Writer/editor. New Mexican tumbleweed blown east to skyscraper country.
Right now, I am working on a book about F. Scott Fitzgerald, Sheilah Graham, and Hollywood in the 1930s. It will also contain a lot of drinking, powder blue suits, dances at the Cocoanut Grove, betrayal, gossip columns, crazy ladies, secret Jews, film lot moguls, and Dorothy Parker quips at funerals. If the world is still around then, it should be out from Random House around 2014. So let's hope the Mayans were wrong.
If you want to say hi please do. Or find me in short form, here.
“para ti el banano madura al peso de tu dulce amor”
(for you, the banana matures under the weight of your sweet love)
“As part of my residency in Costa Rica I am presenting an installation/performance where I will be sleeping with a green banana bunch until it ripens with the aid of my body’s warmth.”—Naufus Ramirez-Figueroa
Via the excellent Wrong Distance, via MarieReich
Ripening is the new hugging?
