A little bird—a few of them, actually—reminded me recently that I wrote a bunch of short stories for my MFA degree back in 2012 that would make excellent concepts for film scripts.
I hadn’t looked at my thesis collection since that time. When I opened the file, however, I was fairly stunned: my fiction writing was much better than I remembered it being—an impression based not on quality or technical skill but rather my progress in silencing my inner critic over the last few years. (Standup—especially its roasting modality—will do that to you. Thank the Goddess for me.)
The piece I’m linking to here offers a snapshot of that personal growth, at least insofar as it chronicles my vexed relationship to psychopharmacology. Titled “Ativan Diary,” the story is a transparently autobiographical account of a momentous transition in my life: moving in with my ex-partner the Banker (as I referred to him on Twitter at the time).
Twelve years later and a lot has changed—including that I’m finally free of Ativan. (Thank my increíble bicoastal care team for me.)
I address my overall struggle with substances and mental health in my work-in-progress Química Divina, so you won’t be reading in this space how I managed to quit the benzodiazepine life. Indeed, because that project is my sole writing focus for the foreseeable future, I won’t be publishing any more new material on Substack.
Instead, I’m turning to my archives, which—like everyone’s—are vast.
And since the work I’ll be sharing is the product of considerable investments in time, energy, and money—in other words, labor—I can’t offer it sans charge.
(I changed my mind.)1
My YouTube channel, on the other hand, remains ungated and I post to it daily. That’s where my freshest takes go, and it’s also where my long-form video works are—wait for it—archived. Meta is no match on that point.
At any rate—and without further ado—please enjoy “Ativan Diary.” There’s no plot, so don’t expect a movie version. Lol.
Updated 4 June 2025.