women, various
A few weeks ago I was in Mexico for work and everyone kept saying that my job seemed pretty nice. It is-- it is (sometimes) very nice. It is very nice when I'm eating huitlacoche quesadillas and posing for pictures in mineral pools. More on that later.
But it was also very nice, late last week, to sit in bed in Los Angeles in sweatpants with a writer I admire on the phone, asking her complicated, sometimes fairly intense questions about one of her books. More on that later, also.
For now, two interviews with other women I think are cool: Leah Guerrero, who has a skincare line called Brujita and an all-red bed, and Leigh Bardugo, whose book, Ninth House, I just fucking loved.
(Also, this weekend I had an until-the-bar-closes conversation with someone, and at one point he stopped short, horrified, and said "you're not going to WRITE about this, are you?" I don't know why this is, but it's always the ones I'm never going to write about who ask. Anyway, reminded me of my second-ever Tinyletter, way back when.)