i went to new york city for work during a week in which the average temperature at any given moment was 164 degrees, even at night. NOT SMART!!
what i wore to sit in the front row at “oh, mary!” because those were the last seats left so by the end of the show couldn’t tell if i was soaked in actor spit or my own perspiration // what i should have worn to sit in the front row at “oh, mary!” because those were the last seats left so by the end of the show couldn’t tell if i was soaked in actor spit or my own sweat.
what i wore to attend cats: the jellicle ball the same night as THEE sir andrew lloyd webber // what i should have worn to attend cats: the jellicle ball the same night as THEE sir andrew lloyd webber
what i wore to nervously flop sweat in a fancy box at the metropolitan opera house because my generous and gorgeous friend susan sits on the board of the ABT // what i should have worn to nervously flop sweat in a fancy box at the metropolitan opera house because my generous and gorgeous friend susan sits on the board of the ABT.
i’m a horrible person to travel with gastronomically speaking because i do not eat anything exciting or fun because if i die from a punctured bowel it simply cannot occur aboard a delta commuter flight to grand rapids, so while my lady had all sorts of finger-licking delectable goodness this is what i ate on the trip:
the BLT from black seed bagels in the mornings
liquid iv and mini diet cokes from the store
80 milligrams of prozac every day
TGIFriday’s potato chip skins (??) kirsten found in the airport
paitan ramen from ivan ramen one night
the ginger chicken salad from sweet chick a different night
these suja immunity shots for “health”
chicken soup and a $3 sliced banana from room service
fancasting all fours: finally i’m on the same page as the culture and reading the same it girl book everyone else is reading, which makes me feel smart and cool. i finished it last week (two weeks ago??) and let me say, the sex stuff was very sexy and provocative and disgusting, just the way i like it, but the thing that interested me the most was the way the book portrayed the narrator’s life as an artist and her relationship to her work. i’m fascinated by how much absolute nothing she did while seemingly not feeling the least bit remorseful about her lack of production.
i’m gonna boil my eyes out of my skull staring at this laptop all fucking day and on the days when i don’t make anything worthwhile (most days!) i feel like dogshit and wonder what the point even is. it was refreshing to read about a creative person who seemed free of that dumb guilt and constant rationalizing. anyway, i was listening to who? weekly and lindseybobby were discussing the book and who they envisioned as each character and since i’m all out of my own ideas i decided i should, too. hollywood, LISTEN TO ME:
the narrator: melanie lynskey (DUH)
davey: will poulter okay, let me explain: while i was reading the book i kept picturing channing tatum because, and i apologize in advance, the fact that dude was a hiphop-dancing gas station attendant made me think of the first magic mike installment. but then i googled channing and realized he’s like 46 years old? since when?? that’s insane because i’m at the age where everyone on TV is younger than i am no matter what. so i had to readjust my thinking and tried to come up with someone young who wouldn’t make me fall over laughing the second he started fucking KRUMPING in front of me. and i think will poulter is him. hot enough to make me swoon through the windshield, serious enough for me to take him, uh, seriously.
harris: christian slater (with glasses)
jordi: lena waithe perfect, right?? a swaggy, calm and cool lesbian with “rooted sexual energy” or whatever she called it??? come on!
arkanda: beyoncé (DUH again, although rihanna would work, too)
it wouldn’t be me if i didn’t point out the book contains some pretty glaring fatphobia (“i was so SURPRISED this fat lady was APPEALING and wow o wow her big ol’ disgusting fat body is SEXY can you BELIEVE IT”) and i don’t do so to harsh your mellow, just to point out how easily a book that’s supposed to, i dunno, make restless, perimenopausal moms feel seen and sexually empowered casually punches down on an older, tertiary female character for no justifiable reason? i mean, i could get into the reason, BUT: 1 it’s dumb and 2 no spoilers. i know i am fighting a losing battle because everyone despises fat people but it is exhausting how often movies/books/TV use a big ass as a device to villainize an otherwise ordinary character? sometimes you’re supposed to hate them based on zero anecdotal evidence, just their bellies alone! i’m not even sure why i bring it up, maybe to sharpen your lenses for this dehumanizing bullshit? or because i want people to notice that i noticed?? anyway it’s always a disappointment, but never a surprise, and if you don’t get it just swap in a marginalized community you actually care about until it clicks!
my man ike turner (not that one) recommended this killer podcast you didn’t see nothin and i am fully consumed. “in 1997, lenard clark was beaten into a coma by a gang of older white teens simply for being black in a white neighborhood. at the time of the attack, yohance lacour was in his early 20s, writing plays, selling weed, and living at his dad’s house on the south side of chicago. unable to stand by as the media transformed the hate crime into a fairy tale of racial reconciliation, lacour began working with a local neighborhood newspaper to investigate the vicious hate crime. you didn’t see nothin finds lacour back in chicago after a 10-year prison sentence, tracking down key players to examine how the story connects to the present moment, reflect on his role as a journalist and storyteller, and explore the exploit of power in chicago.”
i love a narrative podcast, and i’m also really into you’re wrong about-style corrections and examinations of historical events we’ve collectively misunderstood or misremembered, and this one is so freaking good. plus yohance’s deep, gorgeous south side baritone makes me extremely homesick.
the only reason i know anything about anything young people and/or terminally online wannabe young people are paying attention to is casey lewis’s newsletter after school. her newsletter, plus a handful of text-based relationships with cool young gay men, are the only thing keeping me abreast of what the kids are up to.
a quick rundown of some of my summer beauty essentials:
monkey butt powder
salud agua fresca hydration granules (my water has to be special)
tatcha water cream
a teeny tiny sprinkle of superfine popcorn salt on a sweet treat
generic flonase (i have one in every pocket, in the car, on my desk, you get it)
gatorade zero arctic cherry
sudafed (the real kind from behind the pharmacy counter that the government tracks)
supergoop watery face sunscreen
these good ass tortilla chips
these good ass banana chips
i have a beef with survivor (i just finished the most recent season) and i would love to repair our fraying relationship but first it’s gonna have to make a few changes. i’ve watched every season but i don’t talk about it because i’m not a fucking nerd, but these new era seasons are testing my loyalty. can we get some old people again? some regular ass moms who aren’t also secret crossfit enthusiasts? some regular ass accountants who don’t also moonlight as bodybuilders? i need to see some regular ass asses. i need to see some people who haven’t obsessively memorized every episode of all 732 seasons of this fucking show. i’m over the gamebots who talk strategy every waking minute of the day; where do you work? what kind of car do you drive? what’s your favorite chinese takeout spot? read any good books lately? please talk about literally anything other than the reproductions of challenge puzzles you 3D printed to practice on at home. can these people start fighting again? can they make out with each other in the middle of the night with disgusting unbrushed teeth again?? and please feed them! bring back the auction!! yes, i care way too much about this!!!!!!
while we’re fixing shows can we talk about drag race? i love it, i live for it, i die for it, i gag for it, BUT: we need them to bring back the constructive critiques. i don’t ever want to watch anyone be humiliated on television but it’s disconcerting to watch queens having a sobbing emotional breakdown on the main stage after the only thing we, the audience at home, have heard is fawning praise. so either let us hear michelle yelling about a bodysuit or cut the tears and let us feel happiness!
some songs i’ve been listening to on repeat these days:
“seasoning” antony szmierek (this bumps)
“stakes is high” de la soul
“twuneanunda” dwele
“love heart cheat code” hiatus kaiyote
“end of an era” dua lipa (bumps bumps bumps)
“caught a lite sneeze” tori amos
“roy” idles
“worthy” megan thee stallion
“colossus of roads” hurray for the riff raff
“chihero” billie eilish (THIS BUMPS)
“harness your hopes” pavement
“ungodly hour” chloe x halle
“how to meet yourself” hiatus kaiyote
“take my time” normani (another bumper)
“blueslides” schoolboy Q (gorgeous!)
“it’s good to be king” tom petty
“weird” kaytranada (THIS FUCKING BUMPSSSSS) (see also: this!!!!!)
“everything’s beautiful” hiatus kaiyote (everything they do is so dope it makes me sick)
i’m a fish bitch, as you well know, and i wanted pickled shrimp a while ago so i made some. here’s the thing: they’re incredibly easy and delicious, but you have to make them in advance then wait an entire day and that stinks. i am not patient, so to make the waiting worth my while i had to make a whole production of it and do a big sunday brunch with grits and biscuits and setting the table and zzZzzZz that’s so boring. here’s what you need:
-a pound and a half of peeled and cleaned shrimp (i used frozen)
-a big, sweet yellow onion, sliced thin; two lemons, sliced thin
-a bunch of chopped garlic
-¾ cup apple cider vinegar, ½ cup vegetable oil, ¼ cup capers with brine
-¾ tsp celery seeds, ½ tsp sugar, ½ tsp salt
-cholula, to taste
combine everything but the shrimp in a big mixing bowl, then taste it. adjust your acids and seasonings to get it how you like it, then toss the shrimp in and stir it all up. transfer to a big vessel with a lid (i used a giant pyrex baddie similar to this one), then stick it in the fridge for a minimum of 24 hours before you eat it. i served mine with
-slow-cooked grits (butter, salt, pepper, and a splash of cream to finish)
-zingerman’s pimiento cheese
-i am never making my own from scratch biscuits literally ever
i’m halfway through out there screaming, the black horror anthology edited by jordan peele, and i’m portioning it out as slowly as possible so it lasts longer because it’s so fantastic i wanna scream. one of the things that’s most striking to me is how strange the stories are? it’s flooding me with the same endorphin rush i felt the first time i read nana kwame adjei-brenyah’s friday black, that feeling of like, oh thank GOD they’re letting black people be weird. more horror i gotta get to:
horror for weenies emily hughes
stephen king you like it darker
the reformatory tananarive due
i was a teenage slasher stephen graham jones
josh malerman incidents around the house
since i last mentioned movies, i’ve watched:
challengers (in love with this dude, wow)
immaculate (worth it for the last scene imo)
kong vs godzilla: the new empire (reliably fine)
monkey man (marry me, dev patel!!!!!!!!)
civil war (so so good, SO FUCKING GOOD, i loved it)
the holdovers (i loved it, i love paul giamatti, i love that tall kid)
i saw the TV glow (got shut down in the group chat for absolutely hating this, but i stand by that opinion)
hitman (watched it on a hotel TV and couldn’t turn that weird smoothing off, so it was okay but also i feel like i hallucinated it instead of consuming it because i can’t stand looking at a TV like that, it scrambles my brain, but glen powell is very handsome)
the fall guy (should i………………….write a rom com?)
the bikeriders (everyone was hot and cool to look at but why did not a single one of these people have any sort of interior life?)
the greatest night in pop (incredible, i miss the 80s)
the idea of you (I LOVED THIS?????)
babes (perfection! please make more movies like this!! please!!!!!)
a quiet place: day one (so excellent and i spent the entire movie worrying about the cat)
longlegs (i’m mad about how great this movie could’ve been!)
npr has really been tearing shit up lately, and you deserve a treat:
chaka khan tiny desk
tierra whack tiny desk
meshell ndegeocello tiny desk
ps, summertime = yacht rock listening season!!!
