i dreamt the last night that i’d written a website post about my friend karina. i texted her about it and she said she had a similar dream! wtf? so obvi i had to write one.
karina is my friend. i met her in 2012 at the bookstore bookthugnation and i swear she told me that she’d read my “where i write“ essay and that she’d also lived in washington heights. but she says this is untrue. the memory is a funny thing.
anyway, she writes good shit that you should read. we both have essays in this anthology GIRLS? hers is about not going on food stamps, and mine is about having my apartment condemned. it’s a sweet anthology, grab a copy!
BUT this essay about visiting Alaska is one of my favorites:
I’d forgive the mistake you’ve probably already made, of imagining this night as any other night, in any other bar at the flickering outskirts of any other town. There’s plenty to suggest this: an electronic jukebox, lighting up every time one country song fades into another, a narrow section of sand past the swinging patio door, used for throwing cigarette butts and horseshoes. Next to the bathrooms, a pool table doubles as a cup-holder, and thin-faced, over-40 waitresses circle the tables searching for empty bottles and dollar bills. The fog of cigarette smoke makes me think of the VFW bars I once sat in drinking bottomless Shirley Temples, a dartboard all to myself, while my dad would talk business over mid-afternoon beers. I don’t know a thing about fishing boats, but I’m convinced at least about one thing, even if no one else is: I belong in bars like this.
Read the essay in it’s entirety here. Follow Karina on Tumblr and Twitter because she’s a sweet and smart Minnesota/Brooklyn gal and we need more of those. She is also my height twin. Some more fun facts: She loves tequlia sodas, chips, and charleston chews, and i find this all very endearing.