SWEETHEARTS, I AM LIKE A PIG IN SHIT WITH ALL THIS EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA TALK ON MY FEED. i’ve never been happier in my life. finally, an apocalyptic event i am fully prepared for. have i gotten the parasite? absolutely not and i won’t, because i try to never eat food that hasn’t been cooked. take a steaming shit on my green beans, it doesn’t matter because i’m dumping them out of a heat-sterilized can. microwave my banana, who gives a fuck, it only takes getting e.coli (shout out to 2021 me) one time to know you don’t ever want to ever get that shit again. godspeed to your butts and i hope that dude who told me my work is “juvenile” because i spend too much time writing about “bowel movements” is currently shitting himself to death.
my current favorite album that i’ve been wearing OUT is face the feeling by a very young person i just heard of named jobi riccio. i got put on from grace spelman’s excellent substack the grace spelman music project, a “twice-weekly newsletter dedicated to providing readers with good, interesting music recommendations and playlists free from algorithmic AI slop” that is well worth the five bucks you gotta pay to gain access to her many handcrafted playlists. i like a lot of songs, but i’m not learned about music in an intelligent, curatorial way; i’m literally never going to say anything about chord progressions or time changes, which is hilarious because i play the piano! i should know more about this stuff!! here’s some songs i’m obsessed with this week that i posted on instagram because i don’t have the capacity to write a music blog:
with our love talking heads (this entire album rips)
default django django (turn it up, treat it like a dance song, shake your rump)
unknown guy lee young ji (korean rap girlies exist?)
annoy you darryl saves lives (emo is not dead!)
love like this faith evans (come on now, this is a classic)
earth intruders bjork / mark stent (this fucking bangs, can she please get back to making bops like this)
waiting underground patti smith (HARD)
dressed in metal baby rose (just trust me)
i’m thinking about getting into: gold chains. exfoliation. yemeni coffee. personal fans. using glass cleaner on the insides of my car windows. scalp massages. wide-brimmed sun hats. bully romances. inositol. watching baseball. scratching mosquito bites to the point of permanent scarring. figuring out a new way to host the website i don’t use because squarespace is doubling their prices. deodorant wipes. unsweetened ice tea. cardamom. practicing the piano. raincoats.
big news for us senior citizens: mos def/yasiin bey is re-releasing the ecstatic!! i preordered a CD as soon as my girl marquita told me it was available, because i am deeply nostalgic, BUT: not nostalgic enough to have a working turntable or cassette player. the old subaru has a CD player though, god bless. i cannot wait to pull up to the co-op bumping the embassy so loud (when the beat comes in??? HEAT) it makes the windows rattle in their frames.
did i talk about widow’s bay already? if not: banger. we also watched every episode of imperfect women, which is perfectly brainrotting. the final season of the bear was excellent, although i would have loved a sex scene between ayo and will poulter because i am a deviant. bird and i finally finished the summer i turned pretty and honestly? isabel should’ve fucked and run off with conrad’s hot fucking dad. we started running point (late!) and it’s so fucking funny and good, kate hudson really is that girl. are we talking enough about how funny she is? also a few episodes deep into black rabbit which i am obsessed with, jude law and jason bateman are like a dream come true to my eyeballs. this is not a netflix newsletter, but: i watched a documentary called untold: chess mates (featuring anal beads) and it was so good. if you are also into sports docs as much as i am a new season of quarterback just dropped. bird and i also watched so many episodes of worst roommate ever and worst neighbor ever and worst ex ever and, brother, bring back the fucking guillotine. i never want to meet any new people ever again.
i went to detroit for a lil staycation at these “urban rooftop cabins” last week and, i know i know: what in the hell was i doing inside something called that? not breathing outside air, i’ll tell you what. i don’t ever need to go anywhere or see anything when i’m out of town. i like to drive around and look at stuff and indulge the “man, what if i lived here?!?!!” fantasy for a while, and then i like to go to my lovely hotel and lie down in darkened silence until it’s time to go home. kirsten and i were on this lil trip together (uh oh!!) and you can talk to her if you want to know what was on exhibit at the DIA and MOCAD and get a breakdown of all the things she saw while bopping around cass corridor. we’re in detroit all the time; i didn’t need to see shit!
except i have to go to all the bookstores, every time i’m there, because come on. we went to 27th letter books and this is a real thing that happened: we parked the subaru and before i could even unclip my seatbelt a van stuffed with “cool dads” my age (you know the dudes i’m talking about) parked next to us and seventeen bald guys wearing, like, dead milkmen* t-shirts exploded out of it clown car-style and tumbled en masse into the bookstore ahead of us. i’m not hating, i’m a fucking gen x asshole too, but everywhere i turned there was a guy blocking my view of a bookshelf while yelling across the room to an identical guy about the rare mogwai^ vinyl he found in one of the crates, so i didn’t get anything this trip because it was like a geriatric mosh pit on a wednesday afternoon and i’m not trying to catch an elbow to the head.
*fugazi / sebadoh / dead can dance / melvins, you get it!
^jesus lizard / boards of canada / neutral milk hotel / modest mouse, you get it!!!!!!!
(here’s irrefutable proof i am also an asshole dad who is still obsessed with music from 1997. i was listening to this moody shit in the car the other day and the kids were like “bitch turn this bullshit off and put on some tyler.” we hate most in others what we see in ourselves, etc)
my lady and i went to pages bookshop and at the time we were the only people in there and you know what? if i’m the only person in the kind of tiny, delightful store that is manned by a single pleasant person who is kinda surprised to see people coming through the door, i simply have no choice other than to feel personally responsible for all of their sales that day. i could buy one book at barnes and noble, but here? at a place where this doe-eyed young man is excitedly gushing to me, the only bitch in the store, about a gay novel by his gay friend from (gay) detroit? i’m stocking the hell up! here’s what i copped:
can’t get enough kennedy ryan (black romance)
canon paige lewis (lit fic, humor)
boys come first aaron foley (the aforementioned gay detroit book, romance)
let’s not do that again grant ginder (fiction, humor)
shred sisters betsy lerner (lit fic)
the children melissa albert (fantasy? horror-ish?)
then i of course had to go see my sweeties at sidetrack books in royal oak, because they are the reason i now read books about giant spiders fucking women with their huge hairy legs. they are the reason i am now well-versed in fanfic. i for real just let courtney tell me what to buy and i bought it, because i would trust everyone in there with my life. truly the best store with the best booksellers with the best recs. i don’t ever need a new book for as long as i live but here’s what i came home with, despite that:
mile high liz tomforde (contemporary romance)
tropesick lauren okie (contemporary romance)
the fake divination offense sara raasch (wizard romance)
games, a love story anna maria volkova (coming of age)
just for the season rachel griffiths (regency romance)
score kennedy ryan (romance)
the mysterious affair of judith potts robert thorogood (cozy crime)
if you are ever wondering “what the FUCK does this bitch do with all these FUCKING BOOKS” i’ll tell you: i read them in the night because i don’t sleep, then i let them pile up in my office (on my desk, on this giant steel shelving unit, on a cozy armchair i can’t sit in because it’s overstuffed with books, on top of the printer that only intermittently works), and once i’ve got enough to make it worth the back pain and hassle i pack dozens and dozens of the ones i can bear to part with up in boxes and donate them to kalamazoo valley community college, where they maintain a small but mighty irby-funded library that students can take books from for free. i like to make people happy!!
a few places we ate food
ima (japanese food, cooked by black people) i’ve been to ima izakaya a dozen times because we used to stay in this little cutie hotel in corktown every time we visited and it was basically down the street, but this time we went to the one in midtown near wayne state and it’s just as adorable as the other location. everything on the menu bangs but i especially love the tokyo street fries (crispy garlic, sesame, nori, scallion, sambal ketchup) and the karaage chicken bowl (pickles, nori, scallion, furikake mayo, lemons, chili threads slaw) which are both so good that i willingly expose my humiliating lack of chopstick dexterity to publicly eat them.
leila (lebanese food) once a million years ago i posted I LOVE BEIRUT as my facebook status and one of my friends commented “you don’t even have a passport” and i was like “you’re right, idiot, i meant the band.” i’m trying to big up my harmonized-moaning faves, the makers of the most beautiful music to ever gently caress my eardrums, songs so freaking gorgeous they literally make me sickkkkk, and here comes some stupid ass BITCH.
i made what i consider a zero! skips! mixtape of beirut beauties, because more music should have french horns and harmonic moaning in it, that is perfect for
1 being stoned and lying down with your eyes closed and a fan blowing on you
2 contemplative weeping and/or silent suffering under the crushing weight of existence
3 working on the outline for a novel you want to write
it’s on tidal because i got off spotify when everyone on instagram told me i would go to jail for giving them money, and i can see that no one clicks on and/or listens to the tidal playlists i put together but you can and should just import these songs into your purveyor of choice (in the exact order i put them in, so it still feels like i made it for you) and go to heaven!!
anyway, we just ordered snacks because we had a 5pm reservation (OLD): the labneh (i’ve been hooked on labneh ever since we first made AR’s labneh with sizzled scallions dip years ago), hummus, muhammara (ground walnut and red pepper dip, good as hell), chicken wings with za’atar and lemon, lahmahjeen (meat pie), and the most incredible thing: grilled halloumi served over watermelon, mint, and jalapeños. outrageous. could i attempt this dish at home? sure. but will i? never.
she wolf (fancy italian food) i’ve been to she wolf many times; it’s really gorgeous inside, the food kicks ass, and yes you have to refinance your home to afford a meal there but it is worth it. they have this banger cocktail called “aperol these years” and once you get over the humiliation of having to say those words to another human being’s actual face, you will drink seven of them. our waitress catherine was so cute and so funny and let me tell you what happened to me: we had this great dinner and vibed with her all night, and after i gave her my visa to take care of the check she came back and said, “i recognized your name on the card! i’ve read your books!” imagine the look i gave my lady. straight up smug, shit-eating, drag me in front of a firing squad self-satisfaction. i’m gonna ride this high until i’m dead. finally, someone familiar with my fucking work!!!!!!!!!!!!!
yesterday we saw the invite and i freaking loved it. it’s funny, everyone in it is good at acting, good god ed norton, great god penelope cruz, i really did laugh so much, idc if people are still mad at olivia wilde she rules, plus the apartment was cool and i love looking at a movie that’s just, like, beautiful shots of hands arranging shit on a charcuterie board. remember that bradley cooper movie burnt that everybody but me thought was a huge piece of shit? i don’t need plot, i am satisfied to spend 90 minutes watching people in kitchen clogs mince shallots and shout at each other. the invite had enough of that to make me happy and also sex and seth rogen being the best!
my kingdom for a comfortable and supportive goddamn shoe, and i might’ve just cracked the code. i bought these hoka gaviota 6 gym shoes after seeing someone mention them in an insane place, a comment in a snark thread about disneyland influencers, a topic of conversation i do not give one rancid shit about. we really gotta investigate this some other time, BUT: what in the fuck do i be looking at? that miserable online lady was right though, these are dope.
i watched off campus on the big TV in the basement instead of on my ipad in the bathroom and let me tell you something disgusting: i gotta stop watching these shows that make me think i can fuck a twenty-two year old.
the most pleasant surprise while watching toddlers fall in love with each other? two of the episodes were directed by my ace homie samantha bailey, and when i say “homie” i’m saying “we came up in the live lit struggle scene in chicago years and years ago, reading at free shows on saturday afternoons at the green mill, can you believe we both now know what the inside of the netflix offices look like?” sam has directed a lot of shit (including a marvel show!) but you should watch the web series she wrote, directed, and starred in about an out of work chicago artist navigating her twenties because sam really is a magical person whom more people should be in love with. it’s called you’re so talented and i promise you have five minutes to spare to watch at least one episode. you probably have twelve minutes for two.
the main dude in off campus is so beautiful but he could be my biological son, so i cannot look at him ever again. what’s going on here? i feel like when i was young all the heartthrobs looked like tommy lee fucking jones. now i can’t find a lead actor with a fucked up prostate to save my life. i semi-successfully weaned myself out of heated rivalry psychosis, i.e. i’m mostly over feeling insane because i reset my algorithm to keep those boys the hell off it. i was starting to feel a little crazy. it should be illegal to be sweaty and fun and exciting and handsome and literate where i can see you!
do i have to kill myself? can some horny senior citizens make out with each other in high definition?? let me go ahead and drag my ass to the odyssey, if for no other reason than to spend three hours in the dark watching matt damon be 55 years old.
this video is the funniest goddamn thing on the internet right now, love u bye!
