Authentalicious, indeed.

I guess along with being hot as hell, it's also been a really good season for getting postcards. This one comes from my fellow writer, and I hope I'm not overstepping by saying so, friend, Rachael Healey.

Rachael was one of those writers in school who was always on the other end of the table from me... physically, not in any sort of philosophical way. In the screenwriting class I had with her, she was working on this really amazing update/interpretation to Hamlet, which I don't want to give too much away about [because she might be pursuing it later, and it is a good, theft-worthy idea -- the greatest compliment one writer can give another, right?], really impressed me right away. And since I always felt like the writing students at Bennington were always put in kind of adversarial situations, I was never comfortable heaping all this praise on my fellows, which looking back was very, very stupid of me. The things you wish you'd said, compliments you'd given people, right?

Anyway, I got a second chance recently, as she's been working on this play which... was just a joy to read, just a really unique idea, and she asked me to help workshop it, you know, edit a little, give notes [which I really miss from college anyway]. So that was amazing. And, she helped me get back into the game, in a lot of senses, just because sometimes reading something so far from the kind of stuff you usually read or do yourself, can really motivate you. So it worked out for all parties involved.

I digress, however. Rachael is, currently, traveling the northwest as a lead-up to her stint in grad school, and was nice enough to drop me this postcard to show off one of the surprising trends of the area I still consider the Holy Land. I thought this was especially fitting, because postcards like this were quite popular around here until just a couple years ago. So much so, in fact, that it was common for people to lacquer them to blocks of wood, and set them around with their kitsch-y trinkets. Now, naturally, I couldn't dig any of these up, but to give you some idea, here's a similar sort of thing that spun out of that:

Crazy, huh? Little coincidences.

Anyway, I know I've already said it, but if you're reading, thank you again, Rachael. I don't get a lot of mail, but little things like this, from all over? Love 'em.

In other news, I know I've went a little light on the blogging lately. Most of last week went into re-writes on my previous post, and even though it's not my usual style, when I get finished with the third/fourth draft, I think I might post it again, updated. A lot of people, not just on the blog, gave me some good feedback, and I have it out there to some other people I trust with this sort of thing, and I'm hoping to get something kind of nice, and finished, and just... strong out of it. What I'll do with it from there, I'm not really sure.

Some other things... there has been some really good, interesting writing out there lately, thought I'd throw out some links. My new Twitter buddy Polly Syllabick has a great entry over on her blog "The Hitch List" about a really unfortunate subway ride. It's... an awesome read. Also, freshly posted today, Hannah Miet has a really nice story up over on her blog, titled "In Peace." And Hipstercrite beat me to a blog entry I've had in mind for a long time... no competing, since she already beat me to the best Ghostbusters joke I could think of.

And last, but not least, is this post over at The Bathroom Monologues, "Fates of the Stepdaughter." Not only do I think it's some of John's best work, but I've been carrying it around with me, rolling it over in my head all weekend. There's just so much great stuff going on with it, it's hard to put away.

2 comments :: Authentalicious, indeed.

  1. Thank you, Randall. I love me some Polly and Lauren as well.

  2. It was my pleasure, Hannah. I really enjoy your work, and want other people to as well.

    Also, I'm always so hesitant to use Lauren's name. Isn't it weird that there's this strip of privacy to these places where we pretty much bare our soul and all our secrets, and yet we still wonder and worry about whether we're outing someone or not?