It Comes In 3's
Bye bye January
Mutual Aid Resources To Support The People of Minneapolis
Before we get into this weeks entries, I have a query.
It’s kinda a big ask, so I’ve been procrastinating, as I do. Also kinda: a ridiculous & overzealous ask. Also kinda: something you may cast judgment onto me for. Which, valid. I love to judge, so maybe I am projecting here.
Anyways, disclaimers aside. As you’ve maybe seen me mention, I plan on embarking on a journey in April. I want to travel via the Amtrak across the U.S., and look around for a bit. I ideally want to go to Very Random Places. I am open to staying anywhere. I want to crash with friends in different states, maybe stay in hostels, maybe a third option. The third option being where my query comes in.
If you:
Live in a state in the U.S. near an Amtrak stop [ map ]
Are 21+
Are interested in letting me crash with you sometime within the month of April/ would be down to showing me around your city/town/neighborhood/ what you typically do in your community
Are okay with me documenting things via writing/ recording footage (can anonymize if needed)
This would be very Pro Bono on your end (sorry). But if this piques your interest, let me know.
I am open to couches, air mattresses, & pure vibes with a roof over my head. I am open to staying virtually anywhere- cities, suburbs, rural communities. If you would be interested in housing me for a day or two and willing to hang out & show me your town, please direct message me here or on instagram [reallyreallynormal] and I would love to set up a call to see if it would be a good fit. Just wanted to put out a feeler to see if there are people interested/ if this is a feasible option. Maybe it is not. I dunno. Can only find out by asking.
Also side note. If you live in New York and would like to play pool/ trivia/ darts/ cards/ etc. before/after my trip, you can also message me as well. I’d ideally like to talk to everyone ever this year. That’d be nice. Except predators. Please no predators message me. Just merriment-seeking people in their 20’s willing to let me be very-merriment-seeking with them.
An unnamed life trajectory altering event took place this week. And then another. They are so life trajectory altering that I cannot write them out yet, because I need to pretend like they do not exist first. Yes, I think that this is exactly what I will do. Suppress, suppress, suppress. Avoid, avoid, avoid. My only acknowledgment of their existence is this sentiment: they seem bad in the moment, but I think that this will be good in the long run. Only time will tell. I need my memory to get a bit hazy on the details first before I can write them down. I can’t document it while it is fresh, or the specifics will be too vivid and too seared into my memory. Need to Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind my brain right now.
Monday.
2:19 am. Can’t sleep. Again. What’s this about? Haven’t ever really struggled with the entity of sleep. I typically fall into a deep, snoring, unattractive, mouth agape slumber. When my friends were on tour and staying in my apartment, and it was the five of us crammed within the constraints of my twin sized bed and two air mattresses, I felt mortified the next morning to hear them recount my deep, booming, snores. Once I’m back to my regular routine, I won’t be taking these deep, booming, snores for granted ever again.
Alarm is set for 7 am because I would like to will myself into Manhattan to go to the MoMA today. I don’t know if I will still have this desire five hours from now. I've been wide awake for the past two and a half or however long it’s been since I’ve squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to militantly force myself into a deep slumber. Mind is racing in a very disorganized, fragmented way. Incomplete sentences, incomplete thoughts. Can’t seem to catch up to figure out what it’s even racing about.
Half thoughts popping up and overlapping one another include:
I love public transportation
I should call my parents
Headache, tumor, hypochondriac
My friend redacted
My friend redacted’s relation to my other friend redacted.
My relationship to redacted’s redacted.
The concept of playing Hinge
My 1st job at the Italian ice shop
My like, 10th job. Teaching.
Brandy Melville
A cup of lemon ginger tea
A pint of Guinness & a looooong drag of a minty vape followed by a loooong drag of a Marlboro Gold followed by a looooooong swig of my pint of Guinness
Chewing ten adderalls & following that with a baby bump of an upper and then just feeling briefly, momentarily, on top of the world.
The heating pad tucked away under my bed that would feel very nice right now
A phone call with redacted that would also feel very nice right now.
The podcast I like to listen to when I can’t sleep is called Other People’s Lives. I’ve just finished listening to their most recent episode: “I answer calls for the s*icide hotline”. They added the * in the word suicide, not me. Didn’t realize it was an adding an asterisk to a word, type of word. I’ve been using it freely this whole time. Whoops. I love listening to the hosts speak. Joe & Greg. Just two random dudes. I think that they are both influencers who I know nothing about, and I’d like to keep it this way, to not form any opinions on them. The show isn’t about them anyways, it’s about: Other People. It rules. Well, it doesn’t rule tonight because it’s not lulling me into a deep slumber, but usually. It rules.
World, please. If you want to be kind to me today, you will allow for me to be fast asleep now, without me having to put up much more of a fight. Please. Let me just be lulled off into peace and harmony and good dreams and good vibes. Amen.
2:52. Can’t do it. Sipping on my bedside water that’s placed directly on the floorboards, since I do not have a nightstand. No nightstand, no headboard. Just me and my off-putting vibes. This is 24. Sweating and nauseated. Feeling jittery. Want to pace around in circles but won’t actually do that. Curled up in fetal position instead. Think I will look through my collection of Polaroids now, hidden in the box that’s in arms reach under my bed. Yes I think that this is exactly what I will do.
2:58. Okay. Did that. Wow. I’ve accumulated some Ex’s over the years. This is why I keep these hidden away, tucked in the box under my bed. Maybe the Ex Energy directly under my bed is why I’m struggling to sleep. I mean, nowhere else really for bad things to go than: directly under my twin sized bed, in my twin sized room, in my twin sized apartment.
Going to rewatch the last bit of Paris, Texas now. Don’t really feel like it, but I think that this will do the trick to make my eyes feel heavy and lull me into sleep, the way that movies often do.
Okay. Starting the movie from the 1:03:52 mark. Halfway point. I actually really love this movie. I’m at the scene where Travis and his son are walking up the hill from school. Every clip is probably just the most beautiful clip I’ve seen in my life. The color grading is how I color grade my Dreams and Memories in my head. This movie looks like two hours and twenty six minutes and fifty one seconds of my Dreams and Memories.
3:04 am. Commercial break. Wishing I was eyes shut willed into slumber, but this is probably the next best thing. I ideally need to take like 20,000 steps tomorrow. Think I’ve been jittery since I’ve been doing a lot of standing around doing fuck all lately. And then lying around doing fuck all when I come home to document my standing around-ness. In the mood to ideally walk for a ridiculous amount of time tomorrow. Maybe I will go back to the goodwill and walk and walk and walk down every isle and inspect every article of clothing. Sounds more intriguing than my original plan of walking around the MoMA. We’ll see what I decide in the next 3 hours and 54 minutes until my alarm goes off.
3:21 am. Commercial break. Typing to say that this might be my new 3rd favorite movie. Maybe was supposed to be lulled out of my slumber to appreciate this movie more at 3:22 am than I did when I first watched it 48 hours prior. Oh wow that was fast. Commercial over. Bye bye.
4:27 am. Movie over. Ow.
Feeling: happy, sad, slow.
Time to letterboxd. Don’t have a good review. Just, beautiful. Any comments I have make me feel like a know-nothing snob. Reading Elliot’s review he wrote in 2022. “this movie is mulholland drive but for sweeties.” Yes, exactly.
My eyes are squinting shut. So ready for my deep and sweet embrace of slumber. Want a glutinous breakfast tomorrow. An All American breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, hash browns, sausage, a bowl of assorted lackluster fruit. A bowl of cheesy grits. A glass of pulpy orange juice. Won’t have any of that. But want it. Want to go to Texas. Want to see a vacant lot in Paris, Texas. Want to hug someone. Want to interact with a child.
Not in a strange way. There’s no not strange way to verbalize that thought, I just want to speak to someone who hasn’t experienced enough of the world yet. I love children so much. Thinking about the two little girls I nannied in high school. Lily and Ruthie. And then the two little girls I nannied in college. Chloe and Aubrey. And then all the sweet babies I worked with this time last year when I was substitute teaching. That’s always been my favorite job. Teaching. Substituting specifically. Low-commital, low stakes. Just glorified babysitting really, and getting to be around sweet spirits. Subbing is the only job where I’ve done a good job, I think. I always got praised highly. Adults were so kind to me. Teachers would ask my secret. I could calm any colicky child pretty instantly. I don’t know. I just love speaking to children. I miss it. I wish I knew a kid here in New York to chit chat with, but every being I know is in their 20s and like, in the service industry. Need some Real Adults & some babies in my life right about now.
Can some of my friends please start getting knocked up soon or something? No, that actually would be kinda awful. Agh that final scene in Paris, Texas where she embraces her son. Agh. That’s where this whole want and desire is aching from. Okay, 4:36 am. It’s time.
Grasping an old Polaroid in one hand, my childhood teddy bear in the other. Goodnight world. Time to be fearless.
8:23 Good morning world. Could use another 20.
8:40 Back. Better.
Thinking about my fragmented thought process from earlier regarding: My friend redacted’s relation to my other friend redacted. A relation that I didn’t know existed until earlier today, when he called me out of nowhere to ask for advice. I gave no advice, just said “Omg” and changed the subject, because I need absolutely no involvement in things that don’t involve me this year, please and thank you. My desire to be in the good graces of both of my redacted’s outweighs my desire for: juicy gossip & fun. My curiosity is now very piqued, but I will be good and quell this urge to get more intel. Okay who am I kidding.
OH MY GOD. I just checked his location. I snooped fuck okay yes, sue me. Oh my god. He’s somewhere he shouldn’t be. Or should be. I dunno. I do know that I am so glad to not have inputted any opinions or advice earlier. I have no opinions here really, I think it’s kinda awesome. Love when my friends get all ridiculous and do ridiculous things. Need more of that this year.
Well, time to get up out of bed and face The World, I guess.
Getting ready. Plucking my eyebrows. Did a really weird job on my left one. Consequentially tried to fix the botched job by plucking my right one a little more. Then my left a little more. Then my right again. Then I just kept going & going. Now I am here. A little eyebrow-less and a little confused at where things went wrong.
Washed my face, moisturized, applied SPF. Downed an apple cider vinegar shot. Fed the kitty. Teeth are brushed, vitamins are swallowed, morning coffee is being nursed. Life is good.
Contemplating my MoMA excursion but have decided against it. Too cold. It’s too cold in New York and I am too sleep deprived to will myself out to Manhattan. Tomorrow will do. There’s always tomorrow. Plus I have plans tonight in Bed Stuy. That’s already more will than I can muster up at this moment.
Guess I’ll go to the grocery store and the post office and clean my apartment instead. FUCK, FINE.
Sitting in the kitchen, chatting with Boy Roommates about The Lease. Boy Roommate dropped a bomb. He wants to move out a month early! A whole month! How am I going to find someone willing to move in, within the next 30 days?
I need to find someone before Boy Roommate does, or else he’s going to fill the vacancy with a random, and I don’t want a random!
Well. I was a random and that worked out perfectly in my favor, but I’d prefer to not have a random.
Later in the evening. Currently venturing over to Frog Bar to meet up with a Potential New Friend. Met her at a party last week and we instantly clicked, so now we are here. Plan is to play pool and drink wine. Perfect.
My ego just got boosted to the wazoo because while walking through the train station, a man looked at me and then turned to his friend and exclaimed, “Damn, she’s fire.” And then walked up to me and said, “Mind if I walk with you?” Yes I mind and please no thank you, but it did feel kinda AMAZING in that crowded, crowded train station. Out of everyone in this swarm of people, you’re going to choose to bother me? Actually, amazing. I’m relishing in that moment a teeny bit.
Um. I feel fire. TBF. Feeling beautiful. Got ready for the first time in forever, and feel like this getting ready-ness is going to get wasted at a wine bar. Shouldn’t I be at a club instead? I would rather do anything than be at a club right now. Just in the mood to keep being told that I’m fire, is all.
Caught a vibe with Potential New Friend, who is: a DJ & a grad student at NYU. Enough said.
Tuesday
Slept okay. Slept through the night at least. Dreamt that I got deported to Canada. I am not Canadian. Anyways. Attributing my okay slumber to the $16 glass of “Fond Cyprès” orange wine I ingested last night.
Woke up, eyes crusted over with mascara flakes. Could’ve washed my makeup off the night before, it just always seems more like a morning endeavor.
Today, I will take myself to the MoMA.
Packing my lunch for my Field Trip. A PB&J, a fig bar, a pack of cheese crackers. Stuffed a handful of chickpeas into my mouth. Chugged an apple cider vinegar shot, my 6 collagen vitamins, 4 ashwagandha vitamins, 1 multivitamin. Stood in front of my closet languishing on what to wear. Debated for too long and then realized that I could just wear exactly what I had on last night. No one new will bear witness to my appearance today, I think. Rewearing: white Brandy Melville quarter length sleeve top. Long dark wash denim skirt. My cute camel colored boots I haven’t taken off since purchase.
Can’t believe I lamented over buying these $25 boots, and now they’re the only shoe I wear. I have yet to wear my cute purple flats. Could wear them with this outfit, but I first need the snow outside to leave me alone before I attempt that feat. My perfect fur lined boots are my best and only option.
Can’t believe I also lamented over the groceries I acquired last night, only for them to be very reasonable and responsible purchases. Purchased: tinned fish, a loaf of sourdough bread, a container of blueberries, a bottle of honey, a bottle of kombucha, fig bars, cheese crackers, a bottle of hot sauce. Perhaps not necessary purchases, but purchases made nonetheless.
Felt really good about putting on makeup last night and feeling fire, that now I am doing it again today. Mascara. Powder. Lipstick on my lips, cheeks, and nose. Forgot how nice this feels, just hate washing makeup off of my face. If I’m wearing it, I’m sleeping in it.
Sitting on my train now. Ears are frozen. Fingers are frozen. Speed walked the 18 minute commute with no headphones, no playing on my phone, just me and my inappropriate thoughts and my heavy breathing from stomping through the snowed over sidewalks.
Posted a Close Friends story where I inquired if anyone is interested in taking over Boy Roommate’s lease.
A friend from home has responded! SO EXCITED. SO HAPPY. This is amazing news for me. A taste of home. We don’t know each other very well, but we’ve known of each other for years. She is a barista at the cafe I would frequent daily to acquire: my iced pistachio oat milk lattes. She is friends with Jude and my other close hometown friends. What a random, perfect, surprise.
Notes from the MoMA
Just had the most fried brain moment trying to use the fuck ass high-tech Dyson sinks in the bathroom. Couldn’t figure out how to turn the water on, and an old lady tried to explain it to me and I lost brain cells. Felt like my first day on Earth. Fuck a Dyson. Failed to operate the hand dryers as well, and just booked it out of there with dripping wet hands and the last shred of my dignity.
Watching an Asian girl take pre-filtered selfies with the ugly campbell’s soup Andy Warhol paintings. The filter is giving her thick dramatic eyelashes and blush red cheeks. Everything in this room is hideous and immediately nauseating to me. I just hate pop art to be fair. I like the idea of pop culture being blended into mainstream art, like: Addison Rae being nominated for a Grammy. That’s nice. I’m into that. Warhol paintings, not so much.
Looking at Starry Night and feeling nothing. Looking at people taking selfies with Starry Night and feeling nothing. Taking a selfie with Starry Night and feeling nothing.
Looking at the painting next to Starry Night. The painting is titled The Olive Trees. Everyone is crowded around Starry Night and The Olive Trees are all alone. I still feeling nothing. Kinda peckish. Want my crackers and fig bar.
Top floor. Looking at the Ruth Asawa exhibit. Feeling everything now. Think these feelings are half attributed to the Merle Haggard currently blasting in my headphones but wow, what a perfect sensory experience. Could stay on this floor for hours.
Done at the museum. Stopped to stare at a living poem AI display on the first floor that just made me really uncomfortable. Had to sit down.
Home now. Pretending to be crossed while sipping on the remnants of my pink lemonade kombucha and nibbling a 10mg peach yuzu edible. Faint traces of naturally occurring alcohol in the kombucha? Okay, let’s not get too carried away here.
Mila texted in the group chat. “Guinness?” Intriguing. Don’t think I have it in me, but intriguing nonetheless. Think I will stay home and avoid social interactions with my loved ones instead.
Avoided my loved ones by: rewatching the pilot episode of Dawson’s Creek. Repainting my nails 479 Wine Stock Red. Taking stupid MacBook selfies in my “Somebody in Tallahassee Loves Me” t-shirt. Loafing around and doing fuck all.
1:05 am. Can’t sleep again. Tried very hard to will myself into slumber but it is just not in the cards for tonight. Began to snoop around on my phone and Instagram deep dive, as one does when restless at 1 am. Deep dived too far and saw something I didn’t want to see, and then ten minutes later received an unrelated text I didn’t want to receive. Guess bad things just come in pairs. Or, isn’t it bad things come in threes? World! What else are you going to throw at me now?
Feeling oddly calm. Feeling a rapid heartbeat and clammy hands and toes and sucking in shallow breaths, all the signs of not being calm, but I think I am pretty okay. I want to text Ruby real bad but it is 1:08 am and I am not going to dump this on her right now. Will call her in the AM and maybe invite myself over to her apartment and be annoying and let her console me. Yes I think that this is exactly what I will do.
I feel like the only person to ever experience this, but my Instagram Reels algorithm is telling me otherwise. I’m so sad. I really want to not be sad. I’m so sad. This is so sad. Sad, sad, sad. Woe is me. Feeling very woe is me. How do people do this? I get that most people have to do this, but God do I feel like the first and only. Jesus Christ what a curveball this stupid redacted event.
Maybe this is why I’ve been having nightmares all week. My body sensed something and then I snooped around and confirmed that exact something. Just should not have been snooping because now I’m here feeling all ridiculous about redacted. IGNORANCE REALLY IS BLISS.
4:30 am. Laying here with my eyes shut, feeling my chest rise and fall. Feeling: accepting. This was just like, a reality check that I needed. Okay. That happened. What can I do about it? Nothing. What can I change about it? Nothing. Life goes on.
Wednesday
6:53 am. Light outside. Haven’t slept yet. Have a sweater placed haphazardly over my face to block out the sunlight creeping in. Body is drenched in sweat. My sheets are damp with the sweat. Have just been laying in bed shaking like a dog TBH. Wow. This sleeping thing is getting bad. I want to peek again at what I was snooping at, but I know that I shouldn’t.
8am. I peeked. Spent an inappropriate length of time zooming in and inspecting and analyzing, but now I really won’t ever look again. Well, okay. That’s that. Verbalized the statement, “I promise to never look again.” Before interlocking my left and right pinky fingers and kissing them gingerly, swearing myself to a lifetime of never breaking this promise. The pinky promise is sacred to me, I will really never look again.
Decided against inviting myself over to Ruby’s apartment because our relationship feels too fresh to showcase my ridiculousness yet, so I settled for a long phone call instead. And then followed this with a text to Garrett that I’m in freak out mode and a long phone call with him too. I have awesome friends.
Binge ate my entire container of blueberries that I purchased with the intention of adding to my breakfasts throughout the week. Never mind on that idea. Finally polished off Slow Days, Fast Company. I am now itching to: go to a baseball game. Go to Palm Springs. Indulge in a quaalude. Like, just be in L.A. Watched two more episodes of the first season of Dawson’s Creek. Half watched, half played on my phone through a 1977’s comedy titled: Welcome To L.A. Got bored. Didn’t pay attention enough to letterboxd it, so the experience felt pointless. Texted Lucy but she didn’t respond. Ugh. Hope to slumber for a long, long, long time.
Thursday
My first real day! Woken from a deep slumber, just like I wanted. In better spirits today. Need to be distracted. Distraction is healthier than lazing around and moping.
Redacted event occurred at redacted place of work. NO COMMENT.
11:00 am. Have a phone call scheduled with Potential Future Roommate in thirty minutes. Excited. Today, I will have a good day. I let myself have a full 24 hours to laze around and have my thoughts and grievances about this weeks two offenses, and now I can go back to doing what needs to be done. Have lots that needs to be done. Can’t believe I lived in the Bushwick loft almost this time last year. Life looks so different now. How sad and strange. Nice and strange. Confusing and strange. Everything and strange. I’m excited to live with another girl. This is the year I will probably need to get my act together, ie. doing better about chores, and sweeping, and tidying, and all of the things that I get away with neglecting with Boy Roommates, because they neglect these tasks too. No one minds the neglect. This is probably the year to start minding. But neglecting tasks is nice, I love to neglect a task.
11:22 am. Eight minutes until my phone call. Phone is buzzing with texts from Ex Boy Roommates in our old group chat. Awh. Boys. Miss them. Ex Roommate 1 sent a Zillow link of our old home. The renovators completely tore apart our perfect Florida bungalow, and turned it into millennial grey slop! The tile counters are now granite. The ceramic sinks are now stainless steel. The buttery cream walls are now lifeless and grey. Hardwood floors got replaced with linoleum. The exterior of the home went from baby yellow to emerald green. Barf. Every ounce of life got sucked out of our charming little home. The rent got raised a thousand bucks. 19 South Lawsona, you’ll live in our hearts forever. Inspected my side of the home, and they’ve added an electric fireplace, hideous barn doors, and tore apart my perfect green tiled bathroom! Completely massacred her. My baby.
In a selfish way, it feels kinda precious that we got the last good year in that house. Symbolic that we moved out and then the house got torn apart and turned millennial grey and granite and laminate and a thousand dollars more expensive. The three of us were the last people on Earth to experience this very perfect house in all of its glory. No one else gets that experience except us. How nice to think about. Okay, I feel better about this whole thing, a precious moment just for me and them.
Texting Ex Boy Roommate 1 separately from the group chat to gab about my April Amtrak trip. He did this trip the summer we lived together. Backpacked, and stayed in hostels, and did the whole thing. I’ve always admired him for this. Every year I say that I will do it too, and then another year passes. This is the year I do it. Boy Roommate 1 and I met in high school, he’s my longest standing friendship. He repurchased the Amtrak pass again this year “just ‘cause”, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to use it since he’s currently working on a TV show that doesn’t wrap until near the expiration date of his pass.
Re-reading my texts with Ex Boy Roommate and my texts with Future Girl Roommate. The phone call went perfectly & now it is official. Spirits are lifted. Good things are encroaching.
Doing a lot of texting and not a lot of seeing in person this week. Doing a lot of avoiding this week. Texting is nice. Easy. Uncomplicated. It can end whenever I want it to. If I see anyone in person, I’ll be trapped with no end in sight. Would rather all my interactions be through my phone, where nothing feels real.
Heading to goodwill now so that I can be a not good person on Depop. Stuffed my hands into my coat pockets because the February chill is making my fingers icy, and felt two ketchup packets that I stole from the condiment bar at Pret, however long ago. Free coffee membership means free ketchup packets to me. Going to collect these and have an infinite ketchup supply in my apartment. I love to pinch a penny. Literally. I pick up pennies I find on the street and stuff them in my pockets. I tell myself they’re good luck pennies, and when I spot one I now have to pick it up, or else the opposite might happen and then I’ll have bad luck. Unhealthily superstitious.
Ugh. No kind people holding open the train station gate today. No choice but to pay the stupid three dollar fare. Whatever. That just pissed me off. Where did the men with the QR codes that I advert my eyes from go?
Need to go to the bank and deposit cash. Need to Zelle Boy Roommate my portion of the rent. Need to do my taxes. Need to go to the post office. Need to pay my credit card. Need to do Real Adult things that I like to put off. Need to chew ten adderalls and take an upper and drink a gallon of plum soju and throw away my phone.
Wearing navy sweats, my snot-sleeved black puffer, and my red & white Adidas. Need to do the pile of laundry accumulating in my bedroom. Fingering the ketchup packets floating around in my coat pocket.
Standing next to a horribly millennial couple in the packed train car. Booing them in my head while they nose kiss. Listening to Candy #9 by the band Winter in my headphones.
Hands back in my pocket, playing with my ketchup packets. Going to squeeze them too hard on accident and then have loose ketchup in my pockets. Took my hands out of my pockets to type this thought process down. Okay going to zone out and squeeze the ketchup.
Listening to The Hellp now. Kinda want silence but I haven’t been listening to enough music lately. I love this song. Wow. It feels so good in my ears. The sun is shining on my face at just the perfect angle through the train window. Glad I made myself listen to music to then get a gorgeous experience like this. Listening to music and consuming media in general does not come naturally to me. It is something that I actively make myself do. This song feels really nice in my ears, but so does silence.
Off my train now. The cloudless sky still feels amazing on my skin. I am freezing cold but that beautiful, beautiful sun is the one glimmer of hope, surrounded by all this slush and sludge. Going to listen to this album in its entirety now and acquire some gold at the Goodwill.
Acquired: an Alo yoga hoodie & a Love Shack Fancy dress. Thank fucking god. Both hideous items to me, but hideous items that I will sell for a bazillion dollars.
Also acquired: A Brandy Melville cardigan, three vintage cardigans, a Kimchi Blue tank top, an Anthropologie tank top, an LA Apparel tank top (I might keep), a Brandy Melville zip up (I might keep), a Free People mini skirt that I want to keep but won’t, and other random miscellaneous items to be sold away.
Time to go home. Two MTA men guarding the train doors. Paid the three dollar fare again. Dammit. Whatever, spirits are still relatively high from my nice haul of items that will be in my temporary possession.
Friday
Playing Hinge and texting a man named REDACTED. Like, hilarious. Picturing REDACTED from The Goldfinch even though I know what this REDACTED looks like and he looks nothing like what I’d imagine REDACTED from The Goldfinch to look like. But picturing him as the other REDACTED makes me laugh. I picture book REDACTED to be a little chunky, a little pimply, and just a little compact and crazed.
Probably stupid to be fully saying this guys government first name and not anonymizing, but how would you get how funny this is if I couldn’t tell you that his name is literally REDACTED. Nothing will probably happen here with me and Bushwick REDACTED, well especially not now because the anonymity is sacred to me. I’m just texting to text. Being stupid and playing Hinge and all that. Playing around with freaking REDACTED.
Googled REDACTED from The Goldfinch while writing this out, and am now learning that the book got turned into a movie where REDACTED is played by: Finn Wolfhard. Definitely not chunky or pimply or compact or crazed.
Saturday
9 am. Slept well. No nightmares, no dreams. Think my week of unrest has finally subsided. Currently curled up in bed accompanied by my paperback of Beloved by Toni Morrison and my diary. Oscillating between reading and jotting down thoughts and reading some more. Wow. I want every line of her writing seared into my brain. Boy Roommate is in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Not sure what he is making, but the scent is wafting in through the gap under my door and my room smells buttery and sweet. My room is always filled with the kitchen scents: scrambled eggs and fried potatoes and stir fry and this new buttery sweet concoction. I enjoy this. It’s comforting. Homely. Having a nice sensory experience in general right now. Everything is quiet. Faint sizzling coming from the stove. The squeak of the fridge opening and shutting. The branches tapping rhythmically against the ac unit outside my window. The sun is casting shadows of branches and vines, twisted and splayed across the wall above my bed. This is the only time of day that the sun inches its way through my narrow window into my narrow room. In 30 days, I will be next door living in Boy Roommates room, where he has two windows and a slightly less narrow room than my current one. The only qualm is that our rooms are so teeny tiny that if I choose to keep his larger bed, I won’t have space for my desk or my dresser or anything else really. It would just be me, the bed, and Hopes and Dreams. And the double windows. Yes, double windows indeed.
My phone is out of arms reach and I am unsure of the time. I want to stay in this time-less moment for a long while- it feels like this is exactly how my life should be. Phone out of arms reach, curled up in bed with my notebook and a paperback, taking turns between writing and reading, the sun hugging my skin, and a pure, blissful, silence. As close enough to silence as I’ll get. My mind isn’t racing. That’s always the loudest. The wind is softly shaking the trees, the radiator is sputtering and wheezing, and there’s also the sound of my pen dancing across the lined paper at every downward stroke. Nice, quiet, blissful sounds.
Noon. Dragging myself out of bed to venture over to Pret. Looked down at my mattress and there are little blood splatters on my sheets. Oh shit. It’s time. My dramatics make total sense now. Relief has washed over me.
Pret is the Panera bread of Manhattan. Is Panera Bread a thing in New York? Googled it and yes, there are multiple Panera Breads here. Whatever. Same thing, really. The workers at Pret always look suicidal. Dead in the eyes, every worker at every location. I have decided to frequent every Pret in Manhattan, to observe more of the city.
Today, I am at the one in Greenwich Village. It’s bright and airy and they’re playing k-pop on the speakers. Ordered a iced vanilla latte from the dead in the eyes barista and received a hot caramel cappuccino. Hell, why not. It’s pretty good. Nutty and slightly burnt, but soothing nonetheless. Probably needed a hot beverage considering it’s -2 outside, but my mouth instantly said iced out of habit.
Eating both of my emergency purse snacks. My cheese crackers and my fig bar. Polished off my crackers and bar, but I want more. Ugh. Polished off my cappuccino too. Think I will now order a large cup of green tea. God, I love Pret.
Home now. Currently consuming a thick slice of sourdough bread with butter & nutritional yeast sprinkled on top. Perfection. Got greedy and picked the largest slice in the middle of the bag instead of the next one in line, a moderate and respectable medium sized slice. Feeling annoying that I just referred to myself as greedy over: a slice of bread. God.
Also consumed: a few forkfuls of banana peppers, and a ladyfinger. Where the fuck are all of my groceries I keep buying? Why is tonights dinner: toast, jarred peppers, and a cookie.
Fuck it. Opening my last tin of sardines. Now making another slice of buttered toast and adding the sardines on top, with a ridiculous amount of nutritional yeast. And the banana peppers. Disgusting. Looks rancid actually. Meme-able. This will be ingested with delight.
Cannot stop eating now. Feeling ravenous. Another packet of cheese crackers as my nightcap, and now I am done. Want to blame this on the blood gushing out between my legs right now, but I am just gluttonous and never satisfied. Moved my duvet to scoot into bed and made eye contact with the blood stains I forgot about. God. Okay. Tomorrow. Laundromat. Tonight. Don’t care.
Texting Boris about beer. Our shared love for the Narragansett. I should get a beer with Boris. I should change his name, shouldn’t I. WHATEVER. I’M JUST HAVING FUN AND BEING STUPID ON THE INTERNET. Going to leave the name in for 24 hours for the early birds and then redact. Early birds get the hot goss’. Boris is a year older than me and a libra and supposedly 6 foot. We’ll see about that last one.
Um. Texting Ex’s mom now. This is my life. Texting Hinge Man, texting my Ex-MIL. I need to stop this, I really do. I don’t want to. She sent me a cute family video of someone revealing that they’re pregnant, with twins! Twins!! We’re gushing with excitement. Wow. Love being kept in the loop like this, but I really should stop. We’re now chatting about a different family member. An uncle. I asked how he was doing and she sent me his number to give him a call since the answer to how he is doing is: not great. Fuck. So now, I guess I am going to call uncle redacted tomorrow.
Tomorrow’s to do:
Call uncle redacted. Text the man from my Bed-Stuy sublease to coordinate getting my mail, which I forgot to do this week. Laundry. The dishes. A long shower. Maybe a long walk. Read more Beloved. Text Boris. Text Jude. Text Future Girl Roommate the logistics of the plan. Text Potential People Who Will House Me in April. Freaking figure it out.
perfect read to keep me company on my day off, thank you <3
always so captivated by your entries, by the way you seem to live life. so inspiring to me <33