Old haunts, city of dreams

I just felt all of Dolores longing and desperation for an out, for love, for kindness, and it’s so true, no one can understand how much we want to be loved, no one but the dead.

Nghiem Tran, Kundiman fellow, on my short story, “Dead Girl in the Bed,” published in Amazon’s Day One.

I’m very excited to share my story, “Dead Girl in the Bed,” something I forgot to do on my writing blog, especially now that Day One has come out with another issue with the fabulous fiction writer, Kali Fajardo-Anstine.

It’s taken me five years to write this story. It’s a little surreal—to have it out in the world, living and breathing and kicking all on its own. On certain days, my anxiety wants to eat me all up—I think: what if no one reads it? And to be honest—probably no one will. Regardless, I am damn proud of its publication, but most of all, I’m incredibly moved by what my fellow Kundiman writer said of my piece (posted above).

no one can understand how much we want to be loved, no one but the dead.

Such deft truth. I balled when my dear friend sent me this. I don’t know how to thank him enough for these words.

I’m too exhausted to write anymore, which I should… About my time in Italy (or more appropriately called, My first time in Europe, which was both exhilarating, painful, but wonderfully tensed), about what’s it like being home (which is exhausting), about what’s it like to be working at Poets & Writers (which is wonderful), about what’s it like to re-suffer L.A. traffic (which is terrible and dreadful), about what’s it like to return to a city so filled with haunts that I consider Mulholland Drive an ironic but incredibly accurate depiction of my life—all of it, especially in its crazed ambitions.

I had these big dreams while flying back to LAX that I would write a beautiful blog piece with Nghiem’s moving and touching quote as the epigraph… But.

I’m tired. I have nothing grand to say. I think I said it all in the story, and my words right now can’t process anything but my exhausted and sleep-deprived body. Plus—didn’t I say exhausted, like, a million times?

But I’ll leave you with a photo of a building near Mulholland Drive that I took the day before I left for Italy. It says everything I want to say, everything I can’t say. If you do read the story, please know you have my deepest gratitude… Sincerely, thank you so much. While I was writing it, I didn’t know I was writing a “literary horror romance fiction” piece, but I ended up doing so anyways. I truly hope you enjoy the story.

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P.S. Here it is, just in case you don’t have a Kindle. Here’s another: I truly hope you enjoy it. I really do.

 

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