Why be a writer at all, or even have a blog at all, if I don’t keep trying to find a new way to articulate the same thing over and over, just keep finding and finding new ways to Say it? I have a new way to describe how I feel re: procreation attempts that keeps pinging around my brain, and so I’ll leave it here. I feel like I’m a Shutterstock image of a woman turning her face to the Sun, she’s grateful, she’s positive and she’s teeming with her own dreams, she’s very simply happy to be alive, maybe she’s pretending she’s a bug on a rock, maybe she’s reminding herself that she’s small, but either way, her eyes are closed and she’s just happy there, and the Sun moves just so that it warms her face like a cookie and just as her lips move into a calm and trusting smile A GIANT’S HAND MADE OF HER OWN CALCIFIED HOPE AND ALSO WHAT FEELS LIKE STEEL COMES OUT OF NOWHERE AND BITCH SLAPS HER ACROSS THE FACE, and she’s stunned, but then sinks to the grass in search of her teeth, and finds them scattered in five miles each direction.

SO JUST PLEASE STAY TUNED FOR MY NEXT PLAY, BITCH SLAPPED BY HOPE, BROADWAY 2023, STARRING SARAH JESSICA PARKER AS ME AND AN ACTUAL 20 FT TALL TRANSFORMER AS MY HOPE.