Capture and restraining of an animal are extremely stressful. An immediate reaction to stress is the "flight or fight" syndrome, to which the body responds by producing adrenaline. Persistent overproduction of adrenaline leads to a buildup of lactic acid in the bloodstream, which affects the heart's ability to pump correct oxygen to the muscles, which may cause muscles to start to die: myopathy (from the ancient greek pathos, "suffering," and mus, which means 1. "a field mouse"; 2. "a muscle of the body"). There are four categories of capture myopathy ranging from peracute, with death resulting in a matter of minutes, to chronic, where the captive animal may survive days or even months, riding horses and sending off telegrams, only to die suddenly from heart failure or some apparent accident. There is no treatment for capture myopathy.
- Anne Carson, the Albertine Workout
Getting ready for BinderCon, and the news of Jill Abramson being there turns everything cosmic.
Getting ready for BinderCon amounts to anticipating which restaurants I can haul my carcass to from the conference locations. My restaurant rotation in New York has gotten really fixed, and since I do not have to accommodate anyone's desires but my own on this weekend, I envision it being full of lox.
My contributor copy of Women in Clothes is in my arms. Reading all the bylines, every few names, my heart leapt into my throat:
Alissa Nutting! Amy Rose Spiegel! Anisse Gross! Audrey Gelman! Carrie Murphy! Donora Hillard! Eileen Myles! Elif Batuman! Elissa Schappell! Emily Gould! Haley Mlotek! Jenna Wortham! Joana Avillez! Johanna Fateman! Justin Vivian Bond! Kate Zambreno! Kim Gordon! Lena Dunham! Mairead Case! Masha Tupitsyn! Mira Gonzalez! Miranda July! Molly Ringwald! Rachel Antonoff! Rachel Comey! Renee Gladman! Rivka Galchen! Roxane Gay! Sadie Stein! Sarah Nicole Prickett! Sasha Grey! Semi Chellas! Tavi Gevinson! Thessaly La Force! Zosia Mamet! To say nothing of the towering Sheila Heti, Leanna Shapton, and Heidi Julavits, who put Women in Clothes together and whose unified vision and individual-but-impeccably-meshed-styles gives the giant project (639 contributors besides themselves) so much cohesion. If my own presence in Women in Clothes sways you, by all means, be swayed — I'm (clearly) the least of what's to be enjoyed in there, but the fact that I am in this book with all these people is never going to stop making me feel really fucking awesome forever.
I need that some days.
Lessons for Girls is burning in my hands — I have never had a time like this, working on a piece of writing, feeling like it is so important and urgent and I have the tools to articulate why. I'm putting a jaunty bow on certain arguments, appraising each time I use the word "bullshit," and reading everything aloud to find where the prose gets strangled in my fury. It's almost done. It's beautiful.