When I was a little girl, my first therapist asked me to describe a particularly complicated emotion. When I couldn’t, she put a pad of paper and a tray of watercolors in front of me and told me to show her that way. What came out was ostensibly a self-portrait (only I’d given myself flowing pink hair, a swan-like neck and Christy Turlington’s bee stung lips) of a girl crying fat, turquoise tears- turns out it wasn’t really that complicated. From that day forward, I painted while we talked, a brilliant distraction that had me spilling my deepest secrets in no time as I dashed off minimal nudes and wedding dress designs. Recently, she sent me some of the images- they don’t look very different than what I’m painting now. My father always says artists spend their whole lives working out one idea. I wouldn’t call myself an artist- at least not in that way. My parents are visual artists, and it was the engine our home ran on. Writing became my medium of choice, not only because I loved it but because it was a key mode of self-differentiation. I stopped painting until 2018, when–at rehab and having had all sharpened writing implements removed as a matter of course–I found myself wandering into the “art therapy” room, where a woman in a jelly bean patterned dress and earrings shaped like autumn leaves sat alone. She looked so delighted to have a taker that she brought out all her wares. But it was the watercolors that caught my eye, the memories of those afternoons on the floor in my therapist’s office, painting “self-portraits” that looked nothing like the third grader with the blunt cut Betty Boop bangs who sat in front of her. Since then, I’ve painted steadily–often to prepare myself for a particularly grueling stretch of memory-summoning. I love how messy watercolors are, and that once you’ve made the mess–there’s no way to fix it but to lean in, to say “fuck off, I meant to do that.” The watercolors birthed Famesick, or vice versa. Here are some of the images. Famesick even includes one in its opening pages, a little nod to the women who told me to paint and tricked me into telling them the truth. Link in bio to pre-order!
When I was a little girl, my first therapist asked me to describe a particularly complicated emotion. When I couldn’t, she put a pad of paper and a tray of watercolors in front of me and told me to show her that way. What came out was ostensibly a self-portrait (only I’d given myself flowing pink hair, a swan-like neck and Christy Turlington’s bee stung lips) of a girl crying fat, turquoise tears- turns out it wasn’t really that complicated. From that day forward, I painted while we talked, a brilliant distraction that had me spilling my deepest secrets in no time as I dashed off minimal nudes and wedding dress designs. Recently, she sent me some of the images- they don’t look very different than what I’m painting now. My father always says artists spend their whole lives working out one idea. I wouldn’t call myself an artist- at least not in that way. My parents are visual artists, and it was the engine our home ran on. Writing became my medium of choice, not only because I loved it but because it was a key mode of self-differentiation. I stopped painting until 2018, when–at rehab and having had all sharpened writing implements removed as a matter of course–I found myself wandering into the “art therapy” room, where a woman in a jelly bean patterned dress and earrings shaped like autumn leaves sat alone. She looked so delighted to have a taker that she brought out all her wares. But it was the watercolors that caught my eye, the memories of those afternoons on the floor in my therapist’s office, painting “self-portraits” that looked nothing like the third grader with the blunt cut Betty Boop bangs who sat in front of her. Since then, I’ve painted steadily–often to prepare myself for a particularly grueling stretch of memory-summoning. I love how messy watercolors are, and that once you’ve made the mess–there’s no way to fix it but to lean in, to say “fuck off, I meant to do that.” The watercolors birthed Famesick, or vice versa. Here are some of the images. Famesick even includes one in its opening pages, a little nod to the women who told me to paint and tricked me into telling them the truth. Link in bio to pre-order!
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
Victor is one year old this month, and in honor of his big milestone I wanted to share some images of delight from my first year as a pig guardian. I went from one to two to four, made huge changes to my life and home, because I fell so deeply in love with these profoundly feeling creatures. I used to think I was too busy, overwhelmed and physically limited to be a “farm girl” (I mean, using a rake!?)- but it’s true that if something makes you happy, hours open up in the day and new real estate is unlocked in your mind (never dreamed I would have so much to say about hoof care.) I even found my body start to surprise me with what it was capable of- though I still need some help with the mucking of it all… Pigs are prey animals. From birth, rife with genetically coded fear, they move through the world in an essential state of panic (relate?) So when you unlock their trust, it’s deeply gratifying. It’s also fun and cute that they literally don’t give a fuck about pleasing you- and yet, they so often do. Pigs have an intelligence that borders on disarming, a willfulness that will remind you of the most iconic teenage girls, better senses of humor than any guy you’ll EVER meet on Hinge, and a unique language it takes time to learn. I never want to be without them in my life. I’ve tried a lot of kinds of therapy. But nothing has healed my nervous system quite like loving and being loved by pigs. Happy birthday Victor, my big strong brute! And thank you to Cherry, Leslie, Lila and all the future swine showing me how- even if you’re misunderstood and traumatized- to be brave enough to roll over and show your belly.
This cover image—part of an Alice in Wonderland series by my friend Anna Gaskell—has spoken to me since I first saw it at ten years old. Back then, it captured the confusion of being a young girl in a big world. Now it means something else: falling down the rabbit hole and wondering what it will take to emerge, seeing yourself tumble upside down and questioning whether the landscape you once knew is still the same one you’ll be returning to. I’m always drawn to the hands, reaching weakly, as if they might grab the air and climb back into the light. Famesick is about that return—the luck, the work, and the moments that remind us we actually want to rejoin the living. Thank you to Anna and my king @teddyblanks for this cover. I can’t wait to hear your stories too. Because that’s what a memoir is: a story that hopefully unlocks some of yours. Pre-order Famesick at the link in bio!
When I first began this book, I’d been out of rehab for 30 days. I was in the cloud of delirium that comes with new sobriety — the world was suddenly so LOUD, and I thought that meant I knew what I was hearing. If you’d told me then that the writing process would take me through the next seven years, I probably would have ripped up my contract and chucked my laptop in the tub. Throughout my twenties, writing was all pure immediacy. I’d have an experience, put some version of it through the filter of fantasy, and it would be playing on television six months later. Writing was how I processed as it was happening. I hadn’t lived enough life to deal with it in retrospect. I didn’t understand the value of time — to heal us, to make sense of where we’ve been, to actually change the patterns we keep replaying in our work and our art. The gift this book has given me over the last seven years was that it was always there. No matter what changed — my location, my body, my mind — there was a constant: this place I could go to try and make sense of the story. When we finally set a publication date for Famesick, I felt something like grief. One of my steadiest companions was leaving. But it’s time. And I’m so excited to be able to tell you, in the best way I know how, about: 💫 years of impossible magic and years I thought I wouldn’t survive 💫 illness and addiction and heartbreak 💫 the lessons I no longer feel ashamed of having had to learn Famesick is, ostensibly, about the years 2010–2020 — a decade in which my life changed profoundly and permanently, in which nearly every strand of my DNA reconstituted itself. But it’s also about illness as teacher, body as tattletale, our societal relationship to women on the edge, and the conditions that create art vs. the conditions that create happiness. (Also: being in Hollywood while watching from the sidelines, like a goth girl at the cheerleader’s slumber party, wondering if she can call her mom from the landline without being overheard.) It’s about me — but whenever I write about me, I hope, deeply, that it’s also about you. Pre-order Famesick at the link in bio. I can’t wait to see you in April, book in hand, ready to talk.
When I first began this book, I’d been out of rehab for 30 days. I was in the cloud of delirium that comes with new sobriety — the world was suddenly so LOUD, and I thought that meant I knew what I was hearing. If you’d told me then that the writing process would take me through the next seven years, I probably would have ripped up my contract and chucked my laptop in the tub. Throughout my twenties, writing was all pure immediacy. I’d have an experience, put some version of it through the filter of fantasy, and it would be playing on television six months later. Writing was how I processed as it was happening. I hadn’t lived enough life to deal with it in retrospect. I didn’t understand the value of time — to heal us, to make sense of where we’ve been, to actually change the patterns we keep replaying in our work and our art. The gift this book has given me over the last seven years was that it was always there. No matter what changed — my location, my body, my mind — there was a constant: this place I could go to try and make sense of the story. When we finally set a publication date for Famesick, I felt something like grief. One of my steadiest companions was leaving. But it’s time. And I’m so excited to be able to tell you, in the best way I know how, about: 💫 years of impossible magic and years I thought I wouldn’t survive 💫 illness and addiction and heartbreak 💫 the lessons I no longer feel ashamed of having had to learn Famesick is, ostensibly, about the years 2010–2020 — a decade in which my life changed profoundly and permanently, in which nearly every strand of my DNA reconstituted itself. But it’s also about illness as teacher, body as tattletale, our societal relationship to women on the edge, and the conditions that create art vs. the conditions that create happiness. (Also: being in Hollywood while watching from the sidelines, like a goth girl at the cheerleader’s slumber party, wondering if she can call her mom from the landline without being overheard.) It’s about me — but whenever I write about me, I hope, deeply, that it’s also about you. Pre-order Famesick at the link in bio. I can’t wait to see you in April, book in hand, ready to talk.
Nora Ephron made me fall in love with romcoms before I’d ever experienced romance. She told me that the best ones always seem to be about love, but really say something about the era in which we live. At the same time I fell for Nora onscreen, I fell for @natalieportman — and in real life, I fell so much harder. Thank you my girl, for being the muse of the century and the friend of a lifetime. And it’s not just Nat- she’s here with the divine @markruffalo, @rolemodel, @rashidajones, @tramell.tillman, and Miss @megryan, ready to break your heart, put it back together, and scandalize your mother (who will then sneak away to watch). Thank you to this cast and crew, for a classic unforgettable New York summer, and to @netflix… see you real soon 😍💦🥹
Since 2019, Bestie @arnoldfriend6 and I have been making a podcast called The C-Word- and no, it doesn’t stand for cute, though look at her fucking face, it’s so lovely. But you know what’s even more lovely? Her brilliant mind- she’s a historian of bad behavior, and on our show we deep dive into the lives of women society has called crazy (something we will never do!) Whether you want to go in the way back machine to discuss Mary Shelley and her monster or you want full-hearted analyses of modern figures of frenzy like Amy Winehouse or WWE’s own Chyna- to name just a few-we’re here, just breaking it down, and often delving into our own experiences in the process (though no one has EVER called us crazy- we’re nice girls, papa!) For the first time, The C-Word is not behind a Paywall, and we’re going to be re-releasing our massive store of eps… and, if you behave, making some more… So follow and listen, wherever you get your Podcasts. Link in bio.
Since 2019, Bestie @arnoldfriend6 and I have been making a podcast called The C-Word- and no, it doesn’t stand for cute, though look at her fucking face, it’s so lovely. But you know what’s even more lovely? Her brilliant mind- she’s a historian of bad behavior, and on our show we deep dive into the lives of women society has called crazy (something we will never do!) Whether you want to go in the way back machine to discuss Mary Shelley and her monster or you want full-hearted analyses of modern figures of frenzy like Amy Winehouse or WWE’s own Chyna- to name just a few-we’re here, just breaking it down, and often delving into our own experiences in the process (though no one has EVER called us crazy- we’re nice girls, papa!) For the first time, The C-Word is not behind a Paywall, and we’re going to be re-releasing our massive store of eps… and, if you behave, making some more… So follow and listen, wherever you get your Podcasts. Link in bio.
Since 2019, Bestie @arnoldfriend6 and I have been making a podcast called The C-Word- and no, it doesn’t stand for cute, though look at her fucking face, it’s so lovely. But you know what’s even more lovely? Her brilliant mind- she’s a historian of bad behavior, and on our show we deep dive into the lives of women society has called crazy (something we will never do!) Whether you want to go in the way back machine to discuss Mary Shelley and her monster or you want full-hearted analyses of modern figures of frenzy like Amy Winehouse or WWE’s own Chyna- to name just a few-we’re here, just breaking it down, and often delving into our own experiences in the process (though no one has EVER called us crazy- we’re nice girls, papa!) For the first time, The C-Word is not behind a Paywall, and we’re going to be re-releasing our massive store of eps… and, if you behave, making some more… So follow and listen, wherever you get your Podcasts. Link in bio.
Since 2019, Bestie @arnoldfriend6 and I have been making a podcast called The C-Word- and no, it doesn’t stand for cute, though look at her fucking face, it’s so lovely. But you know what’s even more lovely? Her brilliant mind- she’s a historian of bad behavior, and on our show we deep dive into the lives of women society has called crazy (something we will never do!) Whether you want to go in the way back machine to discuss Mary Shelley and her monster or you want full-hearted analyses of modern figures of frenzy like Amy Winehouse or WWE’s own Chyna- to name just a few-we’re here, just breaking it down, and often delving into our own experiences in the process (though no one has EVER called us crazy- we’re nice girls, papa!) For the first time, The C-Word is not behind a Paywall, and we’re going to be re-releasing our massive store of eps… and, if you behave, making some more… So follow and listen, wherever you get your Podcasts. Link in bio.
Since 2019, Bestie @arnoldfriend6 and I have been making a podcast called The C-Word- and no, it doesn’t stand for cute, though look at her fucking face, it’s so lovely. But you know what’s even more lovely? Her brilliant mind- she’s a historian of bad behavior, and on our show we deep dive into the lives of women society has called crazy (something we will never do!) Whether you want to go in the way back machine to discuss Mary Shelley and her monster or you want full-hearted analyses of modern figures of frenzy like Amy Winehouse or WWE’s own Chyna- to name just a few-we’re here, just breaking it down, and often delving into our own experiences in the process (though no one has EVER called us crazy- we’re nice girls, papa!) For the first time, The C-Word is not behind a Paywall, and we’re going to be re-releasing our massive store of eps… and, if you behave, making some more… So follow and listen, wherever you get your Podcasts. Link in bio.
Since 2019, Bestie @arnoldfriend6 and I have been making a podcast called The C-Word- and no, it doesn’t stand for cute, though look at her fucking face, it’s so lovely. But you know what’s even more lovely? Her brilliant mind- she’s a historian of bad behavior, and on our show we deep dive into the lives of women society has called crazy (something we will never do!) Whether you want to go in the way back machine to discuss Mary Shelley and her monster or you want full-hearted analyses of modern figures of frenzy like Amy Winehouse or WWE’s own Chyna- to name just a few-we’re here, just breaking it down, and often delving into our own experiences in the process (though no one has EVER called us crazy- we’re nice girls, papa!) For the first time, The C-Word is not behind a Paywall, and we’re going to be re-releasing our massive store of eps… and, if you behave, making some more… So follow and listen, wherever you get your Podcasts. Link in bio.
