Kate Ryan

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

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

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.

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

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.

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.