she’s in charge of rocking the other coast.

My life is the subway from Brooklyn, dodging pedestrians in midtown, and meeting my cohorts for free drinks at the bar that sometimes employs us when the magazine operating out of the office above it doesn’t. My wardrobe is H&M, second-hand, ebay-won, or just a simple Japanese t-shirt and jeans sprinkled with a rotating array of plastic, animal-themed accessories. Yes, it’s precious. I run to auditions during lunch and dinner hours trying to be an actor. I sneak into fashion shows and press events pretending to be a writer. In other news, I like shrimp.

I miss you, Andi Teran.

the wedding we didn’t have

There was a time, somewhere back last spring, when we were still trying to figure out both the ceremony and the location, that we had been excited about the notion of the following: Having Allison sing Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah as I walked down the aisle of The Wayfarers Chapel.

One week later, we’re watching The O.C. season finale on TiVo when they cut to the big wedding ceremony.

Huge, sweeping crane shot of the Wayfarers Chapel while playing Jeff Buckley’s cover of “Hallelujah.”

When we finally were able to move our mouths again, I whined, “The O.C. stole our wedding.” Read more

processing the new year

The morning after the wedding, we woke up and listened to this song in bed and thought about how happy we were and how perfectly the wedding went and how lucky we were to have these amazing friends and family who braved the rain and snow and winds and this strange waterfall that happens on our front steps when it pours outside. Read more

From One Bride to Another

[readermail]
Subject: Warning to My Bitch (At)!
To: pamie@pamie.com

Dear “Pamela”,

“Please” accept this “warning” from New York: Wear my wedding “guests” out at your New Year’s “nuptials” and “I” will have you “kilt”.

This is “not” a “joke”.

“Love”,
Faye
[/readermail]

she lives in caps lock

Andi Teran was the new kid.

I’d been the new kid time and time again, and hadn’t been on the other side before. She was the one who didn’t know anybody, who wasn’t sure of how to get around, what to think of all of us. And look, this girl, she was really cool. Cool in a way I hadn’t exactly been exposed to before. It had been a long time since I’d come across someone who made me shy because she was just that much cooler than I could ever be. I mean, she had her own apartment! She had an Emily the Strange sticker on her car. In 1994. Read more

I am at the very

I am at the very frustrating part in the manuscript where every little distraction is a welcome one. Consequently, I’m forcing myself to stay away from the hundred other things I could be doing with my computer right now (Dirty!), and sending you instead to read Andi’s wonderful essay about how she’s always been an actor.