Lucy Hartman

Lucy Hartman

I'm funnier when I'm sober.

Cruel Ruby

Anxiety is a cheap trick. I admit I get a high when I feel the wheels in my mind turning, churning and burning for resolution to untold fear. My adrenaline revs up and I feel hyper-aware. However, I don’t usually realize until it’s too late that my body has already decided that the Sky is ...

Lucy and Danica

Queen of Rock and Roll Call

Yesterday, I changed my maiden name to my legal married surname, just like that.  With one simple stroke of a pen, I went from Miss to Missus. Yesterday, Danica Roem changed the political landscape of our entire country. With one simple election day, she went from Miss to State Assemblywoman. * I remember when Danica ...

misty mountains

Pura Vida for Two

We started our luna de miel with a missed connection in Atlanta. There were tears–there were many tears. But they dried when the compassionate man at Delta’s customer service counter upgraded our seats to First Class. He got us on the last flight of the day leaving for San Jose, Costa Rica. The subsequent eight-hour layover resulted ...

Wedding Disaster

I Say ‘No’ to the Dress

There is nothing I hate more than trying on wedding dresses. And for my faithful readers, I will cut right to the chase as to why that is. Behold: Ten Things I Hate About Wedding Dresses, The Musical (I also hate musicals) I am a different size for LITERALLY EVERY STYLE / MAKE / MODEL ...

candy

Dipped and Dyed

It was two o’clock on a Sunday when my eyes fluttered open. The light was bright–like, make-me-wretch-violently, bright. “Good,” I breathed warily, “It’s not rush hour yet.” It was two o’clock, to be exact, on Easter Sunday. Really, it was just another day. As long as the Ralph’s on La Brea stayed open until I could get there-or-be-square, ...

An Ambivert’s Delimma

Back in the dog days of summer, 2015, I visited with friends I’ve had since middle school. We talked for hours about all sorts of things, particularly how our lives had run parallel to each other’s over the years. For whatever reason, we began to talk about the difference between introverts and extroverts. We all ...

Blind Spots

I got in from New York City last night around 9:30pm. Nothing of note happened during the bus ride (s), except maybe for the Albanian man SCREAMING into his phone for SEVEN hours. Or the sub-zero temperatures. And/or the noxious smell of piss and shit from the “full service” bathrooms. Come to think of it, ...

illustration

Cent’Anni! (But I’ll take Two Years)

A traditional Italian toast–“Cent’Anni!”–blesses the toastee with wishes to live 100 years. I’ve walked this earth made from a colorful mixture of Italian, Scottish, English, German, Scottish and French stock, never having toasted much of anything (with the exception of my twin at her wedding. But not before I got into the champagne). I jumped ...

Bowie

Give Me Your Hands ‘Cos You’re Wonderful

The last thing my father did before he died was play a flute solo in church. Power move. He was an atheist who frequented our Episcopalian church with the simple excuse to play music for people. He ended on a high note–literally–collapsing against a piano. He felt no pain. He would elicit no such drama. “Atheist Dies in Church, Performs Final Solo,” read the headline ...

The Victimless Crimes of New York City

I am sitting at a community table, listening to Erykah Badu on Spotify, in a bustling Starbucks on West 41st street near Times Square. I welcome the noise of the espresso machine snarling at me over my own thoughts and even my music. I remember this feeling of aloneness being here.  I’ve learned how to ...