Fuck hope.
I got a big fat rejection on Friday, for a grant I’d been—not counting on, I wasn't that confident. But hopeful about I guess.
What a bonkers human instinct. Hope!
For the past two years, I've been consumed with applying for things. Grants, screenwriting labs, residencies. Always reaching for a deadline to get me to the next draft. I was accepted to one terrific program, it's true. And I've made finalist for a few more. I've gotten some glowing rejections, which have kept me motivated, buoyed along by hope. (For the record, Friday's rejection was not one of those ones. It was kind, but devastating as I read and re-read it, parsing every word. Dumb that I've grown so attuned to the nuances of a rejection email.)
Anyhoo. Fuck hope. I need something more concrete.
I've been outlining a new project I plan to start writing this month. Tomorrow, in fact. I'm gonna write it quick and dirty, three pages a day if I can pull it off. I'm taking a new tack, working toward a deadline of my own making.
I'll keep you posted.
*****
This month in books: We went to hear Jenny Offill read at Skylight, and she signed a copy of Weather for R, "Viva la revolucion! Ha!" They had a brief, lively conversation about Extinction Rebellion, which they've both somewhat begrudgingly joined. I was struck dumb. Here's the crafter of these perfect sentences, right in front of me, and I'm supposed to make small talk?! Weather is great, of course. I'm trying to dole it out to myself in small quantities, no more than 20 pages in one sitting, or else I'd gobble it all up.
This month in movies (one old, one new): Last night we watched Allison Anders's Gas Food Lodging, a movie very much of its time, 1992, but also incredibly modern in its exploration of the lives and sex lives of a single mother and her two teenage daughters in the fictional town of Laramie, New Mexico. Though I'm 98% I'd never seen it before, the line "Laramie's a shithole. There's nothing there," rang so familiar. Did someone quote this to me, repeatedly, years ago?? Two nights before, it was Portrait of a Lady on Fire, now in theaters, which is set in 18th century Brittany. The movies are similar in spirit in many ways—both are rooted in the female experience and, yes, the female gaze—but in Portrait it's not men they're gazing at. Men are rendered all but irrelevant. (Hat tip to my friend M who pointed this out, thereby convincing me to see it.)
This month in tacos: I was lured to Onda by a photo of the Inside Out Turkey Quesadilla, which is delicious, no question. Hard to go wrong with fried cheese. Though I didn't quite get pastor flavors, and I couldn't tell the oyster mushrooms from the meat. It was the Koji-Marinated Satsuma Sweet Potato that stole the show. Garnished with a tangle of herbs, including, I think, mint, and served atop a pool of housemade crema, with heirloom corn tortillas, I'm counting this as a taco! We ate it in taco form, piling potatoes and herbs and crema into blue wrappers, and greedily wiping up the excess sauce. The restaurant, a new collaboration between Jessica Koslow of Sqirl fame, and Gabriela Cámara, a Mexican chef, is on the spendy side. And it's in Santa Monica. Wah wah. But I'd go back for that sweet potato. And for the Sprouting Kong’s Broccoli, served with soft pulled cheese and pickled green strawberries, the perfect bite of char and fat and briny tang.
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Forward this to someone, wouldja? Or, I dunno, tweet a screengrab. If you're seeing The Laramie Report for the first time, subscribe here to get it every month.
p.p.s. As always, here's your trusty taco map.
What a bonkers human instinct. Hope!
For the past two years, I've been consumed with applying for things. Grants, screenwriting labs, residencies. Always reaching for a deadline to get me to the next draft. I was accepted to one terrific program, it's true. And I've made finalist for a few more. I've gotten some glowing rejections, which have kept me motivated, buoyed along by hope. (For the record, Friday's rejection was not one of those ones. It was kind, but devastating as I read and re-read it, parsing every word. Dumb that I've grown so attuned to the nuances of a rejection email.)
Anyhoo. Fuck hope. I need something more concrete.
I've been outlining a new project I plan to start writing this month. Tomorrow, in fact. I'm gonna write it quick and dirty, three pages a day if I can pull it off. I'm taking a new tack, working toward a deadline of my own making.
I'll keep you posted.
*****
This month in books: We went to hear Jenny Offill read at Skylight, and she signed a copy of Weather for R, "Viva la revolucion! Ha!" They had a brief, lively conversation about Extinction Rebellion, which they've both somewhat begrudgingly joined. I was struck dumb. Here's the crafter of these perfect sentences, right in front of me, and I'm supposed to make small talk?! Weather is great, of course. I'm trying to dole it out to myself in small quantities, no more than 20 pages in one sitting, or else I'd gobble it all up.
This month in movies (one old, one new): Last night we watched Allison Anders's Gas Food Lodging, a movie very much of its time, 1992, but also incredibly modern in its exploration of the lives and sex lives of a single mother and her two teenage daughters in the fictional town of Laramie, New Mexico. Though I'm 98% I'd never seen it before, the line "Laramie's a shithole. There's nothing there," rang so familiar. Did someone quote this to me, repeatedly, years ago?? Two nights before, it was Portrait of a Lady on Fire, now in theaters, which is set in 18th century Brittany. The movies are similar in spirit in many ways—both are rooted in the female experience and, yes, the female gaze—but in Portrait it's not men they're gazing at. Men are rendered all but irrelevant. (Hat tip to my friend M who pointed this out, thereby convincing me to see it.)
This month in tacos: I was lured to Onda by a photo of the Inside Out Turkey Quesadilla, which is delicious, no question. Hard to go wrong with fried cheese. Though I didn't quite get pastor flavors, and I couldn't tell the oyster mushrooms from the meat. It was the Koji-Marinated Satsuma Sweet Potato that stole the show. Garnished with a tangle of herbs, including, I think, mint, and served atop a pool of housemade crema, with heirloom corn tortillas, I'm counting this as a taco! We ate it in taco form, piling potatoes and herbs and crema into blue wrappers, and greedily wiping up the excess sauce. The restaurant, a new collaboration between Jessica Koslow of Sqirl fame, and Gabriela Cámara, a Mexican chef, is on the spendy side. And it's in Santa Monica. Wah wah. But I'd go back for that sweet potato. And for the Sprouting Kong’s Broccoli, served with soft pulled cheese and pickled green strawberries, the perfect bite of char and fat and briny tang.
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Forward this to someone, wouldja? Or, I dunno, tweet a screengrab. If you're seeing The Laramie Report for the first time, subscribe here to get it every month.
p.p.s. As always, here's your trusty taco map.
Don't miss what's next. Subscribe to The Laramie Report: