Marriage, Staged
A closeted woman enters a hillside open house where infidelity, resentment, fertility panic, and self-erasure have each been preserved in perfect taste. At the end of the tour, the house offers her a room of her own and a life that would ask almost nothing of her except silence.
Lisa Frank is Bleeding
A dead mother’s house starts crying in bubblegum pink, pulling one woman back into the parts of herself she was taught were childish, shameful, and too much to keep. Beneath the gloss and body horror, something stranger is waiting: not punishment, but permission.
Writing The California Fever Dream
“Outside, the sky began changing colors like it was unsure which version of the sunset to run. A Joshua Tree caught fire, silently. Beautifully. And then reassembled itself in reverse.”
— Static at the edge of 29 Palms
“She could taste the day. Hot pennies. Sunscreen. The faint chemical sweetness of melted plastic… She told herself this was normal. California normal. A climate that didn’t ask permission.”
— What California Makes
“The heat was biblical and immediate. By the time she had crossed the wash and climbed the low rise beyond it, her shirt was sticking to her back and her thoughts had gone strangely bright around the edges.”