Kate Ryan

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.

Hollywood continues to flounder in a dick-sucking frenzy of self-congratulatory white male directors, writers, and producers.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

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

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.

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

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

We all love our dogs. However, some of us take it a little too far, convincing ourselves that our dogs are actually our children. You call your dog your “baby” one day, and the next thing you know, you’re pushing him or her down the street in an expensive stroller. How did we get here? Trust me, it’s a slippery slope. Here are 12 signs you might have a dog-child.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.