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76–A last Thanksgiving at home.
Driving in, I had the thought: "how many more Thanksgivings will we spend like this, a family together in our family home?"
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Joey Rubin
75–On the Rue de Rome.
His letters pull me from the sea like a line from a fishing pole: there’s a wrenching, a pulling back, a removal from the comfortable, from home, from…
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Joey Rubin
1
74–It feels as if you are a time traveler.
But the writer is also him, a him he did know, later; when you were 17, heading into the world, leaving for college, he had this writer inside of him…
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Joey Rubin
1
73–From a futon in France.
But it also eats away at a more core belief around who I am, and how this project negates or reaffirms my identity: if I truly were a writer, then I…
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Joey Rubin
1
72–A preface, in the middle of things.
What matters is, I tucked them away; aware of their power but not of what they were. Honored, confused, horrified, excited.
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Joey Rubin
71–This project, recalibrated.
#71. And in writing about this grief – grief for him, and grief for myself as an artist – I renovated my relationship to art.
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Joey Rubin
The Joy Menu #70: Pain
And at every juncture, each time I saw a doctor or a specialist or a nurse or a phlebotomist, they’d ask “And the pain?”
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Joey Rubin
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The Joy Menu
The Joy Menu
what the hell is "creativity" anyway?

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