My interview with The Coachella Review

TCR Talks with Gloria Harrison

My introduction to Gloria Harrison was the short film Let’s See How Fast This Baby Will Go, based on her essay of the same title, first published by The Nervous Breakdown. It is the true story of a nineteen-year-old woman in labor, on the verge of giving away her baby, who first stops to buy a car. That woman is Gloria.

Gloria Harrison is a storyteller whose work has appeared on The Nervous Breakdown, This American Life, The Weeklings, Fictionaut, Other People with Brad Listi podcast, The Manifest Station, and Sweatpants and Coffee. In January 2017, a short film adaptation of her story that appeared on This American Life, “Let’s See How Fast This Baby Will Go,” was released by Australian director Julietta Boscolo. It is currently playing at film festivals around the world.

I had the honor of talking with Gloria about writing, the film, and her next projects.

Continue reading “My interview with The Coachella Review”


As I Walk Through the Uncanny Valley of Death

Since I started writing my memoir eight years ago, I’ve been trying to puzzle out how to write about something I have zero words for: how I experienced the world after the accident, after the traumatic brain injury, as a disembodied person who didn’t make a lot of new memories and basically forgot “how to human.”

Recently, I was introduced to the concept of the uncanny valley:

In aesthetics, the uncanny valley is a hypothesized relationship between the degree of an object’s resemblance to a human being and the emotional response to such an object. The concept of the uncanny valley suggests humanoid objects which appear almost, but not exactly, like real human beings elicit uncanny, or strangely familiar, feelings of eeriness and revulsion in observers. Valley denotes a dip in the human observer’s affinity for the replica, a relation that otherwise increases with the replicas human likeness.

Continue reading “As I Walk Through the Uncanny Valley of Death”

In Certain Company

Jenny and Katrina’s mom was a heroin addict, but we didn’t know that at first. All we knew was that she was never home and Jenny and Katrina had the place to themselves most of the time. A boon for a ragtag group of parent-less adolescents like us.

Jenny was my age. I met her when we were in eighth grade, and by ninth grade, her house was the established place to go. Katrina was older, maybe even older than Kim, and impossibly cool. Even her name was cool. She was still school-age, but she’d quit going long ago. No one was there to say no. Continue reading “In Certain Company”

Recovered Memory: Pumpkin Bread

Note: this memory comes from a conversation I was just having with a friend wherein we were talking about a couple of depressing things in our lives at the moment. His was more depressing and I told him, “Hey, you win!” And then he said, “Yay! The nihilists will send me a card then!” I was like “Wait, nihilists send you cards for the saddest story? They’re really fucking behind! They owe me!” To which my friend said, “Yeah, the thing about nihilist greeting cards is that they never actually arrive.”

Then, boom! Here’s this memory out of nowhere. One I’ve never told or written. And this is what I told my friend.

Continue reading “Recovered Memory: Pumpkin Bread”

Fuck You, Bill Cosby. And All the Rest of You.

Bill Cosby – FUCK YOU. Of all the dads in my life when I was growing up, you were the only one I picked and felt safe with. I know it was just a TV show. But fuck you anyway.  You lied to a generation of people from fantasy land and you hurt multiple generations of women in the real world I don’t give a shit if you’re 80 years old – I hope you get 10 years for each of the 3 measly charges you’ve been convicted of, and I hope you live to 110 so that you can serve every single last day of that sentence. It’s a paltry penance for all the pain, suffering, and mind fuckery you caused.

And a huge fuck you also to Louis C.K., Sherman Alexie, Harvey Piece-of-Shit-Weinstein, and all the rest of you men who have public respect and great personal power who haven’t been caught yet. Stop that shit now. Go no further. Make no mistake, this is the beginning of a tectonic shift in how the world deals with rape and it isn’t gonna stop.

And, especially, FUCK YOU, MR. PRESIDENT. Continue reading “Fuck You, Bill Cosby. And All the Rest of You.”

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