The awesome moment for me at Pitchfork this past weekend wasn’t in finally seeing Bjork perform, nor in hanging out with my friends in a patch of shade as music played around us. No, it was stumbling across the book tent (only $10 for one of Lia Purpura’s essay collections!) where I discovered Samantha Irby, writer of bitchesgottaeat.com
She has a book of essays due out soon and I snagged an advance review copy of “Meaty.” And boy, do I feel like an ass for not knowing about her sooner. I’m about half done and the essays are hilarious and filthy, strewn with curse words and still tender and vulnerable. She pulls no punches as she writes about dudes, Crohn’s disease, diarrhea, her mother. Tender and fucking hilarious.

The awesome moment for me at Pitchfork this past weekend wasn’t in finally seeing Bjork perform, nor in hanging out with my friends in a patch of shade as music played around us. No, it was stumbling across the book tent (only $10 for one of Lia Purpura’s essay collections!) where I discovered Samantha Irby, writer of bitchesgottaeat.com

She has a book of essays due out soon and I snagged an advance review copy of “Meaty.” And boy, do I feel like an ass for not knowing about her sooner. I’m about half done and the essays are hilarious and filthy, strewn with curse words and still tender and vulnerable. She pulls no punches as she writes about dudes, Crohn’s disease, diarrhea, her mother. Tender and fucking hilarious.