Every week we feature a different person from the community shedding a little light on their life of brokeitude. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something about the human spirit — probably not.
Wanna be a Broke-Ass of the Week? Holler at us here and we’ll send you the questionnaire.
Normally I write a little intro about each Broke-Ass of the Week, but Laura’s email to me was so good, I feel like I just need to quote it here:
I’m a broke-ass writer; I saw your post on my buddy Isaac Fitzgerald, and let me tell you, if you think Isaac’s one broke asshole, let me introduce you to me. I live in the Mission, work out of the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto, and my credit card bill exceeds my total net worth. Romance, to me, is a five-dollar bowl of Yamo house noodles followed by 5-6 episodes of 30 Rock. My fiance told me he fell in love with me the first time I told him I thought marriage was, at its root, a business arrangement.
I’m a poet and essayist and screenwriter; I write for The Rumpus when the mood strikes and The Faster Times more regularly. My young adult novel, Sister Mischief, was released by Candlewick Press on July 12 and concerns a Jewish lesbian MC in Minnesota who falls in love with her Bengali Indian co-MC. I’m a cheap drunk and the kind of interviewee who will basically tell you anything. Let’s start with my mother.
Yeah, Laura’s pretty rad.
Name: Laura Goode
Occupation: Writer. My first novel, Sister Mischief, was just released by Candlewick Press. I like to call it the world’s first interracial gay hip-hop love story for teens. Themes explored include smoking weed in treehouses, goats covered in Crisco, teachers’ disapproving smiles that don’t disapprove too strongly, and of course, teenage lesbians. Brief excerpt: “Guess what. This is some postcolonial shit right here.”
What neighborhood do you live in?: The Mission.
What are you listening to these days?: The 4H (Hip-Hop for Heteros and Homos) mastermix I made while I was writing Sister Mischief: Invincible, Deep Dickollective, and MC Lyte are highlights. I’m listening to a lot of Diana Ross and Tina Turner right now, too, because they’re influential figures in the novel I’m writing now. One of the main characters is a cop-slash-transgender celebrity tribute artist.
Best money saving tip: Get paid.
What do you refuse to spend money on?: You know when you go to the grocery store in the summer and they have corn on the cob for, like, six for a dollar, and then you look in another corner of the produce section and they’re selling four ears of already-shucked corn for like six dollars? I fucking hate that shit. Shuck your own damn corn.
Most expensive thing you’ve ever bought: A bunch of plane tickets around Europe this past June.
How’d that feel?: Anxiety-provoking. I was raised on garage sales. I still get intuitively excited on Thursdays, because Thursday was always garage sale day in the greater Twin Cities area. I’m not a jetsetting kind of girl.
Favorite cheap eat: Yamo house noodles, $5.25. I also eat 2-3 super burritos a week. Very helpful in maintaining my girlish figure.
Favorite dive bar: 1020 in New York (110th and Amsterdam) holds a special place in my heart because I used to throw a lot of ice cubes and get into a lot of trouble bartending there. $3 beers on tap. Ask for Ray and tell him Laura sent you. Don’t go upstairs.
Best deal you’ve ever gotten: Free drinks for three years in New York City; see above. Though, really, I paid in other ways; oh, how I paid.
Favorite free thing to do: Boning. Do people ever say anything other than boning?
If you woke up a millionaire, what’s the first thing you’d buy?: I told all my friends that if I ever made a million dollars, I’d take them all to Burning Man, so I think I’m locked into that now.
Despite not having money, do you still love your life?: You betcha.
Do you own my book?: No, but I heard I can borrow Isaac Fitzgerald’s copy. Snap!
Do you own my book? If not, you can buy a signed copy on my website. Or holler in for our giveaway!
Best hangover cure: Cheese fries. Garlic fries. Any fries. And Netflix.
Are you a hipster?: That’s such a Catch-22: the very fact of being a hipster is defined by denying your adherence to the title. Either way, I prefer to self-define as “not an asshole.”
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