Then the editor wanted photos of me. The first batch of photos illustrated some of my creativity. He didn't want them - he's the editor - instead he wanted photos of me throughout my lifespan.
I wrote back, Will do.... but I don't like to advertise myself.
Here are the photos I wanted him to use.
I am in absolute terror that I can't paint that well again.
the same name.
HERE ARE THE PHOTOS I EMAILED HIM EARLIER TODAY.
Was at Mom's around dinner time. She's healing very slowly. I told her it will be several months before she's better. She's in lots of pain.
My sister Donna called while I was there. The three of us talked on the speaker phone. Here are some interesting things I learned.
The house on Grant Avenue in Willow Grove sold for 220. The owners had lowered the price.
I told Donna I had wrin a story about that house but titled it The House on Lincoln Avenue. Just liked the name better.
It was rejected by a dozen lit mags and finally was accepted by one called Quail Bell. I emailed it to her and she'll read it.
Also, I told Donna I had to take my blood sugar and pulled out my kit. It was a fine 131.
We agreed what a friggin pain in the ass the diabetes is.
My ex-boyfriend Simon had neuropathy in his feet bc he paid no attention to his diabetes - his feet felt like they were burning hot
And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to Scott's. He found a new film noir on YouTube we haven't seen. Cry Danger.
HE BUILT ME A ROOM
He built me a room
He built me a life
I lie in bed and stare
at the lipstick pink
walls. As kids we had
a pink upstairs bathroom
where I could listen to
Dad and Uncle Marvin
play ping-pong in
the basement. Pink
the color of the sands
in Bermuda – sift them
through your pecan-brown
hands – the lips of
jazz critic Stanley Crouch
and Miss Bev, too, Dan’s
preschool teacher who he
called “the one with the big
My new pink room is
where I lie in bed reading
and when lightning strikes,
I write down an idea
on a Habitat for Humanity
pad. Cashews? I’ve had a few
while watching The Blacklist
on the TV. If push came to
shove, I could live here a
few days, thanks to a Scrabble-
playin’ man named Ed.