This smart and adorable woman, Jacqueline Suskin, sits at the Hollywood Farmer’s Market and writes poems on command for perfect strangers, for however much you want to pay her. You give her a topic, let’s say, love, and she asks you a question, what kind of love? and you say about how I feel about the girl in my Chemistry class or about how I love my child so much it makes me nauseous and then she goes to town on one of her many vintage typewriters, and hands the poem over, and never sees it again. It’s like my monologue business kind of but way more adorable and way more immediate. She doesn’t seem to ever have an unsatisfied customer, especially because she doesn’t demand a certain amount of $ for her work, but instead, just suggests, well, ‘whatever’ (oftentimes receiving 20 bucks for a poem that takes her a minute to write.) What I love about this woman is she’s taken her craft, poetry, and kept her life simple, but also, figured out a way to make a living while doing what it is she was born to do. (I could be wrong, she might not actually make a living, maybe she secretly Temps or like fills out online surveys a lot, but couldn’t find a mention of another job.)  She skipped grad school and opted to work as a vegetable farmer instead. To totally contradict my rage fest of early this week about playwrights being tossed under the bus for writing for TV: perhaps there is something to be said for the inspiration that comes from a simpler life?

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