Nadya Writes Things.
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I don’t believe in this whatsoever, Jawn.
…but maybe having temperature-controlled rooms in your rich-man apartment to protect your fur coats–while bleating “imagine no posessions” to your avaricious, rapacious Boomer audience–might actually have had something to do with it all. Never mind. Good song, though.
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Have I Ever Talked About How Much I Despise Summer?
Because I do. I really, really do. How could anyone like this nonsense?! I loathe this season. I absolutely hate everything about this time of year. I would do anything to not be here, in Vancouver, on this roasting planet, right here and right now. And every summer is going to be worse than the…
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Fairly cute at 50…
…but I am scheduled to get some injectables in my face. I can’t wait; I’m not taking this “getting old” thing too well, particularly while having to endure it in this psychopathic, violent, woman-despising patriarchy (and there is no other kind of patriarchy). As Courtney Love said many years ago, “Being able to buy beauty…
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My entire approach to life, unexpectedly summed up in an 80s film I just watched.
“I love you. Not…not like they told you love is. And I didn’t know this either. But love don’t make things nice. It ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren’t here to make things perfect. Snowflakes are perfect. Stars are perfect. Not us. Not us. We are here to…
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Writing prompt (which I haven’t done in ages)
“Get an education, and don’t get pregnant.” This was passed down from my mother, an exceptionally competent, professional, and brilliant woman who heard it from her own mother–my Russian grandmother. My baba lived in the interior of British Columbia, could not speak English, had a husband die from Parkinson’s-related disease, and was left with four…
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Bread dough
The fact that my first name was processed with an F–and I have no clue what name that was supposed to be, since “Nafya” sounds like a Senegalese dish–tells you everything you need to know about Galen and his crew. Also, you’re going to have to deal with the fact that my screenshot is in…
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With zero irony…
There’s nothin’ ’bout this decade so far (MY decade, that is; my head-smacking new decade on this planet, which kicked off last December) that deserves pom-poms, craft lager, and sloppy blowjobs. But it’s only been four months, and I have never been one to have a lot of existential patience. That’s why I’m doing my…
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And Bats, That With A Kiss, Turn Prince For You
That’s about it for this blog. If I return, then I will, without much fanfare. But with over two years of my time, over one hundred pieces of writing, and with nothing progressing from this point, I believe my efforts here are finished, and largely, have met their end. That’s not to say that it…
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To The Half-Douk, With Love
That’s the only existing picture of Victor Bonderoff I could find online; I have none of my own. This had to be the 70s. Or maybe it’s the 80s. I really don’t know. I hadn’t thought about Victor in several years. Our last bit of communication was back in the summer of 2018, and it…
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Celery
Ridiculous.
verainvancouver@gmail.com
verainvancouver@gmail.com 