On Sharing Why Robin Williams' suicide shook me to the core

Back in March, in the wake of L'Wren Scott's suicide, I wrote a blog post about my struggles with depression and times in my life when I've felt suicidal.

Anxiety, three ways

The Halloween show was last night--a million bands stretching into the night, hundreds of people crammed into what once seemed like a generous space until the room was filled with a palpable, heated force field of body odor and sweat.

Does this depression make my butt look big?

NaBloPoMo March challenge. Completed.

Obsessive compulsive listening

This is what I do when I'm feeling particularly crazy: Listen to the same songs on repeat. The same damn sad, crazy-making songs. Sometimes I make entire playlists.

Two years ago it was the title track from Arcade Fire's Suburbs record:

Every 1's a winner

This Hot Chocolate song has made almost every single damn playlist I've concocted in the last eight months. It just narrowly escaped my annual holiday comp.

The song played over that scene in Frances Ha--you know the one when Greta Gerwig's character is in Paris, alone and trying to figure shit out--just did me in.

Check your depression privilege

I've been dealing with some quality depression lately.

I mean, this is the good stuff--no weak-ass, I'm just having a meh day kind of shit. But rather, a deep and hearty depression.

Syndicate content