- Mill Valley, California, U.S.
- September 01
- Freelance Content Writer & Book Editor
- Outside Eye Consulting
- freelance content maker, writer & editor.
bleeding heart vole rescuer.
MY RECENT POSTS
- No Longer Young in Venice
June 22, 2012 12:47PM
- Young and Free and
December 30, 2011 12:18PM
- Pottery Is Not Precious
October 06, 2011 11:53AM
- This Is All I Know About
Budapest (The Cat)
September 15, 2011 03:10PM
- The Woodstove
January 01, 2011 03:31PM
Joslyn Hamilton's Links
- MY LINKS
I’m in a soulless, faux-deco apartment on the boardwalk in Venice.
I drove my lesbaru downstate yesterday to pop into a client conference for a few hours. Last night, I slept in a pristine white bed in a perfectly climate controlled room in the Anaheim-Orange Hilton, like a princess, sans… Read full post »
The other day I bought a filing cabinet off Craig’s List.
Not your average janky metal office furniture jobby, this filing cabinet is a deep faux mahogany affair that can easily pass as a classy end table. Up until now, my files have all been stashed in a cheap… Read full post »
I’m really into making pottery. I don’t talk about it all that much, partly because it’s hard to talk in words about something that happens purely from the right side of your brain, and partly because, well, it’s my thing, and I don't always feel like sharing it. Sometimes it&… Read full post »
Once upon a time I lived in a rent controlled 3-bedroom flat in San Francisco.
My boyfriend-at-the-time was “not a cat guy,” and under no circumstances ever wanted to get one. He was actually a militant vegan (although ethic-less in most other regards) who didn’t believe in the sub… Read full post »
Even though it was the 70s and modern technology was well established, my hippie parents did their best to pretend we were living on Little House on the Prairie. To that end, the single heat source in our house was an old-fashioned cast iron woodstove. The thing was my childhood nemesis.… Read full post »
Here’s an excerpt from a letter my father recently sent me:
Curt has a way with words. (“Curt,” by the way, is what my brother and I always called our father. Our mother was “Judith.” It was the 70s. Being called “mom” and “dad” was… Read full post »
It was a year ago that I moved out of the house I shared with my last boyfriend, the V.H.B.P.D. **
I moved from our spacious 3-bedroom railroad flat in San Francisco to a quiet, tiny, cozy studio cottage in Mill Valley. It was a drastic and depressing change for… Read full post »
If you have a sensitive stomach or a clinical mollusk phobia like I happen to have, you may not want to read this story. But, having lived through this sordid nightmare myself, it would really make me feel better if you would read it. I cannot stand to suffer this kind… Read full post »
My father sends me letters. For the past year or so, he’s been hand writing missives about his childhood and mailing them to me 3,000 miles away. He’s getting up there in his years, and I think he wants to document his youth while he still has lucid memories of it.… Read full post »