“ I thought about a life lived inside a net of insults and how it’s not a fit subject because all lives are lived inside the insult of having to end.” oh man. That’s really beautiful. Let’s fuck it all up.
I am disgusted with the condescending attitude towards older women (or people, to be fair). Why is it cute to be old? Why is it adorable to insist that you deserve respect? I rage with you.
I love your writing. It is superbly delicate and harsh, self effacing and protective. Descriptive in ways so surprising in your use of language. You use metaphors never imagined. I look for them gleefully. Sometimes it is difficult to finish a story, because I look for these metaphors like Hirschfeld NINA's. You go deep and come up for air. Just when I feel your vanity is too much, you hit me with candor and I feel, yeah maybe she doesn't think she's all that or she's had some deep sadness and profound loss. I'm hooked.
What gets me is all the "honeys," generally from waitresses and supermarket checkers. These moments generate a deadly combo of revulsion and class anxiety.
*Loooove this so much! I have been contemplating lately how age is the last acceptable bias. Laurie illuminates the intersectionality of femaleness in a deeply vulnerable way that strikes me as personal to the author and to this reader. I mean, this line ... "If you are a female human—and many other kinds of human—your life is a trail of insults that leads to someone telling you what you can eat."
I have stopped being silent. I admit, sometimes, I leave people twisting in the wind to interpret my comeback, "How trite and insignificant". I am 61 and damned proud of it. I wear what I want to wear, and say what I want to say (I do like to put peace out into the world, but peaceful does not mean I lay myself down for others to walk on or over). As my therapist said, "Damn Mary, you are kicking ass and taking names".
One of my favorite novels, Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively, opens with a scene where a sleeping elderly woman in a nursing home overhears the staff talking about her: "Was she someone, once?"
The net of insults just expands until we die. Apparently.
“ I thought about a life lived inside a net of insults and how it’s not a fit subject because all lives are lived inside the insult of having to end.” oh man. That’s really beautiful. Let’s fuck it all up.
I am disgusted with the condescending attitude towards older women (or people, to be fair). Why is it cute to be old? Why is it adorable to insist that you deserve respect? I rage with you.
I love your writing. It is superbly delicate and harsh, self effacing and protective. Descriptive in ways so surprising in your use of language. You use metaphors never imagined. I look for them gleefully. Sometimes it is difficult to finish a story, because I look for these metaphors like Hirschfeld NINA's. You go deep and come up for air. Just when I feel your vanity is too much, you hit me with candor and I feel, yeah maybe she doesn't think she's all that or she's had some deep sadness and profound loss. I'm hooked.
What gets me is all the "honeys," generally from waitresses and supermarket checkers. These moments generate a deadly combo of revulsion and class anxiety.
Brilliant writing! My favorite part: “Heartwarming chucks under the chins of older women for their pluck and gumption”
*Loooove this so much! I have been contemplating lately how age is the last acceptable bias. Laurie illuminates the intersectionality of femaleness in a deeply vulnerable way that strikes me as personal to the author and to this reader. I mean, this line ... "If you are a female human—and many other kinds of human—your life is a trail of insults that leads to someone telling you what you can eat."
So good, Laurie!
I have known Laurie since she was a tadpole and she has gotten more and more beautiful with age. So happy to see her here!
I really loved this one. Hit the spot today
“Even though another broken compass is mapping directions for my life.” Love this. Is it from POSTCARDS?
I have stopped being silent. I admit, sometimes, I leave people twisting in the wind to interpret my comeback, "How trite and insignificant". I am 61 and damned proud of it. I wear what I want to wear, and say what I want to say (I do like to put peace out into the world, but peaceful does not mean I lay myself down for others to walk on or over). As my therapist said, "Damn Mary, you are kicking ass and taking names".
One of my favorite novels, Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively, opens with a scene where a sleeping elderly woman in a nursing home overhears the staff talking about her: "Was she someone, once?"
The net of insults just expands until we die. Apparently.
Stunning writing, Laurie! So thought-provoking -- really enjoyed this to start my day.
Your pierce is powerful and full of a kind of understanding I don’t have, yet. I hope to. And an underlying burn that I admire. Thank you!
All I can say is WOW!
So, so true.
“If you are a female human—and many other kinds of human—your life is a trail of insults that leads to someone telling you what you can eat.” ❤️❤️❤️