Kate Ryan

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

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

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

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.

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

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.