I didn’t like last week’s newsletter. I actually don’t like most of the things I write a week later. It’s okay! The purpose of this exercise was not to write the next great American novel, but rather to encourage myself to write every week, turning something in even when it wasn’t my best. For the past 8 weeks, I’ve done that. I’ve tried my best even when I didn’t think the words I had written would ever express my feelings or true thoughts. But mostly, I’ve half assed and thrown links together on a Sunday afternoon. Whoops! That’s on me. So, I’d like to try a little bit harder.
Except instead of trying harder I decided to make my birthday map (Leo moon). My perfect walking route, with all the things I love along the way: horny luxury grocery stores, art museums created by Big Pharma families, Asian beauty products, matcha ice cream, designer cocktails, and izakayas. A literal journey through the metaphysical word of Abby.
Last year, I was pissed none of my friends were in DC to celebrate because they were “saving democracy” and determined to have the saddest birthday in existence to spite them. I moped around my apartment, convinced everyone had forgotten about me, and begrudgingly decided to leave the house. Imagine my surprise when I walked downstairs to find a MilkBar package from some of the people I love the most in this world. They hadn’t forgotten about me! No, my friends (or Elie) had wrangled together a cake from my favorite bakery in the world. I felt loved.
So, I went to Tatte, ordered the prosciutto and parm, wandered through an art gallery, and walked along the monuments. I called my mom and complained about tourists huffing the tourists and their germs. I sat down and felt the humid air turn crisp when the breeze blew. With every stop, a weight lifted off my shoulders. I felt alive in a way I hadn’t in a long time.
But, in typical me fashion, it’s something I’d forgotten until Andrew sent me Brendan Taylor’s newsletter. He hits the nail on the head a phenomenon so many recent novels (Jenny Ofill’s Weather is mentioned) and essays are products of. I enjoyed many of the novels he lists, but as a general rule, I’m not a fan of the turn towards minimalist writing as a sign of ~enlightenment~. Eat your heart out, Sally Rooney.
Novels that rely on inner thoughts, pointedly above the physical, deny us a chance to see the world a person creates for themselves and, I believe, a chance to really know a person. Isn’t that why we read in the first place? We’re curious, sometimes downright nosy, little fuckers. In an ironic twist, giving a glimpse into the inner mind isn’t as satisfying as describing, in great hedonistic detail, the nicknacks one decides to surround themselves with.
Of course, I don’t think it’s all about material goods. I like my birthday because I like who I am on my birthday— someone who stops and smells the roses. All you can do is enjoy the little things. That starts by surrounding yourself with things you love. People, things, books, animals, cashmere sweaters, and Thai food. It’s all important. We are all the little pieces around us, for better or worse. To pretend otherwise is to miss out on life’s little joys.
Ok, now for the clicky clicky.
I found the perfect white tennis skirt but its MY white tennis skirt so I’m not linking it here. Read: text me if you want it.
the Solar Power review that hits the nail on the head. I missed Lorde and I like the album, but vibes are off. Fallen Fruit is my favorite but Leader of a New Regime might be the final song in a Higher/Liability/?? power trio. We shall see!
Is It Time to Break Up Big Ag? yeah baby.
I want the gentrified Uncrustables :/
Charlotte Palermino uses this so I want it. Also Deliverance is getting restocked!
Smart Sweets is doing healthier candy! Definitely not Sour Patch kids but hits the spot late at night for minimal calories. Might also be good soaked in alcohol. Heard about on Snaxshot, which I’m still obsessed with.
Ice cream is going in the wrong direction. My personal hopes? Kulfi goes mainstream (Mt. Desert Island in DC is to die for when in season) and we develop almond milk ice cream that doesn’t make me nauseous. Something about almond and carrageenan…. gag.
I’m adding a feedback form here, if you’d like to leave any. Playing us out this week… Wendy Cope.