What’s in the trunk of your car? Pictures of Mars, a penguin blanket and at least three abandoned coffee mugs.
What’s your favorite memory? Two among many: Spending hours in the tree in my grandma’s backyard with my cousins making up games when we were kids; looking out the plane window as I flew into New Zealand.
Who would play you in a movie? I don’t care who plays me, as long as Oscar Isaac is in the movie somewhere.
If you had a super power, what would it be? Teleportation. Mostly because I'm lazy and don't want to walk places.
Favorite pair of shoes (past or present): The pair of grey and pink Vans I had all throughout high school. They are yellowing and have holes in them and I still can’t bring myself to throw them away.
Some of the characters in Leyna Krow's delightfully weird and wonderfully written (and titled) "I'm Fine, But You Appear to Be Sinking" are finding their mundane lives broken up by spots of strangeness: a suburban couple suspects there might be a caged tiger in the adjacent backyard; a woman adopts the cat-eating, wombat-like creature that appears in her neighborhood. Still others are finding the mundane in the weird: a young mother lives the apocalypse over and over again; an older woman raises her dead brother's clone. But uniting these stories is a meditation on how we deal with isolation and loneliness, how we find ways, no matter how strange, to connect, whether it be through a shared delusion or a vivid dream of something only you remember or a lost map of the stars. A poignant, vivid collection.