It’s good.

I left work early on Monday to go to The Moth. I like it there. Storytelling’s something I can do well (women can’t tell stories well – no no no not true.) Not social storytelling – because social-storytellers are hams and needy-to-talky’s, whereas going to a place where you expect some humble non-stand-upy thing (with that perfect lighting, music, bar and people with poet faces) well, it just works better. Where everything – EVERYTHING – is allowed and Ok.

I wrote a story about it (I’m talking about something else, now.) And I don’t know. I think I wrote it pretty well, coughing up the last of that unright feeling. My brain is quite the sex symbol. Kinda like… I’m thin-skinned and mustn’t be messed about, but I’ll also…um… fight

Who do i show the story to? I don’t know. I kinda just wrote it (edited it) then put it away. Just, like, put it away. In my own little Raiders of Lost Ark Museum. Don’t really need it. Just like GrrrrrrYeahhhh That’s a fucking good story, Anoush. HEY! THANKS!An odd feeling finally purged and I feel lighter.

As someone whose lower back always holds rhino-sized tension and whose stomach feels like it’s been grinded against concrete, I… Oh, I have no idea how to end that one. The set-up just took so much… I’ll just leave this one half in the air, then, I guess.

The week’s not going fast enough. Today feels like Friday and my bedroom needs to explode and I’m feeling, like, fat. I don’t say things like “I’m awkward.” Cause it’s not true. It’s not even cute to say. It’s not even NEWto say. I’m a Nervous Nelly <- that’s much better than I’m Awkward.

I got invited to the screening of the new Danish film we’re distributing on Monday at Scandinavia House. The image of me lightly trotting down Park avenue on Monday night with the mounted film poster in my new heels, well, that’s an image i’m looking forward to… Embodying? Being in? Encompassing? You know what I mean.


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