YESSSSS. OMG YES. Ani’s memoir.
Sorry, all the other memoirs on my bedside table. I bookmarked all of you when I bought Ani’s book on its release day, because I have been FEELING lately, and returning to her music (and Tori’s, and Bikini Kill’s, and Sleater-Kinney’s, and 7 Year Bitch’s, and and and and) because it’s an angry-female world I live in and I need a soundtrack.
…Some guy designed this room I’m standing in,
and others built it with their own tools.
Who says I like right angles?
These are not my laws, these are not my rules!
The first Ani song I ever heard was “Dilate,” which a friend put on for me after a particularly bad breakup:
And when I say you sucked my brain out,
the English translation
is ‘I am in love with you,
and it is no fun.’
Hooked.
But this post isn’t about music per se. Well, maybe that’s untrue. It’s about a memoir by a consummate musician. Without music, there would be no memoir. There would be no Ani. There might be no Stacia. Continue reading
another writing mom 