I Can Feel the Sun in My Eyes
Sing me another love song
The Sunday Letter #33
Hi there,
To be honest, I wanted to write a longer letter, but words have been escaping me today; nothing I can say feels right.
I also wanted to say a quick note of thanks for the messages of support on last week’s letter about finishing cancer treatment. It can be difficult to share vulnerable writing online, but I hope it was helpful to at least someone out there who is also going through cancer or a tough loss. Thank you, always, for reading.
#32: IF I MAKE IT TO THE MORNING.
A year ago, I finished radiation therapy for the second time in my life. In 2019, I learned that the angry red bumps boiling beneath the skin of my arm were in fact symptoms of a mutation called lymphoma. I underwent three weeks of radiation on the campus where I was attending university, ducking in and out of my classes to run across the street for dai…
Leaving you with Joan Armatrading’s Love and Affection, which came on shuffle last night and has since been repeated at least a dozen times in my house.
“Now if I can feel the sun
In my eyes
And the rain on my face
Why can't I
Feel love?”
This week’s recommendations
Librarians are on the frontlines of queer activism.
A Leopard-Skin Hat by Anne Serre was a moving character portrait of a woman on fire: “Love is far more important than death, and when it comes to love, a carnage is often indispensable. It’s the law.”
I’ve been riveted by this quote on Twitter—Lee Seong-bok on going for the unexpected choice in writing:
Unlike asexual reproduction, where species do not change, sexual reproduction requires recombination, and the endless evolution of the species. Write like you’re reproducing sexually, not asexually. Try “the fires of the river” and not “the tears of the river.” Asexual reproduction is the way to a dead sentence, and sexual reproduction is the way to a living one.
Julia Fox is not your survivor: “The only way to escape the impossible binary of bad-girl train wreck or good-girl survivor is to ignore both labels entirely and follow instead your own heat and light.” I’ve just started Julia’s memoir, and it reads like Florida Project meets My Brilliant Friend. It’s a raw and delicate treat and I’m grateful to be let in.
Literary fiction is over, long live literary fiction.
A deeply moving and troubling account of what’s to come with art and AI, from
. I can’t stop thinking about this line: “A couple of months ago, a writer I admire told me in an Idaho airport that when it comes to getting paid for writing books/making art/writing scripts, he thinks we have about eight years left.”Sofia Coppola and Cindy Sherman in conversation.
Today I learned about “skibidi toilet,” a Gen Alpha trend that has Gen Z feeling old. Here’s
on how it feels to be a Millenial watching Gen Z start all over again, and the upside of aging out.This quote, attributed to Ocean Vuong, about how in the end, writers are all just “horses running together in a field.”
Rest in peace, Louise Glück: “In the end, even the earth itself will follow the artist’s name into oblivion.”
I so deeply look forward to the emails I get updating me of your new writing. You have such a beautiful way with words and a very unique voice/perspective. Thank you so much for sharing such intimate parts of yourself with us and using your platform to discuss such important things!