Dusk at my grandmother's house once sounded like sirens – like the wailing truck that circled town, spraying pesticide children would chase.

Last year, a New Yorker told me that every time he flies into LA, he feels like he's arriving in Gotham City.

You can believe me, or label these incidents as illusions.

There were always clues.

As regards my job and the state of Los Angeles and my body and my government and the lives of my friends as well as my health

A girl grips my arm in the dark. Everyone else is playing in another room. I can’t go, can’t return to them. This started as a game.

Up the street, hills that had been dark and drowsy when I laid down were dancing.

One of the most enduring stories that I carry comes from my mother's Midwestern family. It reappears in my writing again and again.

I discover myself at the crossroads of different places and forms and communities.