You look like a lesbian artist fairy.

When you live in LA and work in the movies, you experience the collapse of some of that fantasy. You know that the eyes glow like that because of lights placed at a specific angle, and you see the actresses up close and, yes, they are beautiful, but they are human size and imperfect like the rest of us.

I want to confess. I thought that her story was comprised of scenes. I thought the tragedy could be glamorous and her grief could be undone by a sunnier future. I thought we could pinpoint dramatic events on a time line and call it a life.
But I was wrong.

Why, oh why, must we always go through pigs to get our truffles?

I wondered if all women did with other women was lie and hug.

This is why homophobia is a terrible evil: it disguises itself as concern while it is inherently hate.