Jody Amable

Creator of grungy, gritty rock and roll with a poet’s heart, her critically-lauded record, Beyond the Bloodhounds, tells tales of a tumultuous childhood and split geographical identity.

Like most nerd realms, music writing is a predominantly male world. Especially if, like me, your greatest love is classic rock.

Jon Stewart, step aside. Your heir apparent has arrived.

The further I get into this series, the harder time I am having remembering what the eff has happened so far. You see, I am an Old Lady.

In the aftermath of my mom passing, I've learned to reconcile our rocky relationship with the knowledge that she loved me.

I couldn’t help but assume the reason these people were telling me not to say even a word to this troll was because women aren’t supposed to fight back. We’re supposed to rise above — to “not stoop to their level,” as my mom used to say.

According to the magazine, women need special help understanding sports. Cue the glorious, hilarious Twitter outrage.

So far, Deathly Hallows is, to me, about the divide between the living, the dead, and the living who have seen death. Harry and I are part of an exclusive club: Those under 30 who have experienced death. And when I say “experienced,” I don’t mean “witnessed.” I mean really, really felt it, all the way through.

I'm 30 years old and stuck in San Jose, the hometown I always wanted to leave. What happened?

If I let everyone off the hook for extenuating circumstances like, “He’s over 50, so he probably just doesn’t know any better,” no one’s ever going to stop calling me “sweetie.”