Kate Ryan

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

As an Uber driver, I have the privilege of talking to and eavesdropping on a sampling of L.A.’s finest, ranging from the clinically insane to the simply self-absorbed. As a writer, there is no end to the amount of inspiration my passengers provide.