Roz Chast
Roz Chast
Rosalind "Roz" Chastis an American cartoonist and a staff cartoonist for The New Yorker. She grew up in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, the only child of an assistant principal and a high school teacher who subscribed to The New Yorker. Her earliest cartoons were published in Christopher Street and The Village Voice. In 1978 The New Yorker accepted one of her cartoons and has since published more than 800. She also publishes cartoons in Scientific American and the Harvard...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionCartoonist
Date of Birth26 November 1954
CountryUnited States of America
I like being able to go grocery shopping and not feel that I'm fighting a thousand people.
I had to get good grades and do well in school - my mother was an assistant principal and my father was a teacher - and they took this very seriously.
My kids always joked that I spent more time cooking the birds' food than I have cooking for them. And it's probably true.
I putter. I nurse old grudges. I fold origami while nursing old grudges. I think about the past. I wonder if there's any grudges I should start.
Theres something about most phobias where theres a tiny, tiny corner where you think this really actually could happen.
I gave up on ever trying to get 'my way.' I barely knew it existed.
I like being able to go grocery shopping and not feel that Im fighting a thousand people.
Grime is not like messiness or some fingerprints on a cabinet; it takes a long time to accumulate.
Childhood - that was not my favorite time in my life.
I always imagined my little cartoons on plates for some reason.
You would open a drawer, which my father had jammed full of newspapers, and the bottom would drop out. There were buttons and screws and nails and bottle caps and jar lids – the drawer of jar lids! Why? Because they're made of metal and maybe there'll be another war and we'll need the metal. A friend of mine – I quote him in the book – says, 'You have found the source of the river eBay.'
A friend of mine gave me a very good piece of advice, which is if you don't think your kids are going to want it, don't take it.
I noticed that I used to go to second hand shops and flea markets and find funny, cute things, but now I go into those stores, and I think, This is dead people's stuff. This is all, like, somebody cleaned out their parents' house, and I don't want any of it. If I didn't want it from my parents, I don't want it from your parents.
It's almost selfishness, taking care of your mental health. You can't just not do it.