility and a jump over a low stone wall, a shimmy underneath a hole in a fence where moments before a lifeguard’s truck stood sentry. S and I slipped our way down the side of a cliff to find ourselves […]

gabi & ali on the beach.

The weather in Santa Monica is unpredictable enough that when I pick the sisters up at their house it’s sunny and blue, and when we get to the beach the wind has picked up and our hair blows around our heads and pretty soon we’re freezing, my fingers so numb I can barely hit the […]

alana in her home.

It’s only seventeen minutes from Santa Monica to the Pacific Palisades but it feels wholly separate from Los Angeles, a hidden corner of the city flanked by mountains and greenery. It feels otherworldly—a place where your cell phone loses service and the cars thin out and it seems like there are only two roads, the […]

point dume.

I’ve lived in Los Angeles just short of six months and it still feels like some impermanent, fluctuating span of time. Like a vacation, almost, but one where you still have to work and you still have to pay your bills and you still have to fill your car up with gas. I don’t know […]