Author Archives: Constance Ann

About Constance Ann

Constance Ann Fitzgerald is Editor/Curator at Ladybox Books and the author of Trashland A Go-Go. She lives in Portland OR where her happiness is wholly contingent upon whether or not there is a dog in the room.

Color Wheel 


Holly Golightly calls them “the mean reds.” Sometimes they come in concurrence with the blues, which I guess makes them something like “the awkward purples.” 

It makes me not want to leave bed or get any work done. I feel totally unmotivated and uninspired and that’s been really rough because there are things to do but I just can’t bring myself to do them. 

Today I got myself out of bed, showered, performed the ritual of make up, and took myself for a walk to find some lunch/get some air/move my body. I didn’t really want to put any money into the economy today, but I didn’t know what else to do. 

I left in search of samosas, because that’s what I felt I needed. I usually wear headphones and walk to music, but today I thought I’d just walk and let my mind wander. 

I thought about international women’s day and how it’s a nice idea in theory but it frustrates me that we can’t just celebrate women and lift each other up all year long. And how stupid it is that there are men complaining about the lack of Men’s Day, even though there is one, it’s every day, and also sometime mid-November. So, congratulations. Y’all get paid more, get to regulate our bodies, get most of the calendar year to focus on yourselves and a whole day set aside to feel doted on. Cool. 

I thought about making a list of all the women who inspire me or have had an impact on my life and realized it would be insanely long and resolved to just continue to do my best at expressing my appreciation as it strikes me. Because it doesn’t need to be a specific day of the year to let someone know what they mean to you.

I thought about how my dad used to break into the pound and steal his friend’s pets so they wouldn’t have to pay fines. 

I thought about stopping in the pet store to meet dogs but felt like a creep so I didn’t. I need a dog friend, or a friend with a dog. I need a daily dose of dog. 

I ate my lunch and a woman walked by my table and signed at me that she liked my hair, and I like that ASL is formulated so you don’t always have to be fluent in it to understand it. 

I stopped for a cup of coffee and listened to two women who seemed to work in writing and publishing, predominantly in recipe books. I listened to them belittle a colleague, talk about speaking Italian, what they require while dining out (surprise, the impossible standards of someone who has never served), mock “mommy bloggers,” ask what the next frontier in publishing could be, trash self pubbing, and talk about how hard it is to get a book out. I thought about chiming in, but bit my tongue because it was pretty clear they wouldn’t like or value anything I had to say. 
Walked home in the rain with a paper bag of groceries that somehow didn’t disintegrate, but the doorknob fell off in my hands again so I went back to bed.

zine machine/queen & upcoming performances 



​Tonight I’m running off more mini zines and practicing for a reading tomorrow (2/27) at the Jade Lounge that is centered around the thing we idealize the shit out of but barely understand: Love. The good, the bad, the morbidly grotesque. We’ll cover it all. Music, stories, poetry and more. 

I’ll also be reading at Powell’s City of Books on March 20th as part of Smallpressapalooza.

ICYMI: Interview @ Volume 1 Brooklyn


“It was important to me to represent the people in this book as authentically as I could. They aren’t just characters, they are people that I love. So more than my revealing them through storytelling, they revealed themselves to me during a time of tragedy.

And if I’m going to try to show other people as authentically as I can, then it’s only fair that I do that with myself as well. The dynamics between myself and whoever I’m discussing have to be as close to the truth as I’m capable of seeing them as an inherently bias human being. That includes the deeply real fear of someone saying something I can’t handle. Or wanting to punch someone in the face because they can’t handle what I’m saying.

Caring about someone at all is opening yourself up to the possibility of damage. You care, you get close, you share things and get vulnerable/take off your shell and expose all your soft, easily stab-able parts.”

Tobias Carroll of Volume 1 Brooklyn had some great questions for me about Glue, Ladybox Books, writing, and the damage caused by even choosing to have interpersonal relationships. 

Read the full interview HERE 

Two Years 


On the two year anniversary of my sobriety I take a long walk and set out on a day devoted to rewarding myself and celebrating this huge thing I did. 
At lunch I sit facing a window, eating Al Pastor and watching the rain fall. Behind me are two groups of women who take turns laughing too loud and shouting across the small tables at each other. 

“If it’s what you you want, take a stand.” 

“If I hate someone, SHE hates some one” 


Choruses of laughter that grate on my nerves and I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve been those women. 

Landside comes across the speakers and suddenly the volume of everything else is turned down. Fleetwood Mac playing at random in public has long felt like a symbol of my mother being here with me. 

I enjoy the song. 

I finish my lunch. 

I gaze out the window and watch the rain fall listening to Stevie Nicks talking about time making us old. When the song ends the volume of the space catches up as though it never changed. 


Woke up this morning to my 720th day without a drink. 

720 days where I didn’t wake up or go to sleep vomiting 

720 days where the night wasn’t spent on the bathroom floor 
720 days where if I made a shit decision it was mine to own and I couldn’t shrug it off by saying “oh, I was really drunk” 

720 days without a $60+ bar tab

720 days where I may have said “I need a drink” but then really had to evaluate those words and dig the fuck in and figure out how to deal with it. 

If you would have told me in 2013, and definitely in 2009, that this would be something I was proud of and actively working toward, I would have laughed in your face. 

Two. Years. Sober. and hopefully many more to come.

Interview: CLASH Media Podcast


Had an astral daytime slumber party with Leza Cantoral for the CLASH Media podcast this weekend.
We talked about my novella, GLUE, mermaid hair/beards, Portland strip club aesthetics, biker culture, my dad’s role in said culture, zines, Ladybox Books and a lot of other stuff!

We had a great time chatting and probably could have gone on forever.
But we didn’t, you’re welcome ✨🖤✨

Click HERE to listen to me treat spoken statements, like, you know, questions..?

photo cred: Leza Cantoral

Three Words & A Lot of Excuses 


featuring/co-written by Garrett Cook 

I love you very much but I’m afraid we can’t do this
because you are full of bullet holes

I love you, but you’re on fire

I love you, but you’re radioactive

I love you, but I don’t love you

I love you, but I’m actually the girl in middle school
who you ran for class president against assuming
you would lose and she would be happy to be class president
but then you won and I was really angry

I love you, but we have fundamental differences in character.
Like how you don’t have any

I love you, but there’s a face underneath my face and that face is a void
that has voids upon voids behind it and when you stare into it
you will see all the unkindness of the Earth

I love you, but you harbor a darkness that makes the Devil himself
check his closet before he goes to bed at night

I love you, but you’re gay and you’ve always been gay just because I said it.

I love you, but my love is not the “straight camp” you are looking for

I love you, but my love is not the recovery center you require

I love you, but we’re on The Price is Right and we can’t do this here