camaraderie

This afternoon I was having a bit of an anxious spiral over a work thing and the thought came to me, unbidden, its source equal parts spite and joy, “no matter what happens, I’m going to have a remarkable life.”

My three most stressful plans this week got cancelled? Hell yeah.

a followup to my earlier smug breeziness is that the temperature dropped more than ten degrees but the humidity rose so now I am dripping sweat in the close air of my apartment while I paint but honestly is not sweating, too, a part of summer? Is it not a great joy, too, to be disgusting and alone and squalidly alive sometimes?

Once again filled with gratitude and smugness for the shady breeziness of my apartment where I have yet to turn on the a/c and am not even suffering.

I hereby promise you that if and when I write my first novel it WILL be in the third person and third person omniscient if I can manage it.

I would say since I saw the Sargent exhibit at the Met it’s been at least once a week that I’ve thought about why I can’t get my makeup in real life to look like the TikTok girlies’ (how is the liner supposed to last more than ten minutes??) then remembered it’s designed to look good on TikTok then thought about the caption about the real Madame X that quoted a contemporary saying that her makeup looked grotesque in full light but was designed to make her look beautiful in the candlelight of evening parties.

It is a huge pet peeve of mine in like any bar where a drink costs more than $10 if you don’t, like, give me a glass of water and offer me a menu. This isn’t a dive bar I’m gonna pay you $19 for a margarita offer me basic hospitality. You think you are dignifying yourself by acting like you’re too good for this but in fact you are degrading your profession by not embracing it. I s2g if this post breaks containment and someone tries to misread this as me being an entitled white lady I will do something illegal.

Predictably the instagram reel commentary on getting familiar with menstrual cycle phases has quickly pivoted to a soft misogyny. Guys, it’s not more feminist to make “is it that time of the month?” jokes just because you are more accurate about which time of the month a woman is irritable.

There is truly nothing like the YEARNING to be home after a long weekend, you’ve been with friends and you love them but you’ve been in the car for hours and you haven’t had a leafy green vegetable in three days and if you have to repeat yourself over the radio one more time you’re going to scream and hark! the city skyline appears on the horizon but are you there yet? No, you fool, you must first navigate the rocky shoals of New Jersey exchanges, find yourself somehow on the surface streets of Hoboken (?!?) stopped at every red light, then finally in the Holland Tunnel and being home is so close you can almost taste it and yet SO far please I just want to be in my house alone and drinking a mineral water PLEASE and then finally, two hours after the initial ETA, you shut the door behind you and sink with relief into the stuffy air of your own living room where no one can see or talk to you.

I’m on such a streak of good dates that I’m concerned.

Packing for a trip with three guy friends and I know for an absolute fact there will be at least one location or activity I lack the right apparel or equipment for.

That joke going around about how New York right now is the "I'm just partying every weekend" meme with the Knicks and the World Cup and the politics but literally it was Game 5 night then my birthday, and then a Friday night out, and then a birthday dinner, and then a favorite coworker in town and then a dinner party and then one of my oldest friends randomly in town on Friday and then another friend is in town next week and then it's 4th of July weekend and then we're seeing Paul Simon and then it's the 5k on the Beach and anyways I realized today that since I opened more windows my neighbors can probably hear me saying, "I CAN HAVE IT ALL" over and over as I rush back and forth between working and baking a cake for the party.