My dear and true friend is an acupuncturist and teacher in LA and his lecture this week is on using the deepest level of meridians. He wanted to make the lecture feel more personal and from the heart and asked if I could paint something that would accompany the presentation, sew some love into the words, like a needle and thread. He told me that the idea of the 8 Extras is that there is a place in you where you have never been wounded, a sanctuary of sureness, seamlessness, tranquility and confidence. It’s the real you, the wonder and grace that called you out of the stars and brought you to life.
Here are 8 Extras peeking out from behind an orchid on a Berlin morning.
I love you @pokeacupuncture Berlin, Germany
Exactly 2 years ago- and just one day after a *very* lonely Valentine’s Day- I met my sweetie4life. Which is to say, things can change in an instant and your story is always being rewritten. Lucky, loved and loving. Thank you @attawalpa 💖
Every January, despite knowing where it will lead and being almost politically opposed to lifestyle curation, I decide to become a lady who makes her own coffee in a to go mug and rises at 7am to journal and do small muscle building exercises. Then, without fail, I stay up until 4am watching The Traitors, wake in a flurry of books and papers, scoop the cat litter with no pants on and carry 2 purses when one will do. Bless up, 2023!!! London, United Kingdom
Lena Dunham on Barbara Gordon’s “I’m Dancing As Fast As I Can”, Kittens, Using a Cane, and more.
@lenadunham
~link in bio~ London, United Kingdom
Lena Dunham on Barbara Gordon’s “I’m Dancing As Fast As I Can”, Kittens, Using a Cane, and more.
@lenadunham
~link in bio~ London, United Kingdom
A few days ago, in that glowy quiet after Christmas, I was in line at the pharmacy behind a woman asking question after question about the available nicotine replacement options. Finally she turned to me, holding both the patches and lozenges she had bought, smiled sheepishly and said “you’ve gotta try, right?” That does seem to be the spirit of this holiday, waking up not only to a new year but a new you, transformed from the inside out. You’ve gotta try, right? But I’ve been dogged by a feeling, as real as any of the parts of myself I “should” be remodeling: I’m so fucking sick of trying. I’m not sick of doing, or being, or any other action verbs. But I’m sick of *trying*- the word that evokes a hamster wheel, running and running only to find yourself still here, still stuck or in pain or in fear. Still just trying. Trying to be sunny but not cloying, healthy but not obsessive, honest but not offensive, trusting but not gullible. I’ve tried to be tidy but still express myself, powerful but non-threatening, loyal but not a lap-dog, enlightened without sounding like a self-help book. And every time I’ve failed, I’ve said: “I’m trying.” Trying to squeeze through the narrow corridor of good habits and successful resolutions. But if at once you don’t succeed, what if you didn’t have to try but could just *be* again? It’s not giving up- it’s giving in to who you are and what your actual gifts are, your true powers, letting go of the compare and contrast. Maybe that starts with the language we use to describe our efforts. So, new year same me: hello, I’m Lena. I live to write, I have an uncanny knack for names I don’t need to remember, there are eight different shades of green paint in my house and I’ve listened to Prince and wept at least once a month in 2022. I tried to allocate my time thoughtfully, greet the day with enthusiasm and not get snippy with my mother. I tried to sleep before midnight and clear my mind by walking. By the metric of trying, I failed. But if I’m just being, then it’s a dance. It’s back and forth, in and out, possible and impossible. And it’s all part of it. Yes, 2023, you can have this dance.
This is a picture of a very important person- so proud of this little noodle/wise old sage/dearest pal for their @criticschoice nomination for best young actor for Catherine Called Birdy. B, we are all so lucky to be in your orbit. You can’t help but be honest onscreen and honest in life, and it’s one of the million reasons I cherish you. Such a joy to watch you at the beginning of a life of art.
This is a picture of a very important person- so proud of this little noodle/wise old sage/dearest pal for their @criticschoice nomination for best young actor for Catherine Called Birdy. B, we are all so lucky to be in your orbit. You can’t help but be honest onscreen and honest in life, and it’s one of the million reasons I cherish you. Such a joy to watch you at the beginning of a life of art.
This is a picture of a very important person- so proud of this little noodle/wise old sage/dearest pal for their @criticschoice nomination for best young actor for Catherine Called Birdy. B, we are all so lucky to be in your orbit. You can’t help but be honest onscreen and honest in life, and it’s one of the million reasons I cherish you. Such a joy to watch you at the beginning of a life of art.
This is a picture of a very important person- so proud of this little noodle/wise old sage/dearest pal for their @criticschoice nomination for best young actor for Catherine Called Birdy. B, we are all so lucky to be in your orbit. You can’t help but be honest onscreen and honest in life, and it’s one of the million reasons I cherish you. Such a joy to watch you at the beginning of a life of art.
This is a picture of a very important person- so proud of this little noodle/wise old sage/dearest pal for their @criticschoice nomination for best young actor for Catherine Called Birdy. B, we are all so lucky to be in your orbit. You can’t help but be honest onscreen and honest in life, and it’s one of the million reasons I cherish you. Such a joy to watch you at the beginning of a life of art.
This is a picture of a very important person- so proud of this little noodle/wise old sage/dearest pal for their @criticschoice nomination for best young actor for Catherine Called Birdy. B, we are all so lucky to be in your orbit. You can’t help but be honest onscreen and honest in life, and it’s one of the million reasons I cherish you. Such a joy to watch you at the beginning of a life of art.
When I was younger, I thought the first person confessional essay was going to save us. As women, it seemed like the only way to force the world to understand our gripes, fears and needs, to pass information and normalize experience. It was more than a genre to many of us- it was a religion. Often that hope was weaponized by a world not ready for stark female pleasure, pain and rage. So I’m not sure it ended up being the key to liberation- many of the old stalwarts of the genre have moved on, but I’m still here. What *did* liberate me was realizing I could empathize with characters in a way that made even fiction feel true. Thank you Los Angeles Times for allowing me to write about my favorite thing: writing. Link in bio to read.
Some trivia: wearing all my mother’s clothes without asking first, thank you mom!!!
📸 @celestesloman / For the Times #TheEnvelope
An honor to be back with my NYC independent film community, the one that raised me, at the Gotham Awards. I love independent film and New York City- even when I stray (and she does stray) I always come home. Shout out to my beloved @christopherkane for the epic witch caftan and Zitomer pharmacy for my third leg, because for some women 2 is #notenough 🦯❤️🔥🦄📹 #GothamAwards New York, New York
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
1. Thankful for the silver hairs in my bangs- I never imagined I’d be old enough to find them. It feels like having outrun a bear (except I’ve never run anywhere- i outsat a bear and it got bored.)
2. Thankful that I can go into my mother’s bathroom and use her tweezers and her lotion and her cotton pads and sometimes her tooth brush, just like I could with both my grandmothers. Women sharing product is intimacy defined.
3. Thankful that I’ve fallen back in love with writing. Passion became obligation and I waited and it became passion again. (I’m told this is the same idea behind very long marriages.)
4. Thankful for the medical experts who guide me so that my body can do much of what I ask it to, and the people who understand when it can’t.
5. Thankful to know the power and also the limits of ambition, and that my love language is “a very hard project that is slow to yield results.”
6. Thankful for cohabitation, collaboration and reiteration. All the -ations (even procrastination, which has its place.)
7. Thankful that animals always have to get up in the morning, so I do too.
8. Thankful that every year I trust myself more and trust common wisdom less. (Highly recommend!)
9. Thankful to all the women I’ve eaten dinner with and all the ones who have let me cancel plans. You know who you are.
10. Thankful for all of you- your words, your time, your “savage reads” and “piping hot tea” and “slays” and “iconic lewks” and whatever the internet words for brilliance and eccentricity are.
11. Thankful for Dateline. Keith Morrison is my daddy and also my son. Viral Reels in Texas
Jimmy DeSana moves through my earliest memories- when I was born he and my mother didn’t share a studio anymore, but they were still partners in crime. It was clear to me my mother had my father- a partner in traditional ways- and Jimmy, who was her partner in the more mysterious pursuit of art. Their dialogue- the dialogue of photography, the conversations they had through their cameras- are the images that I see behind my eyelids when I shut them at night, a visual language older than I am. Jimmy- a quiet but searingly intense man of immense physical beauty and explosive creativity- died of AIDS in 1990. While I understood the gaping hole it left in my mother’s life, in all of our lives, it took me a long time to fully grasp the enormity of the creative loss- at 40 (4 years older than I am now) he had hardly put a dent in the body of work he was capable of. But- knowing that at that time there was no successful treatment for HIV/AIDS and that his time in this particular life was limited- he worked with a diligence and passion to complete the narrative. When he passed- on a very clear day in July, surrounded by love and having looked squarely at illness and death through his ever-observant camera- he left his estate to my mother @lauriesimmons and for the last 32 years she has been diligent as well, keeping her best friend alive by nurturing the work and urging people to understand its importance. Now, thanks to his show at the Brooklyn Museum- Submission- his place in the canon is being properly understood. It moves me immensely to see people, particularly young queer people, find this work that has lived in our home for so long. It moves me to see my mother’s commitment and the extent of her friendship, that it has outlasted death by many years. It moves me to see Jimmy recognized. I encourage anyone who is in the New York area to head to the Brooklyn Museum, curated by @drewmsawyer. Link in bio, and above are a smattering of favorite Jimmy works (including a pretty dreamy portrait of my mama.)
Jimmy DeSana moves through my earliest memories- when I was born he and my mother didn’t share a studio anymore, but they were still partners in crime. It was clear to me my mother had my father- a partner in traditional ways- and Jimmy, who was her partner in the more mysterious pursuit of art. Their dialogue- the dialogue of photography, the conversations they had through their cameras- are the images that I see behind my eyelids when I shut them at night, a visual language older than I am. Jimmy- a quiet but searingly intense man of immense physical beauty and explosive creativity- died of AIDS in 1990. While I understood the gaping hole it left in my mother’s life, in all of our lives, it took me a long time to fully grasp the enormity of the creative loss- at 40 (4 years older than I am now) he had hardly put a dent in the body of work he was capable of. But- knowing that at that time there was no successful treatment for HIV/AIDS and that his time in this particular life was limited- he worked with a diligence and passion to complete the narrative. When he passed- on a very clear day in July, surrounded by love and having looked squarely at illness and death through his ever-observant camera- he left his estate to my mother @lauriesimmons and for the last 32 years she has been diligent as well, keeping her best friend alive by nurturing the work and urging people to understand its importance. Now, thanks to his show at the Brooklyn Museum- Submission- his place in the canon is being properly understood. It moves me immensely to see people, particularly young queer people, find this work that has lived in our home for so long. It moves me to see my mother’s commitment and the extent of her friendship, that it has outlasted death by many years. It moves me to see Jimmy recognized. I encourage anyone who is in the New York area to head to the Brooklyn Museum, curated by @drewmsawyer. Link in bio, and above are a smattering of favorite Jimmy works (including a pretty dreamy portrait of my mama.)
