Yes, that’s me in all of my 1983-toothless truth. I’ve never looked better, flaunting my unconventional Aquarian spirit. That’s code for I didn’t need to fit in. There are so many things I want to tell that version of myself. Like–it’s okay to want to fit in sometimes, and one day your unconventional ways will serve you well. Find the balance. If you have a rebel spirit, honor it, but don’t run yourself ragged always trying to stay in that place. You’re allowed to feel like you belong once in a while.
Dave Grohl has written one of the best memoirs I’ve ever read, and I cannot recommend it enough. The Storyteller. Dave holds nothing back, isn’t afraid to come across as vulnerable, and his memories are told with texture. You’re there with him, pounding those drumheads like your entire existence depends on it. Which is why, beginning next Monday, I’m using his memoir as my mentor/anchor text for my adult writing course. I can’t use every single chapter, so I have chosen my favorites as a focus per week. My students better buckle up. It’s not going to be pretty at times. It’ll be very run-with-the-memory-until-you-can’t-anymore in the best sense possible.
Over the course of the past two or three years I’ve made four new friends with the same first initial. And each one of them feels like someone I perhaps knew long ago in another time and place. I was bombarded from Saturn–she threw the “S” people down and showed me:
One, I absolutely was in a jail cell with, after protesting something important, likely in the early 1900s. We laughed and felt no regret over our passion for the cause.
Another one was definitely my numerologist and writing partner–we’d sit on the bench in the English countryside and sip tea over characters and their dreams. I suspect that was even further back in time.
The third one was my sister, for sure. We’d sneak out at night and find the nearest Public House There, we’d tell tales surrounded by men and beers, as the women clutched their pearls and we entertained the room with our homespun stories. France.
And finally, the fourth “S” was my town witch counterpart. We’d whip up tinctures, balms, and nostrums for the townfolk, likely in Sicily or Italy itself. She and I go the farthest back in time.
There are just some people that walk into our lives whom we connect to with ease, and perhaps this is why. Or…maybe, I’m just overly imaginative…but that’s too easy. To my “S” folks–I’m so glad we found each other here because life is hard. Friends matter.
If you feel like a magnet toward some people and can’t shake them, it might be that you did know them once before—in whatever way you believe–from your subconcsious, your art, or perhaps, like I said, in your past existences.
Black Licorice, out next Tuesday, is all about hard friendships, present-day. Freddi is terrible at it. When her first best friend, Court abandons her, things get worse. Until she meets Lorna. But even then, life feels complicated. Music breathes into this book, as does the ocean, Skee-Ball, and smashing objects for fun. Here is the link to purchase the book. Inked in Gray Press–Kota…you’re magical.
Speaking of magical…if you click HERE, you will be lead to a new poetry collection that exceeds all expectations. It defies all you think you know about what a poem can do. Click. You know you want to!
I’m also proud to say that Laverne and Shirley scurry around in my book in various ways, and here we’ve just lost the legend, Cindy Williams. For you, Shirley: LINK
Keep those sitcoms alive in your art, my fellow writers.
Enjoy the beautiful teenage voice for this month’s edition of PEAR.
By Julianna W.
We are the Good Girls
We do as we are told
We’re aiming for perfection
But it gets a little old.
Succeeding is essential,
So we work for every A
We measure up to standards:
We made no mistakes today.
We act as we’re expected to
We’re humble when we score
But rarely do we ever think,
Who is all this for?
We compare ourselves to one another
We cannot be outshone
We like to stick together
But really, we’re alone.
We think of our accomplishments
Each time we’re asked anew,
Do we like ourselves? Well…
To be good, we must be great at what we do.
We’re unworthy, undeserving
If we cannot be the best
We toil to be flawless
Good Girls can never rest.