sweetheart redux

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20. The hostess’s name was Tess.  She and her own mom were incredibly close (not in a way that warms the hearts of witnesses, though; they accepted each other wholly and had unquestioningly relied on each other as a matter of survival at times, but neither one was expressive of affection, or enjoyed completely the traits of the other).  Therefore, she could not empathize with Molly’s situations, of searching for a mother's whose whereabouts were unknown.  Throughout her young life, Tess had had many friends who’d run away from home (a couple not surviving their adventures), and that was a narrative she instinctively understood; a child seeing no way to become important except by prematurely asserting what little personality the young person has so far developed.  Consequently, she couldn’t help but treat Molly like a mother who’d been fled from, and it made her feel sorry for her.  The awkward way Richard flirted made her feel protective towards him as wel...

me and mom yesterday i spent at least an hour encamped in my doctor's bathroom, shitting, throwing up and crying out a panic attack, a few minutes in a cab ride to the emergency room where i was born, had heart surgery and gave birth, and several hours lying down in an emergency room staring close up at the wall and waiting for imaginary dangers and real ones to duke it out inside my body.  as usual, today i feel more embarrassed than anything else.

there's something so embarrassing about these doodles of mine from junior high and high school that i've been posting on here lately (like  the melodrama and  how I made it look like this one was copyrighted in the title square), but sometimes i see some other girl's art from when she was  a teenager and it has so many similarities to things i've done, it makes me feel like "aw!  that's sweet and funny" or when i'm in a less charitable mood, feel jealous that i didn't share my similar thing w/ the world first. 

19. "Maybe she was my mom," Molly blurted out to the hostess.  "The lady that was here with fireworks.  Maybe it was Beth."  "Oh, honey," Richard reasoned, "I don't think so." "What, why not?  Isn't that why we're here, because you though she might be in Philly?  She loves fireworks.  She let me set them off," something Molly never would have thought to ask Richard for permission for. "Wow," interjected the hostess, "You're tying to find you mom in Philly?  It could totally be this woman.  She kind of looks like you, actually.  Her name was Vivienne, I think.  Is it her?"             "My mother's name is Beth, but she'd probably make up a name like Vivienne for herself.  What does this woman look like?"             "Sweetie, she doesn't even have the same name, and I don't think she'd say she was from L.A....

18. George, Beth and Molly bought a box full of fireworks one weekend years ago, the weekend before the 4th of July.   It was illegal to set off fireworks in L.A. County because of the potential for fires in such a draught-ridden tinder box of a city, so they went to a town right outside the county line to buy the fireworks, and they bought a lot:   Flying Spinners; Fountains Cones that shot up green and pink sparks; Ground Bloom Flowers; Parachutes; Roman Candles; smoke grenades. They ended up not using more than a few sparklers the night of the 4th, though; they just weren't in the mood.   But a few months later, Josie was spending a Saturday night over at Beth's with Molly, and the three of them were feeling particularly exhilarated that night.   It was a deliciously warm night, and each girl, woman, felt particularly young, immortal practically, and Beth burst out happily, "Shit, Molly!   We have fireworks!"   She could be so really charming some...

A young Lesley Arfin (some time in the 90's) In the 1990’s, before the internet was a thing, first and second generation Riot Grrrls read reviews of zines written by other Riot Grrrls who lived on the other side of the country (or sometimes even in England or Canada), and would sent their $1.25 + 2 stamps price to order these zines, and 9 times out of 10, this (losing) business transaction led to a penpal relationship.  It was amazing.  A lot of the RG rhetoric at the time waxed poetic on the concept of a “girl army”, and while these penpal relationships may not have been a tool of some militant action towards gender equality, it was a very wonderful and amazing network that could not have existed without Riot Grrrl.  I still remember how exciting it was to get the mail everyday (I did a zine with a fairly large readership, called Sweetheart, from around 1993-1997), just how special it felt to have my dad hand me all these wildly decorated envelopes from arou...