Sublime

We were all, at one and the same time, people she knew and loved but also objects of study,

We had been listening to “Criminal” by Fiona Apple: Riley’s favorite song.

Writing songs is cathartic, but nothing compares to someone else responding to them. That feels like a relief. When I write, what I’m trying to do is make sense of something in my life; often it’s something that I’ve been unsuccessful at solving. So when people connect, it feels like they are saying, Yes, I understand, and no, you are not alone,

read Virginia Woolf’s “On Being Ill,” Audre Lorde’s The Cancer Journals, and the hybrid art journals of Frida Kahlo.

seventy-seven thousand “altgenres”

You spend too much time out here; it’s one of your escape hatches. Without admitting it, you’ve been building a little collection of these over the last few months—ever since around the time you turned forty-four. Maybe they’re starting to get out of hand. You’ve always been close with your best friend, Victoria, but suddenly you’re on the phone