“Mirrorball” by Mary Gaitskill

Is a damn fine short story.

That’s all for now. The weather has broken, the cold has started in earnest. Am doing lots of manual labour around the house, and an obscene amount of writing. Blockages gone, like the warmth that has reigned over Kiev for the last few weeks. I’d be happy about it, but my stuff hasn’t arrive from Amman yet, so am obnoxiously borrowing mummy’s sweaters, which are mostly Ralph Lauren and make me look like I should be in some WASPy catalogue set on some douchebag’s yacht – well, unless you count the inherent streak of eurotrash. It’s like stripes on a chipmunk.

2 thoughts on ““Mirrorball” by Mary Gaitskill

  1. Girl.

    You are beautiful and sexy. You know how to wear a dress. You went to one of the best schools in this nation. And you didn’t rest on the laurels. My damn co-workers check your blog now ’cause they can’t even believe I even know someone like you.

    You do not have any chipmunk stripes. And anyone who bothers you, I will kick their face in. OK?

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