Lisa Bloom's essay on how to talk to little girls exploded all over the internet this past week. It's enjoying near-universal acclaim. The right-wing women in my life love it. The progressive lefty women love it. The Manhattan professionals and the fiery raise-your-own-chickens-and-eat-your-own-placenta Tennesseans all love it. So how come I think her advice is actually a bit horrifying?
My Year in Books: 2011
Lots of poetry, Spanish, and short stories. And Spanish poetry. And Spanish short stories. OK, and stories about poetry. (What. Shut up.)
Are You There, Judy Blume?
Apropos of nothing, I just want to say: Isn't Judy Blume full of it? Twenty years after I first read it, Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret still pisses me off.
Haiku Wednesdays
Like Schuykill bridges / how many times have I crossed / your hidden river?