Binks Update. Leaving NYC. Turning 27. Traveling. Aspiring. Whining.
It’s been two months since I’ve written a blog. Not because I don’t care about blogging. I do. I just got busy, so this post is a bit of an update. It’s a bit of a stream-of-consciousness style approach. I’m like, journaling about my hopes and dreams, and my insecurities, and my plans. It’s a bit unedited. There is truth in the facts, but there are delusions of grandeur in my hopes and dreams. That is probably how it should be. Right?
If you want to follow in my footsteps in life, here’s where I’m at. If you want to use this information take me out, try. I am the comeback kid (I fail a lot).
TLDR for the past 2 months: I left NYC for the Summer (or longer), I turned 27 in Paris, I got kicked off Instagram, I re-prioritized my immediate life goals (spoiler alert: they’re creative goals, cos I decided I wanna live a creative life. I think I always knew this, but I needed to prove some things to some people first). I haven’t done anything about these goals, but I came up with them, and I wrote them down, and published them. I’ve learned it’s important to start things. Imperfectly. Edit later. Case in point: this blog. this website. All of my art. My corporate career. My wardrobe. My reading list. Everything, basically.
There are a lot of visuals that I chose not to include here. There’s like, 6 at the bottom, as a treat. You would’ve seen these visuals on Instagram, had I not been kicked off. I plan to build out a page on the website that features photo/video with captions, like I would post on instagram. For now, you get writing. So, the updates. Not in any particular order. And Links, not affiliate, and not Ads, I’m just feeling nice, and devoid of parasocial relationships, cos my IG dms are no longer.
So, the long-form updates, for those who don’t think my writing is too long to read (if you didn’t know, TLDR means Too Long, Didn’t Read)
Left NYC.
I’m subleasing my Nolita bedroom. For GOOD. The lease was up in October, but I couldn’t live like that anymore. By like that, I mean in my small hot bedroom, on my noisy street, with my expensive rent. NYC had been getting on my nerves. I needed a break.
I keep saying its for the Summer. I have no idea how long its for. But I do hate Summers in New York. Too hot.
So, I moved to my parents house in Monmouth County, NJ. Temporarily, until I figure out what my next move is. There’s a beach breeze and space to paint, and free feed, so I am not thinking about next moves yet. You’ll know when I start. There will be much To-Do, and lots of whining, I’m sure.
I have intentions to live part-time at my Nana’s beach-house on LBI at some point this summer. My parents love to host, so there isn’t much peace and quiet. Not yet though, cos that’s a lot of moving for the month of June.
I also want to see how long I can milk the stay at my Parents House. It’s nice here. Albiet loud and full of life. I’m slowly inching into my hermit era. To blossom anew. Maybe. If I re-enter the social scene, you’ll know. I never move in silence, for better or for worse.
Kay to explain a little more, my Nana’s house is deffo a grandma’s house. But it’s like, on the sand on the beach. But the furniture is a weird texture and the pillows and mattresses are lumpy and springy and it also has this carpet that freaks me out in the same way sand does. Weird on my feet, like nails on a chalk board. Plus, it always feels a little humid in there. Like my hair never fully dries. It’s a sensory thing, but she has an ocean view that makes these complaints seem really bratty and illegitimate (I am bratty and I do say things that are illegitimate, thats the schtick honestly). Also I love spending time with my Grandma, she is funny AF honestly, and cute, and sweet, etc. So the pros outweigh the cons.
Attended my close friends wedding
This is my first friend-wedding. I’m 27 now but I was 26 when the wedding happened. It was very sweet and sentimental. It also looked like a fairy tale and she was a fairy-tale bride. I loved checking out everybody’s outfits. Lots of style.
I also realized that if I choose to get married, I actually don’t want to have a wedding. That’s a really rude thing to say coming off of a close-friends wedding, honestly. But It’s alot of money to spend on an event that goes by in the blink of an eye. Sorry everyone, who was picturing my royal-wedding style Vogue-spread. It’s not happening. I’ll opt for a vacation-elopment if it comes down to it.
Her baby brother gave the sweetest speech. It was a poem. I cried. The thing is: He’s a frat boy turned aspiring Irish actor. We went to college together, so I know him well enough to picturmy own Villanova-frat-boy-baby-bro standing in his place. More importantly I was able to picture the poem to be about me, told from the POV of my brother. It’s the big-personality, steal-the-show by any means possible older-sister trope. I love making things about me. Obviously.
I used the app pickle to rent the bridesmaid dress. I don’t feel bad about this, because I can’t really Afford to Buy a dress that I plan to wear once, that I actually want to be photographed in. Especially one that I don’t even really want or need in my closet. There are regular dresses that I kinda need in my closet that I also refuse to buy, so there’s that. I have very Weird guidelines about what I can and can’t afford. And it’s not really about the $$$, honestly. I think this has always been obvious, but it is explicit in this update.
Since afford is not about money, you can piece together what I actually mean by understanding that I am a Qualitative person, not quantitative. I care about things like context, purchasing experience, purpose, quality, validation, whether or not I am enjoying and believing my own fabricated logic, whether I am enjoying the cause and effect I made up in my head, etc.
SO, I love the app. Highly recommend. The final dress was a Sachin and Babi Bow Dress. To be a truth-teller, it took a lot to get there, and it was an uphill battle. Like, I got the dress the day before I flew to Ireland. I had gotten this other dress (made by Acler) that was approved by the bride a month in advance. I rented it twice, and both rentals wound up being too big. It was kind of a nightmare. But the final dress was perf, and I wanted to serve cxnt in the pics. Dresses priced at retail, in my budget, were no good. This is what had to be done. I did feel cxnty on-site in Ireland, after all the stress and running around NYC renting blue dresses. Though in the final moments before we left for the church, had to RUN to my hotel room and redo my makeup. Unfort, I looked like a CHAV. I don’t like getting my makeup done. Prom makeup sucked too. My hair also holds a curl like no one’s business, so my hairdo did look like a toddler-in-tiaras baby. I forgot to smile when I walked down the aisle. I promise I was happy.
I got my garden-party day-after dress at Amarcord Vintage in Williamsburg. There’s a photo of it at the bottom, cos my IG was taken down. I did race to post the pic of me, in that dress. Not to be a weirdo, but this dress meant a lot to me. I felt like a princess. The venue looked like a place where princesses would hangout, so it fit my delusions. I was lowkey playing pretend in the gardens. I also wasn’t hungover, because I don’t drink, so I got to really lean in to feeling like That Bitch in my Big Dress. I adore the color and pattern, but it’s also my first ever couture purchase. Made by the scandalous John Galliano. The shop-guy gave me a real-good education, making the purchase well worth it. I plan to do a whole blog-post about style and fashion and my understanding of it all. Which is new for me, cos for most of my life, I didn’t give a shit at all about clothes or style. Now it takes up a fair amount of my mental real estate. So I’ll save the story time for a longer tangent.
I’d legit hyperlink her wedding pictures and password because I’m a freak like that. I think that would be a weird invasion of her privacy. She was a model in highschool, walked paris fashion week. So you can imagine how she looked as a bride. Those photos belong in magazines.
Traveled in France
I have to acknowledge that after my move OUT of NYC I was super stressed, so much so that I almost didn’t want to go to France. Obvz I go to France, but not after short-circuiting while packing, threatening bailing, nearly throwing-up-from-stress level-over-reaction. So I’m in France, I’m experiencing happiness for the first time in months and I have a real Transformative Experience. Last time I went to Paris I was in HS, and I was with my family. Now I’ve lived in a city, and I was visiting a city with my two city-slicker best friends. It was a really different context.
Paris is perfect (to me). It is beautiful. As it should be, cos like, their society has been focused on beauty for like thousands of years, and America is a baby society that has only existed for like, 300 years.
I got a really shitty haircut on the sidewalk. From the Sidewalk Haircut Cowboy from Hollywood, or whatever he calls himself. My friends and I saw the tiktoks of this guy, and we needed haircuts, and we joked about potentially running into him. I longed for it, honestly. I get shitty haircuts in Chinatown, anyways, and the novelty of this experience is something I really wanted. I also really wanted a haircut. So I was Fckng Thrilled when we actually ran into this guy. Until he started whispering things about Spirit in my ear. Then I realized we maybe fcked up. My friend still got her haircut after I got mine, which was great, cos we were able to suffer together. I didn’t get the haircut fixed. It is entirely uneven, from every angle. I look at it every day and tell myself: this is a good souvenir. But no one will know this hilarious backstory when they assess my botched haircut. I tell myself: There is Nothing You Can do (I can literally go get the haircut fixed, but I actually just Do not feel like it. Plus, it does feel like a souvenir).
I love the concept of artist colonies. Can I JOIN YOU? Why don’t we have these in America? How do we establish them? Is that what we call a cult? I had already been dabbling with the pros and cons of joining a cult. This parallel I just made up in my head may seal the deal for me, honestly. I just want to be around people who are not cookie-cutter corporate capitalists. I am kind of a cookie cutter corporate capitalist, but its a Force, and not representative of my True Spirit, Obviously. My corporate alter ego is soooo Performative, and like so is everybodies (imposter syndrom, derrrr) but like, this whole thing is Way Harder for Me. Only cos I Needed to Prove Myself to Everyone (because everyones world revolves around me, and my world revolves around everyone’s perception of me). Like, see? I Can fit the Mold if I want to, which is Especially Impressive, considering I’m Out-of-the-Closet-bipolar and all. Meanwhile some guys little brother is flailing in Corporate America, simply cos it Sucks, no Mental Illness to blame! What a concept. Life is hard for everyone, not just me!
So, now I have done my due-diligence, fitting the mold and everything. And I’ve landed on the decision that France is better, and I want to live there, and working to live (or barely working at all) is way better, culturally, than America’s Hustle Mindset. Like, I did the field research for all of you, and I can tell you: it is not all it’s cracked up to be. I’d much rather join an artist colony. In France. Or we can start Artist Colonies in America, though they probz wouldn’t be the Same (or as good). Cos it already seems like America’s version of this is just a cult.
Sometimes I wonder if I had gone to art-school, if this pipeline to cults and artistry and potentially-tasteful and well-done tattoos would’ve been quicker. I think that is probz why my cookie-cutter parents steered me towards Villanova, and away from arty-schools. Smart.
Back to being in France.
I was super paranoid about being hated cos were Americans. I think we are more pitied than hated. We witnessed some badly-behaved Americans, I was like fckckkkckckk you’re ruining our rep, but people deferred to speaking to me and my friends in French, so I was glad about that. I took French for 4 years in Highschool, but I actually suck at French, I don’t remember a lick and I understood nothing. Still, I want to move there.
We stayed in the 11th which was like the LES, and the 3rd (the marais) which was like Soho/Nolita/The West Village. Cute, but way too much pedestrian traffic. I loved Montmartre. I kept trying to STOP comparing Paris to New York. Especially cos I just decided Paris was waaay better, and that NY sucks (cos I don’t live there, so I’m willing to say that until I move back). Like, New York was total copy-catting some of the stuff in France. Though for good reason. Like, more of that is needed. Please copy Paris, we need more brasseries and more loitering and community and beauty.
We also took a little 2 day trip to Marseille. It’s an up and coming art city, apparently. I knew nothing about it before, but my stylish little bestie from LA always knows Cool places before they’re Cool. Or like, before they hit Tiktok. So Marseille was Def more laid back than Paris. (I was excited to go back to Paris.) I think I was happy to see Marseille, but I’d probz like other towns in the South of France a little more. If I could afford them (I probz can’t). Marseille was deffo a city on the beach, not like, super relaxing boujee vacation. But the dinners were delicious with pretty views. It was ideal that we came when we did. Cos it got really hot.
We did last minute decide to charter a boat to see the Calanques, instead of doing a hike. We’re so spontaneous like that, and the boat wasn’t that Expensive. We deserved it, honestly, cos we had a rough travel day, almost missed our train. Even though that was entirely our fault, we deserved a treat for dealing with the Acute Stress of it all.
Though we are poor 20-somethings and don’t really have the funds for a Luxe South of France vacation, we made it work, with what we had.
The Calanque mountains are really beautiful. Especially from a boat. Not from a Difficult Hike. I don’t mind hiking BTW. I ran cross country, so I’m good at trails. I just like pretending like I’m a viking princess on a sail boat way more than pretending I’m a woodland fairy on a hike. And I wasn’t in the mood to play-pretend in the woods, having just been in Paris. I didn’t want to Appreciate Nature, I wanted to be Chic AF. But deciding on the boat instead of the Hike took like, 0 convincing. We all would Much Prefer a luxurious sailboat ride.
Thats what I love about traveling with these two, BTW. We are all on the same page about where we want to go, what we want to do, how we want to spend our time. We have the same tastes and priorities and preferences. We travel very well together. We also lived together, so we know all about staying with eachother in hotels and then some.
I’m also happy I got kicked off IG, actually, so I could be more present with my besties. They probs appreciated it too, though theyve never given me a hard time about my constant picture taking or snapchat storying, and now, tiktokking.
Don’t air BNB in Paris. No AC, FCK tons of stairs. Like carrying luggage up 10 flights. Did it, wouldn’t do it again.
Picasso Museum, now I’m infatuated with Picasso. Surrealist Museum, now I’m on a surrealist kick (I think I always was). Important for my development, deffo! The other museums were kinda whatevz. The gardens/parks were super pretty.
I think that the attention to beauty and detail was in everyday life. I literally think the air was thick with something that changed how I was experiencing the world. I felt more present. It sounds corny when I say it, but that’s what it was.
I organized the planning by neighborhood, so we knew what to hit when we were in each area. Mostly I knew, cos I did the research. But I did it in an excel sheet, which was a mistake. What I recommend you do is create a guide on Apple Maps. That way you can whip out your spots as you walk around. I was adding places to apple maps as we walked by, if they were particularly pretty or had a big fashionable crowd. We didn’t have a chance to hit every place we wanted to. Guess I just have to move there!
I’m cocky and bragging cos now I will always say my fav ever burger is from Ferdi. It was so camp in there. So playful and fun and God I love the French, I love their Minds.
We ate pastries for breakfast every day, full blown coursed out dessert, for breakfast, and I lost weight. Probz cos we walked like 10 miles a day. I wore my disgustingly beat up Sam Edelman Kasey Square Toe Ballet Flat that everyone always asks me about. Or at least they did, when I was posting my outfits on IG every day. That isn’t even an affiliate link, I’m just being nice. This shoe is soft leather AKA super comfy, but tight at first, then stretches really big. AKA not meant for long term. I’m rough with my shoes, they’re destroyed after a year anyways. I replaced them with Repettos, from the flagship store, really thinking I’m That Girl or something. Repettos, the day after my birthday, in Paris. I liked the backstory of the shoe (mommy made comfy shoes for her ballet dancer son, heartwarming, self-starter core…self-made legend….so me…) and whatever, my CC bill was already high from pastries and I had Nothing to Show for it, I wanted something, I actually needed something sue me. Guess what? I don’t even like the repettos as much, and they were DOUBLE the price. FML.
I was also swindled into buying the coolest pair of jeans ever. I was on a surrealist kick, right? I was feeling kinda manic on my last day, my bestie had just left and I was roaming around the Marais Alone. I just bought the repettos, and I was filming for my Youtube Video, and stumble into a store Items Paris 3e. The shop-girl is cool AF and shes like, giving me an education, which means something to me. She’s from Ukraine, and she’s telling me about all the Ukrainian designers, and they’re like, in a war, right? So I’m like, reasoning with myself now, but I barely have to cos the answer is obvious: this is investing in a dope surrealist denim ARTIST, AKA purchasing my first piece of ART, and the designer is living in a war zone. You can see why I needed to spend $600 on jeans. Plus, it was just my birthday.
Shopping wise, the standouts were concept stores. There was a cool Japenese vintage designer store. I was feeling good and proper manic in there, focusing on the stitchwork and design and stuff I never knew I cared about. Plus, the shop guy was hot. Also, this concept store Words, Sounds, Colours & Shapes. Super dope! I looked at old stamps, a japenese vintage shop, vintage ceramics, and books about Rebellions. I adored! Should I….get involved in the rebellion? I think so. I think thats why I need my own website. Cos all the meta-platforms know I have the power to form a rebellion (joke). There was also a cafe in this place. Lit! I love concept stores, I really do. Honestly, we passed the display window several times, and one night I took a creepy little vid for Youtube incase we didn’t get to go in. I went in, by myself, on the final day. Now I get to sing my praises to you.
I wish I was in France for my whole life. Like, I wish I was born and raised there. I think I’d be better. I hope I get to die there. After a long life there. It’s just better. I don’t like America anymore. No culture.
Had my 27th Birthday (In France)
Ughhhh so much to say about Birthdays! Probs deserves its own post. I started traveling for my birthday a few years back so I’d stop having a full-blown meltdown every year. I’ve always celebrated, and it’s always been a nice day, but I always cry and wish for death. IDK. But I figure I can’t really be le Miz on vacation. Plus, when everything is new, everything is beautiful and confusing and I can impart positive whimsy thoughts on regular things. It started out with a trip to Newport Rhode Island for my 24th, then I went to the Hamptons and had a proper bender in Montauk for my 25th, for my 26th I was sober in Los Angeles, and for my 27th I was in Paris! Things are snowballing nicely for me. The travel is a gift in itself. I much prefer experiences over items. I also like items. As long as they are thoughtful. I don’t like accumulating things that are useless. It gives hoarding vibes and makes me feel naseous. I can never seem to get rid of shit from my childhood bedroom. I think the feeling and the situation is closely linked. That’s something I’ll talk about another time.
A few days before my birthday my friends got me vintage Chanel sunnies at a vintage pop-up. There were two Chanel sunnies I was choosing between, knowing they were paying. One pair was practical, black with a big white logo (plastic), and the other pair was dainty and feminine and early 2000s (metal). I chose the latter because I was like, maybe this will encourage me to step into my Diva a little more. But I said the whole first half of the trip that I needed to find big black cxnty plastic glasses. I have been convincing myself I made the right choice ever since. Items are stressful that way. But how I convince myself post-decision is that I don’t have outfit-maker sunnies, and that’s what my stylish little bestie described the Chosen Chanel Sunnies as. Outfit makers. She has been dressing cute since ever, and I was scared to dress cute until recently. My best friend is also really pretty, and you know it cos the two french people working the booth asked her if they could take a photo of her in the glasses that she bought for herself (Gucci, plastic). When that happened I was like, am I ugly??? And I felt super awkward and ugly standing there, and I thought about all the ugly parts of myself that make me cringe, which made me feel uglier, and more awkward. Truth is, she’s just prettier than me. I like having friends that are prettier than me, so I let the thought pass. I quickly put on my cunty new outfit maker sunnies, and felt like they were protecting me from people thinking I was ugly. Or thinking that I thought I was ugly. A person who thought they were ugly probably wouldn’t sport such pretty sunnies.
I wore a cute outfit on my birthday. I had a cuter-outfit planned, but I swapped some things around to accomodate for our morning-picnic, which we planned like, the day before. We also knew we would get carried away, and we wouldn’t go back to the air bnb to change. I needed an outfit for the WHOLE day. Like, morning to dinner. I thought of it like a cartoon character costume. That’s how I think about outfit repeating in general.
We went for to-go faux-paux coffee, took the metro, and walked to to a well-rated bakery in the neighborhood of the TOWER. Part of why we chose to do the tower was so we could send a pic to my Nana. She went crazy for the pic I sent infront of the Louvre. We didn’t even go into the Louvre, we just doodled in the park nearby. Also, the EIFFEL feels like a must-do. So we jokingly walked through the touristy areas, took some glorious fence-pics, and posted up for our picnic. We ate the most delicious pavlova ever, and had a gorg view of the Eiffel tower, and we doodled for a few hours until children started screaming and it got hot and we got hungry. Plus, we had more plans we had to get to. It was really easy to lose track of time in Paris. If I ever find myself NOT on vacation on my birthday, I will post up in a park and doodle or paint all day. I’ll bring 3 square meals so I don’t have to leave. And maybe an umbrella and a fan. Maybe I’ll even build a house there. Manifest Destiny.
We went to the Haute Couture exhibit at the Petit Palais. We took an uber at this point, cos fuck the metro, we used it a bunch and it was kinda HOT AF outside. Perfect timing to go hide in an AC museum. It was my best friends idea to go to that museum, I kinda thought it was a chateau, like the National Archives Museum we stumbled into in the Marais. So, in true Gods-Favorite fashion, we just happened on the super chic fashion exhibit, which seemed really Parisian and fitting. I was wearing my Chanel sunnies and my very colorful outfit, and the fabric of my skirt moved so pretty when I walked. It was Alice and Olivia, and no one in the exhibit would know that I got it from TJ Maxx a few years ago. So yeah, God really wanted that for us, I guess. And on my 27th Birthday. I felt very much like That Girl.
Of course, I really felt like That Girl, (being Me, using the word That not as a cultural phenom, but to refer to me as me) when we went to Montmarte a few hours before our dinner rez, to go look at the current exhibit on display at Halle Saint Pierre, an outsider art/surrealist exhibit. I liked that we were doing TWO museums on my B-day, and that they couldn’t be more opposite of each other. That is so ME. Both ends of the spectrum. You know? Anways, We had stumbled in a few days prior, but only got to flick around the Art-book store, because the exhibit itself was closed. The art books were cool, and I was kinda desperate to see what was being displayed. Well well well, we made our way through the exhibit and piggybacked on a guided tour that was entirely in French AKA I didn’t understand Fucking Anything. Didn’t matter, Some stuffed-bunnies were set on fire, plastic baby heads were spinning on scrap metal, and it was disturbing and in that way, perfect! I love surrealism. Downstairs was some colorful art made by Islamic artists. I loved that too. Equally disturbed, but less creepy about it. I felt very At Home, and I felt very ready to continue Pursue Art in my own disturbing and colorful ways. Both in Paris, and when I got home to my parents house in NJ.
I got shitty Birthday ice cream. It was shitty because I chose colorful sherbert flavors, since it was my birthday and I was feeling inspired. Cantelope and Lavendar. Done right, it could’ve been good. I still ate it all.
I doodled in public some more at a cafe. I sat by myself, surrounded by chic sexy french people who were probz like 4 years older than me, while my friend took a phonecall. We ordered drinks (menthe for me, wine for her) but didn’t get served. We left for dinner and hit a few shops on the way. I started to ruminate about why our drinks never got dropped off, and she knew what to say to shut me up. I am notoriously paranoid, and I often ruminate. This is a Known Fact about me. Hopefully my new beta-blocker meds cure that!
For my Birthday Dinner, we to a Star-Wars coded tasting-menu dinner at this tiny-little restaurant in Montmartre, called Double. I discovered it from this Infatuation review. Originally, I made a reservation at the wrong Chez Georges. I meant to book Julia Childs favorite restaurant. I discovered my mistake in the park earlier, when I did a double check. I had a hilarious phonecall with the host of both Chez Georges. I’m glad I decided to call and double check, because I spared myself disappointment and embarrassment. I usually make stupid mistakes because I don’t have good attention to detail. I know this about myself. It is a short-coming that affects my day job and my personal life. I have other skills that make up for it, I think.
The plan-B dinner wound up being very perfect, and more fitting for reasons I will describe. Double was tiny and rust-colored and the walls were all mirrored and the room was hot AF because of the open-concept kitchen. Obvi this was giving a Star Wars - Cantina vibe. I love that shit. Very Jar Jar Binks of me, too. So I loved that, cos I thought of the JJB comparison in real time. I would’ve IG storied all of this, but instead I was present and in the moment, and saved it for this blog post, and got footage for the Youtube video. The food was also alien-looking cos thats how tasting menu food looks, and it was chic af, and delish. Unfortunately, I asked for salt, cos I love salt and I need it too, cos I have POTs. So I did embarrass myself a little.
My Bday dinner waitress looked like Clairo, had sick tats (Paris also furthered my tattoo infatuation) and she was on aux, and the music was obvz amazing bc like, you had to be there, but I hope I’m describing the vibe appropriately, she just like….would….play awesome music. She was also very good at her thick-french-accent english, Cos she had to describe some crazy menu items. Though I tried to ask for her playlist, and she apparently didn’t understand me. Or maybe she did, and pretended not to, cos I asked for salt.
Also at dinner there was a chic American couple (the girl looked like Caroline Bassett Kennedy, and the guy looked like the dorky husband from the First season of White Lotus). They were probs in their late thirties, and they were with what seemed to be His parents. They were sitting behind us, facing the open concept kitchen, and there was a mirror angled imperfectly above me, so I could see them, but only when I was looking in a really obvious way. They spent the whole dinner loudly bragging like the well-off Yuppies that they were. The only time I remembered that they stopp talking so loud about their friends in The Industry, and in Finance, was to eaves drop on some things that we were saying, at a much quieter volume. Like, I set my phone to Military Time on this trip cos I want to pretend like time and space does not exist. Shut up.
There was also a guy on the boat in Marseille who was like this. I don’t like braggarts. Especially loud-in-public braggarts.
Lapin Agile is where we ended the night. Picasso’s haunt. It was a mixed art show. It was cool inside, lots of great art, great lighting fixtures, interesting crowd. An aussie who was definitely 23 or younger sat next to me and asked if I was french. He tried talking more, he complimented my doodles cos I was sketching the room, and I was flattered but shut him down cos I really am a Femcel after all. That’s kinda the purpose of men to me right now, and mostly always. Flattery. A nice birthday treat, for sure. But regarding the show, It just worked out this way because we didn’t want to spend $$$ on Crazy Horse, or any of the other overpriced Cabaret Shows, plus I hate that kind of thing, way too sexy for demure little me. Lapin Agile is kinda a cultural phenom, like recommended in an early-2000s travel book called 1000 things to do before you die. I personally never heard of it (the book, or the place) until the day we booked it, the day before my birthday. It was 40 dollars cash and only a few blocks from the restaurant. A pretty walk, too. Would definitely recommend.
Since art is important to me now, it’s important that I note: I also doodled in my sketchbook at 38Riv, where we went the night before my Birthday. So, to close out the bday story, this jazz club is technically where we started my birthday. I had never been to a jazz club before. I tried once or twice in NY, but it never happened. 38Riv is another cool haunt, not sure the exact history, but it’s a cool little cave with a cool little bar, and I felt good being down there, and they had a pretty good N/A beer and I peeled off the pretty label and stuck it on one of my sketch pads. It was a great bonus that after the main show, there was a Jam Session, where a few Hot and Stylish younger-guys came in. They had hot and stylish friends in the crowd. I turned 27 while it happened. Very good omens for this year, and very That Girl of me to be doing something new, surrounded by stylish people, when the clock strikes midnight.
I hope the omen is that new and stylish things happen during my 27th year. I’ve been very bored lately.
I just love the culture, I guess. In general, but only really specific cultures that I curate and research and map out and read reviews about. Like, not just any old culture. But now I’m just bragging about my Ability to Lock in and Plan Good Cultural Activites. Maybe I should start romanticizing any and all cultures. Like, maybe I’d be less depressed in America if I did. But I did say that I had a transformative experience in France….maybe I just belong in France.
I got home and I got to celebrate my BDAY all over again with my family. I got a dinner with my brother, and a dinner with my Nana. I love going out to dinner with my family, cos I don’t have to pay for it. Thats what it is. My brother said that I ask questions in a condescending way at that dinner. Which is funny, cos I was genuinely curious about what I had asked about. I told him: I think you’re just insecure that you didn’t know the answer to my question. He didn’t get me a birthday gift. He was probz insecure about that, therefore projecting and being a dick (he wasn’t).
My Mom picked me up random Art Supplies as a side-gift to this check that I got. I don’t care about money-gifts, and I usually forget about them because I’m a priviledged asshole like that. Let me first say: I was glad that she got me some art supplies, cos I told her I had been sketching and doodling all around France. It was very nice that she was supporting my creative endeavors. I get kinda irritated because the gifts kinda feel like an after-thought on a shopping haul through like, Costco and TJMAXX circuit. Which is fine, like I don’t have the money to spend there, even. But like, my parents do have enough money to like, get even the bare minimum bottom shelf art supplies, but one step above like… , idk what I’m saying. I’m being a brat. This is an upper-middle-class problem. But when I get little gifts like that, gifts that I don’t particularly need or want, I start to feel like a hoarder. I also feel ungrateful, and then I feel guilty. Not ideal experience. So I don’t really love receiving gifts. Or money. I guess I’m never happy!
Another bratty thing: the check was enough to buy a macbook. I kinda threw a hissy cos I was like, asking for a macbook approx 3 weeks before my bday. The short little pitch was that I needed a working computer in order to pursue my dreams and like, write my blog and edit my videos once I get my work-computer taken away (I write my blog on my work computer). And my Dad told me he supports my writing goals. He’s like, if you can pursue it and see it through, then I can see it happening for you. What he doesn’t know is I have a bajillian goals (he kinda does, I sprinkle it in, to Stockholm him to the fact that I want to pursue 1 million things at once). So I was like, is this a crazy bday ask? And he was like: no, it’s not. Cos in my family, there has been crazier financial asks. But then I got the check and I like, shed a few tears cos I was like: do you actually believe in me? If you do, why am I buying my own birthday gift, instead of the agreed-upon technically-work-related gift? Brat behavior. I know. And all this guilt and self loathing was mixed in too, trust me. That, layered with unbridled entitlement. It was disgusting. Way worse than when I asked for a Canada Goose jacket in college. (I don’t have a Canada Goose, and I never cried over it, but I also never understood why I couldn’t get one, cos I got an equally expensive jacket that was not what I asked for, and I felt like a hoarder for owning it and not wearing it). Its a weird thing. I mentioned it to my therapist today. I was bratty and whiny over it. Upper-middle-class problems. Sorry. I’ve outed myself as being insufferable. And entitled and privileged. At least I harbor guilt about it instead of just accepting and owning the fact that I have privilege. Woe is meeee.
Anyways, I think a lot of the sketches I’ve been doing would horrify both of my parents. I think my book would horrify them to. I plan to write many books, if I’m being honest. Hopefully one if them will make my parents proud. My dad reads my blogs sometimes. I hope one of them eventually makes him proud, too. Its probz a rollercoaster. Especially this one, where I admit to fucking sucking. But not Fucking. Thats good. I’m pure. I’m a virgin, basically.
I’ve showed my parents some of the sketches I think they’d like. They did like them, and they said I should write and illustrate a children’s book. This is something they’ve said for years. I don’t like children. I don’t think they need to read what I write. Unless we want a demented generation. Then I’ll get to work.
More Updates:
Pondering leaving my high-paying corporate job
Nothing new here. I’ve been feeling this way for months. IDK how obvious this is to the internet. I see some of you viewing my Linkedin profile, I have premium. I know you’re curious. More on this later. I’ll even share my salary, so you can see what I am willing to sacrifice.
If you’re worried about my boss seeing this, she quit. So… whatever.
Got Kicked off Instagram
I mentioned this, but Ai tools flagged a story I put up at Jardin Tuileries, while I was in France. I put up thousands of millions of insane stories and posts all day long no matter where I am. This was bound to happen eventually. It just sucks, cos I was prepped to flex on my IRLs, that I finally had a Euro Summer trip of my own. All my cute outfits…everything. Gone! And no reference that I even exist at all! Instagram went ahead and took down all the profiles in my account center. AKA my @cutiebinks account, my personal account @dicsokelley, my moms cheese business account @figandtwigcheese, and the @StraightUpNoChaserr sobriety pod account (which has since been restored)
Instagram is the only platform where I have been growing. Over on Tiktok I am actually losing more followers than I’m gaining. So getting kicked off IG made me reprioritize a few things. I will talk about my priorities later.
Reprioritized my creative goals
Ok later is now. Uhhh my goals…what are my goals? I’m shy to say. You know why I’m shy? Because they are evidence of the delusions of grandeur that exist in my head. This is how I look at myself and the world. It’s crazy. But like… I believe in myself. So I’ll share, and you can decide if you believe in me too.
Youtube. I am going to make a Youtube Video from all of my France footage. I started filming the MOMENT I got shut down on IG, cos I am quick to pivot, and I am a content legend. I felt really off the grid, like Heart of Darkness Congo River filming, Anthony Bourdain, but Wes Anderson too, but make it an Upper Middle Class Thot with mental illness, particularly Manic-Depression, and a quirked eye. Yes, picture all of that, and then go subscribe to my Youtube and wait patiently for me to edit. It will be posting ASAP. The faster I post, the worse it’ll be, so hopefully it takes a few weeks from now.
From that point, I will make many artistic Youtube vlogs.
Do I think I am going to become a film-maker just because I filmed a Youtube video? That I didn’t even edit yet? Yeah. I do actually. I am saying all this here as if I am doing manifestation work. By reading this, you’re kinda manifesting on my behalf. Maybe, if you want Big Things for yourself, you should also write insane grandiose blog posts. Humiliation rituals are healthy, too, if the manifesting doesn’t work out.
Flushing out more Bad Edits/Tiktok style. This sounds silly as a goal, but I’ve been shy to talk on Tiktok, and I made a whole second account to chat, and then post crazy edits. I love my crazy edits. What happened was, back when I was popping off on Tiktok, like, when I first started (I’ve been flopping on Tiktok ever since, BTW, but I landed on the Reddit and like crashed out over it, a win is a win, but it’s also a loss…two things can be true at once….)
Anyways, my fans from back then who probz unfollowed during the Great Jar Jar Depression (fake) told me to “Never Change”.
Well I have a funny little thing called Bipolar Disorder, so I am guaranteed to change, actually. And it’s guaranteed to be extreme. So this was a promise I couldn’t have kept. But it was a promise I made a video about, I felt weird switching up my TT style ever since. Like, in my head I had become revered for my little shimmy, my fast text, whatever. Well, It’s not easy to maintain that anymore. The whole point of the Chinese Dancing App is that it is easy and fun. The whole reason I made it onto the FYP is because I posted 6X a day.
I haven’t been on the algo in a minute, and maybe thats because I went through a 6 month period of saying depressing and suicidal shit. Like, sure, maybe the kids shouldn’t witness that. Or maybe I could blame the fact that the Chinese app is now an American app, and its on Meta servers, and Meta does not Fuck with Jar Jar Binks. Obviously. Cos they kicked me off Insta. Whatever, I’m switching it up. I think I’m just flopping cos I’m boring and depressing kinda, but now I’m getting happy again, and I’m being silly af with my bad edits. I’m also Showcasing My ART. So yeah, just working on allowing myself to change and develop.
Making ART! Yay. I’m doing art again. I always liked doing art. I even did it in my Freshman year dorm room at Villanova University. I painted and made a mess. The basics did NOT see the vision, and they def thought I was weird AF. I even went to the art club a few times. My dorm-hall friend who accompanied me let me sharpie all over her painting. I did that because I thought her painting was ugly, and that I could improve it. No shade, that is how I look at my own art, to this day. Just cocky, honestly. But I do think my sharpie skills improved her artwork. Just saying.
My freshman year roommate hated me, probz bc I painted in the small dorm room during the day and then came back FUCKING WASTED at night, toppling over everything, etc. IDK…….. I feel like if you buy into that kind of thing whole heartedly, it is pretty lovable behavior. At least for a freshman. Like, she is definitely giving it her all! She is spraining her ankle on her step stool, and bruising her ribs. She is drunk when she wakes up, that’s awesome! By Sophmore year you probably need to get it together, organize things, make a few tweaks. For me personally, I went manic sophmore year. So “need” is relative. You don’t “need” your freshman year roommate to like you in order to have a good 4-year college experience. Though she may transfer and then post about you in the reddit influencer snark page if you ever become internet-famous.
So. Anyways, I knew I was a BadAss Tweaker Grafitti Artist type in middle school when I got detention for doodling in black sharpie all over this random girls Yearly Planner. She was pissed and cried cos she actually did not ask me to do that. It wasn’t my best work, admittedly. That’s the thing with sharpie. You can’t really edit it. You have to double down. And that’s the thing I’m trying to figure out with my art, too. It hits beautiful points, and I love it, and I keep going dummy hard AF on it (sketchbook page, canvas, all of it) and then I ruin it, and then I have to save it again. It’s like: when do I say when? With sketchbooks I can flip pages and go hard AF page after page, with slight variations of the same thing. I’m learning canvases are very expensive, so what the fuck. I can’t just RUN through them at an alarming rate. Or can I? Someone with experience: please enlighten me.
ART GOALS: Yeah, a separate goal from simply making the art. I am being vulnerable and a dreamer when I write this, so be tender with me. I am trying to make enough art to hopefully show in a gallery. It can be a meet and greet sitch or something, but truly I would just hope people would show up. I’m a SELF MADE artist. SELF TAUGHT. I’m FORCING things to happen on the canvas. These things DO NOT WANT to be brought to life, much like ME as a spirit, being cast down to earth and into my mother’s belly.
My resume is that I am a certified tweaker, and most artists are. So I hope to further develop my resume, and develop a portfolio, and apply for a residency. In France. Or Mexico City, but preferably France. I love Mexico City and apparently so did these surrealist bitches from the 40s that I’ve been watching Youtube Videos about. Surrealism, like that museum I went to on my Bday. It’s Kismet. See, I did have a Profound Experience in France. Gods plan.
Writing Goals: Continue blog, write book. Then write many books. I’d like to be an author. Not much to say here. Just what it is.
Tiktok / Online Goals Again: promote my art and my writing so I can reach the aforementioned goals of gallerys and books. See, there’s alot on my plate, but it overlaps and is interwoven. Making it far easier, actually. Dad, if you’re reading this, please follow the thread. No thoughts, just vibes. Facts sometimes bring you down. Sometimes God moves staircases, Hogwarts style.
Website Goals: continue building out the website cos I’m fucking banned off instagram and have nothing else to do with all the time I spent DOOMSCROLLING AND SHIT POSTING. I added a chatroom section. I need to put art on there, and other stuff, idk. Post my pics. I really havent thought about it because it’s alot of work and I have a full time job. Who am I kidding, I barely work. I hate having a corporate-job. I need to build out the mental health page and sobriety page.
TV Show: my best friend and I (the one in LA) want to do a cartoon together. For television. Perhaps it can be hosted on my website at first, and then you guys can offer perspective, and then we pitch to Television. Or something. IDK.
Computer Game: I’d like to do a spin-off computer game/video game from the doodles/TV show. As a kid, I liked computer games. Neopets, Toontown, Club Penguin, Poptropica, Mullberry, and some other random shit, like discussion board style video games that I found my way onto. I still think about this often.I learned a lot, honestly. I think it also made me a really weird person. At my core.
I stayed up til like, 5 am just dicking off on the computer my entire Youth. At least, the portion of my youth where we casually had laptops. I was born in 1998, and I think I got a laptop in middle school at some point. I hate kids, so I stopped paying attention to what age correlates with what grade. I think I was in 5th grade when I entered my laptop era. I played games on the PlayStation3 and the Desktop computer before that. So archiac.
Fashion Designer: Why the fuck not. Now I’m really getting Grandiose. When the Amancord shop guy directed my friend and I to watch the John Galliano documentary, cos I bought I John Galliano dress, I became inspired. Like, he was so theatrical and creative. I am so theatrical and creative. Recently, someone told me to make Merch. They meant, like, T-shirts. Then I went on a manic tailspin and was like, I could just start selling clothes, but with some signature elements that make it obvious that it’s my merch. I know how to draw. I could just start designing clothes, basically. And to save money, I can sew them (I have no idea how to sew). My best friend in LA knows how to sew, maybe she will sew up clothes I draw (she would not do that). Like, I could make jewelry too. Maybe I can just start making Jewelry. It seems easy. See, by writing my insane goals online, I am dabbling in being crazy, but I am also stockholming my readers into believing it could be true. Let’s just consider that it could happen. Like, I feel like it could happen, if I wanted it to. If I had crazy merch on my website, would you buy? (I already did this poll on IG, people said they would buy. Unfort, I can no longer market and promote myself on IG. So. There’s that).
I’ve already admitted my later-in-life goal of using all the gobs of cash I have to fund research and development of Proper Mental Instutions. Maybe I can turn all the mentally ill people into my indentured servants. They can toil away in the basement factory making all my merch. It’ll be really chic in there so they probz wont mind. I’d way rather be doing that than what I personally was offered during my 3 separate psych-unit stays. Wards suck. Reform!
See, I should be rich. I’m so selfless and Humanitarian Coded. My goals are Pure and for the betterment of society.
Exercised/Excercizing my Couch Surfing Skills
Kay so I’m like, good at couch surfing. I did it only for one era. But I was stealth. Sure, it led to me accidentally dating someone. Two people, kinda. One boyfriend, one dating. But it’s all semantics. Kinda. The point is… I skirted by without a signed lease or rent for a good chunk of time. Yes, this was at everyone elses expense. But I definitely came out on top, with only some light trauma and fight-or-flight living.
Now I am staying with GIRLS-ONLY. And I’m only staying with my close-friends.
So far, I’ve stayed at my coworker-turned-close-friend’s nice-ass apartment in FIDI (she used to say it was in Tribeca, but now she has come to terms with reality. It is a beautiful doorman building. In FIDI.) Her little brother moved in downstairs, and he has a fun little Villanova-fratboy roommate that likes to impose. I love him. I’m often around Villanova-fratboys who graduated after Covid. This kid is always showing up unannounced, toes-out with a cocktail, ready to crack jokes and vibe. That’s the kind of person I was when I went to Villanova, too. When I returned from Paris and stayed for a few days, she was fostering puppies. It was a very soft landing back in America.
I did not want to be back in America.
Today I’m heading to my best friend and her Fiance’s apartment in Williamsburg. I love Brooklyn, and I love hanging out with them in Brooklyn (and in general). They’re big explorers. And they’re big Locals. Like, they participate in the community. I want to be a person who participates in the community, too. It makes me kinda shy. A good example of this is when she and I and our other Bestie lived in Park City for the winter. She was the one chatting up the other Townies and made us our little friend-group with the twenty-something transplant-Ski Instructors. She’s sweet and chatty and just Good at that kind of thing. So we will probz go on walks, and I’ll sleep on the couch and drink all their coffee.
I’ll probably have to give like, hosting gifts to these people, because we’re kind of adults now, and free-loading is kinda weird and rude lowkey. Lowkey though, cos I’m not 30 yet, and I’m about to make myself unemployed. AKA please take pity on me til I become Self-Made, then Everything will be my treat!
Enough Bullets. I’ll just pony up and write some paragraphs. Plus, I have to go to the Ferry soon. And I have to shower cos I have B.O. from sitting on the front porch all day. I have to venture to Williamsburg and it’s about to downpour and I really wanted to walk to the Duane Reade on Belford to pickup my perscriptions (Lithium AND my new Beta Blocker Script… hell yeh!)
Next time I’ll perhaps be more organized with my writing, unless I’m busy and flustered and rushing to go somewhere. I am not promising anything, but I am suggesting a few things to expect.
So, obviously, when it comes to my pursuits, I am trying to blend personal and professional. Yes, I still have my desk job. Yes, I make 95k a year (wage transparency….) yes I hate capitalism, and I want to be my own boss. I never wanted to work corporate, I just did it to prove to my family that I could, that I tried, and that I earned my right to stop driving up that avenue (I have 3 corporate jobs under my belt, in 3 different industries, all under the umbrella of Marketing/Business Development). My dad is a business guy. My mom was a teacher. She wanted to be a doctor. Shes an artsy type. I’m an artsy type. I would go the career-route with that, she did kinda, later in life, with her interior design degree. She also picked up real estate for fun. She put that down. She picked up photography. Put it down. Picked up Sitting on the Monmouth County Child Advocacy Board, put that down. Picked up Cheese Board Business. Perhaps a storefront in the future, perhaps cheese-tours through Europe. I love the parlay. I mention all of these to show what example has been set in terms of multiple career-pursuits.
There was a time I said I wanted to be a lawyer, but just to be impressive. I still want to be impressive. Probz the inner kid in me who got like, bullied and called a weirdo. Thankfully now I know myself better, so I can take the path of least resistence to impressive-ness. Also, with law, I thought I’d be good at it, I thought it would be easy for. I like to read and write and talk. And you know what is actually easy for me? Blogging and shaking around on tiktok, writing little tidbits about myself in brain-rot format. Not quite law, but the same skillset, kinda.
So before I confirmed I hate corporate and didn’t want to be a lawyer, I signed up for the LSAT. I was steadily growing increasingly manic, and I went to Asbury Park to study. I bought a Gremlins notebook at some kitsch vintage emporium, posted up at the Asbury Ale House with a pint, and cracked open the second-hand LSAT study books I had brought with me. I wrote manic notes for like, 10 minutes. And I people watched. And then I thought I saw some people I knew, which was likely considering I was in the area I grew up in. So, I got paranoid and left. And I don’t think I ever picked up my LSAT study books ever again.
This was the same episode where I dropped 2k at Michaels Craft Store. Took me a few more months to go from studying in a weird, alcoholic way to pursuing my creative dreams at Michaels craft store. Now I live at craft-store level of delusion, all of the time. And everyone around me just seems to accept it now, because I ramped up slower and I gaslight better now. Plus I’m on meds. Whatever. All that to I say: I am consistent. And that I have big goals. And I am prone to Improve.
When I went to college, I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I joked about working at a sloth sanctuary (cos of that one time I went to a sloth sanctuary with my family in Costa Rica). That kinda got blown out of proportion, cos I said that in my student council speech. I kinda made my whole speech a joke, and the crowd got rowdy, and I won the election, God I am such a good politican, but I got in a lot of trouble. And this lady made fun of me. Have I told this story before? I think about it a lot. This lady who ran student council, she made fun of me in the regular-History class she taught. Only thing is, I was in Honors History. She deffo was not smart enough to teach Honors History. SMH. There were teachers who actually taught me who also didn’t like me much. That’s how I learned that I am polarizing. I like that I went to a pretty-good college, just to stick it to them. That’s another reason why I have so many big aspirations. To stick it to people who were dicks to me.
So, now I am trying to do everything. I started tiktokking because I love talking about myself online (My stream-of-consciousness shit-posting began on snapchat, if we remember). I got sober right before that. Sobriety has kinda done this thing where I regain clarity, look at the world differently, have more time, have more ability to act on my intentions and ideas, etc. So as I continued to sober up, I remembered I liked writing, and I started a blog. (As a kid I liked writing short stories, but as I got older this translated into being a chronic-texer. If you love texting, you probably deep down love writing, too. Just saying). I remembered I like doodling and drawing and painting, so I’ve been doing lots of that lately, too.
I’m broke AF. And when I say that, I mean that my rent was $2400, and Con Edison Gas and Electric and Spectrum (I don’t watch TV but my roommate loves Bravo) and Trader Joes and Wholefoods and the Office Cafe (they don’t comp the lunches, cheap-o’s) all adds up. So I only wind up with a couple Thou in my bank account each month. Also, my dental work and oral surgeries have put me into debt, and I am legit doing after-pay on my invisalign. So I use my credit cards, but I haven’t ever once touched my points yet, techincally I can travel with those even if I have 0 dollars. But, I am being somewhat financially responsible by leaving NYC and moving home to NJ. No rent = more money. No NYC activity temptation = more money. Train and Ferry to NYC = less money than rent. AKA I’m gonna be fucking rich. BUT the only problem is that I want to quit my job. So I will be net-net. Plus my credit card points. I think….I think I might be rich. I don’t like to check my bank statements, and auto-pay overdrafted my bank account, but then my paycheck came thru, and I was fine again. Something tells me if I continue this way, the energies of the universe will conspire in my favor. Cos I am not a slave to money. Plus, I barely shop for clothes, I get creative with it, and I barely EVER shop retail. I don’t think I am above capitalism when I say this. But I’ve been doing things this way for so long that I actually feel uncomfortable in most retail-shops. But this guy I was seeing last fall took me in some nice swanky designer shops, and if I had money like that, I’d probz feel real comfortable in The Webster, and other places like it.
So I’m frenzied. I’m stressed. I’m writing a shitty blog as quick as possible to update people who didn’t necessarily ask for updates. I’m starting things and I’m not finishing them, but I have a whole life to finish them. Everything is a Work In Progress, It may get done eventually, by the end of my life. Maybe not. The important thing is that I am starting things. Like, I’m actually doing them. I can edit later.
The starting and not finishing applies to books too. And I will end on this note. Since I can’t upload reviews to my IG story/book highlight, it doesn’t even matter if I finish the books (kidding). I haven’t finished any of the books I’m reading, and still I will give you my two cents. Also, I feel guilty about my book-juggling and I just want to explain WHY I haven’t finished any of them.
Simone De Beauvior’s “The Woman Destroyed”.
I thought the cover was super cxnty. Jewel Tone Doodled Cig Lips. I could so do that, which is why I really engage with anything. It’s always about ME. How it relates to ME. I read De Beauvoir in one of my philosophy classes in college. Arguably better read, I think it was the second sex. I honestly don’t remember. If I hated it, I’d remember. With this read, I just thought I’d get to know her better, not in an academic setting. I learned she got some crazy accolade, super smart score on a philosophy test, ranked way up there with her lover Jean-Paul Sartre. For a sec I was like, I’m an existentialist too, I’m soooo De Beauvoir, I HAVE to read her shit, so I can confirm I am wicked smart. But then I was like: wait, I’m not like her at all. Still, she kinda slayed, and she was smart AF, I love that shit. But I don’t love the book. Worth it to read, just to look at that cxnty cover and think: mine. That’s my book. Like I want to reach for that cover and give it a hug and a kiss and say me and you forever babe. About the book itself? Like, the writing? :(
Interesting how the prose changes, I literally don’t care about what’s going on, I’m trying really hard to attach myself to literally anything: the character, the plot, the inner monologue…but…it’s work. If a novel is going to make me work, lose the plot, let me read theory. She’s barely sticking theory in. It’s like, concepts of being forgotten? She was aging, and I’m stuck on the last narrator. I thought I was getting philosophical wisdom in a cxnty girl book. It’s not that. I’ve heard her other books are better but IDK anymore. So I guess I’ll watch a Youtube video. (Side note: I’ve been doing that ((watching YT videos)) about 3 female surrealist artists from the 40s, and I’ve been taking notes. They were cxnty AF, and I wrote my favorite most relatable parts about them in my sketchbooks. So cxnty and basquiat coded. Ugh. Master Manifestor).
Charles Bukowski’s “Notes of a Dirty Old Man”.
Ayyyy. I like bukowski. He is a chiller, and became an author later in life which I like, cos like, why TF am I in corporate, I wanna be an author, too! Then I remember Bukowski (I literally just dove in on Bukowski like, 6 months ago, only now reading an entry book, but like, this monologue just happened too, like, this week) So I think: this guy worked at a post-office for many years before blossoming into a literary legend (IDK if he’s that ((a legend)) but his prose is dope cos its really off the dome ((off the cuff, no edits, I don’t use the word dome or the word dope unless I’m joking around, which I am and am not in this case. I know some people who would like Bukowski probably say “off the dome”….)) whatever. Hes Chill).
Main takeaway if I am making it about me: not all creatives pursue creative careers from day 1. Me and Bukowski are soooo alike in that way. We are late-bloomer creatives. Awesome. Sure, maybe I am reading this to validate my own wack prose, bad edits, degenerative writing style. I also like that he kinda harassed people via mail to get his writing on their desks. I’m like that, too. For example, I got kicked off Instagram thanks to an AI flag, and I sent a bizarre email to the Chief AI Scientist at Meta, Yann Lacur, from emails I found on his website: Yann LeCun's Home Page. I want my instgram back, so I went to the Source. Bukowski also goes to the Source. I think that kind of entitled, assertive attitude breeds greatness. Alchemy or something.
Anyways yeah, about the book and the writing itself… it’s good and funny. I like it. I don’t think this book needs to be read cover to cover. It’s a bunch of columns woven together. Yes, I like Bukowski. Yes, I like his prose. He is a legendary anti-writer writer. IDK what that means, I just made it up. He’s not an annoying pretentious hyper-intellectual, and I like that. Maybe someone would let me write a shitty column, too. Cos everything about me.
Fyodor Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot”.
Yeah I have nothing to say for myself with this selection. I wanna get smarter. I wanna learn about life, what makes a good person, etc.
Side note: I love Russians. I love sad philosophers.
Making it about me: I took Russian for my language requirement at Villanova. My professors were funny. My professors let me get away with taking tests with a full page of notes next to me.
I’m not good at learning languages. I’m actually awful at it. I took french for four years in highschool, I took spanish for 3 years in middle school….I have not one greeting or phrase in my mind. Empty soup can brain when it comes to anything but English. Sad! I wish I spoke many languages, cos it forces your brain to think in different ways. Brilliant.
So yeah, I wanna get Wiser by reading The Idiot. I am getting a little mixed with all these Russian last names. I’m not good with names, either. This has gotten me in trouble at parties. This is why I never watched Game of Thrones. I am just kinda glazing over the parts where I don’t understand names and relationships. Then I realize it’s probz important and I reread, and I’m actually having trouble putting a dent in the book because I can’t figure out how important it is to know these names.
Like, I wanna be able to think in ways I’ve never thought before.
I am not deep in this book yet. No review.
Sally Rooney’s “Intermezzo”.
Ummm. Ok so my co-worker turned-close-friend has an entire library at her apartment basically. This book was recommended by someone on IG, when I was begging for book recs. I saw it while I was staying at hers post-move and pre-travel. I’m like two pages in. I don’t like sexy books, or smut, or love stories. Like most of the books I’ve been reading, I know nothing about them before diving in. This isn’t a great tactic. So I’m accidentilly starting a smutty lovey book that I porbably wont finish. I’m trying to lean into my femcel moment and this is probably too mushy, like, rubbing my face in what I Don’t really want. I need a book about like, a sexy girl who has no money. A sexy girl with big dreams living at her parents house in New Jersey. Anyways, about the book, I guess I liked the cover, and I like that Sally Rooney addresses classism and sociology in her books (apparently, I’ve never read her books). I dont really watch TV much either, but I did watch Normal People, and I really liked it!
Moral of this story: Maybe I should watch a little bit of TV right now. Maybe some movies. I legit picked up a fourth book because I’m not invested in any of the other three books I did 0 research on. I just have trouble paying attention to TV or Movies unless I’m posted in the Theatre, eating popcorn. Lock in time. I am not locked in on reading right now, and its making me feel dumb and illiterate. Hence my Youtube Video notes.
Anyways yeah. I care about learning and being smart. Especially lately, during my antisocial times.
Sometimes I think if I don’t tell someone or show someone that I’ve done something, then I didn’t do it at all. That’s why I love social media. That’s why I showed my parents my sketchbook last night. Some of my drawings are horrifying. Who cares. They are getting to know me better! (I said the same thing when I first started posting all my secrets on Tiktok. They did not like tiktok at first, by the way. They like it now, because other people liked it. That’s another reason why I am making BAD ART right now.)
If my life keeps up this pace, I may have to write more updates, instead of drawing on experiences from 5 years ago, like I’ve done in previous blogs. But part of the reason I have been so busy is because I set myself up to do as little as possible. No bills, no plans, anti-social legend living at home, dedicating all my time to …… content.
Gods on my side probably. Not because anything particulatrly good has happened to me yet, but I’m not dead. I’ve done a lot of things that should have made me dead. Not purposely, but drunkenly hitting my head on a toilet at a frat party in college, running off from my friends to hangout with a Gang in a bad-part of Washington D.C. (during a manic episode)…those types of risks. God won’t let me die. And he won’t let me shitpost on instagram. God wants me bolstering up my website. God doesn’t want me depending on Zuck, cos he wants me to be my own Zuck. That is why I had to move home from NYC and be antisocial making art in my parents Garage. Thats why I drank myself sober and dance around on my parents porch talking about being manic depressive. Like, Obvz.
Silver linings, good things, God’s plan, acceptance, etc.
I’m SUCH a modern girl. To quote myself, I’m That girl. And the only reason I could confidently say that is because I am sooo attached to my phone. In a good way, though. I don’t even get all the chronically online lingo, cos I kinda am in my own little world. I text, I surf the internet, I get in rabbit holes. I’m like, building my worldview, and researching, and posting about myself, cos I’m That girl! If anyone ever tells you get off your phone, tell them to F-off. Seriously.
The only down-side of shaping myself to be That girl is that I never really understood trends, or I would try to understand them and would get lost and feel stupid, and try to find the Origins, and wind up in a History Rabbit Hole, which ended up having Nothing to do with the trend itself. So when it comes to trends, I’d avoid them all together, cos screw anything that makes me feel stupid. That is what makes someone That girl though. Beating to their own dream, going on their phone a lot, but with Intent, not solely to consume. Like, planning good trips where you soak in the culture, taking millions of pics and videos to be creative and let the trip live on and to document memories and post crazy sketchbook edits.
So, since day one, EnV3, my parents were like: why are you always on that fckng phone? Like, it takes 30 minutes to type out a sentence honest to god, it takes all of my time. It was at the young age of 12 that my worldview became digital. Online IS real life. And since I’m kicked off Instagram and shadow banned on Tiktok, just expect more on the website, I guess. This is my home now.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoox
Thanks for reading. Sorry I didn’t re-read it myself before publishing. I’ll write a good blog one of these days, and Youll know it cos I’ll be sure to specifiy: I tried hard with this one. I did not try hard with what you just read, in the traditional sense of the word. What I did try hard to do was get it published. That’s why I had to bang it out in one sitting and press publish.
