so you think you can tumbl?

me: yeah i’ll just wait for the anvil to fall on my head

brother: anvil? what’s that? advil? or do you mean ant-ville? like an ant farm?

where do the squirrels on my windowsill get those hamburger buns every day? and why won’t they share?

i’m really into writing in my room with this lukewarm coffee and the sound of the heavy rain.  and occasionally checking on the leak in the kitchen that trickles down our brick wall like a little, pathetic waterfall.  or like some toy in a therapist’s office.

this is so post-college. i wish ethan hawke was here.

super mesmerized by the squirrel hanging upside down by its feet, like a bat, on the bar against my window…licking my xmas lights…..

its stomach looks so soft.

And although it did occur to me to call the desk and ask that the air conditioner be turned off, I never called, because I did not know how much to tip whoever might come—was anyone ever so young? I am here to tell you that someone was. All I could do during those years was talk long-distance to the boy I already knew I would never marry in the spring. I would stay in New York, I told him, just six months, and I could see the Brooklyn Bridge from my window. As it turned out the bridge was the Triborough, and I stayed eight years.

“Yet married women are more likely to suffer from depression than single women are.  According to Gilbert, married women are not as successful in their careers as single women.  Married women are arguably less healthy than single women.  Married women, until recently, were more likely to die a violent death than single women— usually, at the hands of their own husbands.  Sociologists, Gilbert claims, call this phenomenon “the ‘Marriage Benefit Imbalance’— a tidy nickname for an almost freakishly doleful conclusion: that women generally lose in the exchange of marriage vows, while men win big.”

THANKS FOR MAILING ME THIS ARTICLE YOU CLIPPED FROM THE NEW YORKER, MOM.