From the Writing Desk of: Shea Stripling

Pictured 

1. Flashing pink heart-shaped glasses: Acquired when I participated in the lie that it was my birthday at a Japanese steakhouse in New Jersey. Always on hand for moments of deep self reflection.

2. Stack of small book arts projects including a flag book that folds out to a full picture of Bill Murray in Buddhist monk robes from the movie The Razor’s Edge. If you press a button on the inside, it will play thirty seconds of that movie’s score.

3. Urban Decay Lipstick in “Cream.” Use with extreme caution.

4. Self-inking stamp emblazoned with an image of my face. Use with extreme recklessness.

5. Large bottle of Mod Podge. Self-explanatory.

6. A library copy of The Razor’s Edge that was held by the hands of Bill Murray. Possibly stolen.

7. Tiny Oscar awarded to me at Lynsey Morandin's 2015 Oscar Party for making the most correct Oscar predictions. Shout out to all those technical categories that were basically Hail Marys.

8. Painting of Bill Murray’s character in Rushmore that I purchased from the Summer of Bill Festival in Charleston, SC this summer. Adopted mantra: “I’m a bit lonely these days.”

9. Small toy boat and small toy taxi. Self-explanatory.

10. A copy of Lincoln in the Bardo signed, “Here’s to empathy.”

11. Typewriter that once belonged to my grandmother and was left to me, in that it was left in a box of things that belonged to her that no one else wanted.

12. The thrift store mug (a gift from the first person to ever show me Harold and Maude)  says it all.

Not Pictured/ Barely Pictured

1. Silver Sharpie Jonathan Franzen exchanged for my Uni Ball Vision Elite at a book signing. We all have regrets.

2. A pen from The Colbert Report that, at one time, lit up blue from the inside. Sad.

3. The sound of my upstairs neighbors tipping ash onto my balcony and making sounds that sound like fun.

4. A drawer jammed with letters/ cards/ postcards that touch a tender spot on the underside of my heart I sometimes forget.

5. The Darjeeling Limited soundtrack (probably) playing on a cheap record player over the sound of me finding that tender spot again.

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Shea Stripling is a poetry reader for Split Lip Magazine. Her book No One Will Ever Believe You is available now from Hypertrophic Press.