Daily Drip

enter my backyard where I offer you a selection of cool pink blushes

Good morning <3

my yard, 6/6/25

The smell of sweat has supreme carnal power over the human psyche. I stepped into the 7 AM humidity today and had a similar emotional response, like I was smelling the earth’s sweat and it was sticky and vegetal and healing. A sext from late spring.

I’m almost done with Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights, but I’m still thinking about this passage from the very beginning:

“A cup of coffee from a well-shaped cup. A fly, its wings hauling all the light in the room, landing on the porcelain handle as if to say, ‘Notice the precise flare of this handle, as though designed for the romance between the thumb and the index finger that holding a cup can be.’”

I love mundane nonfiction that flirts with sentimentality, but remains sharp and original enough to transcend its negative connotations. Platonic erotica, I might call it. A seductive sense of everyday life. Judging by the feeling I got in my yard this morning, Gay’s words are leaving a welcome impression.

I’m on my second cup of coffee. I almost never need a second cup of coffee. But I always take it because the pleasure is worth the anxiety. (You may be hooking up with someone who reinforces this notion.) I recently found myself saying I “haven’t been making the best choices,” that second cup being one of them. I don’t really like that language, though. It lacks personal agency because who defines “the best,” anyway? So I am now saying I haven’t been making my favorite choices. Try it on for size.

Last week I wrote about Tyrese Haliburton. He hit a clutch shot to win game one of the NBA finals last night. 👁️ god tier manifestations occur on Broke But Moisturized! Get on my good side! It’s been harder than ever to write with a seven-week-old velcro baby who doesn’t nap. Miss girl has been consistently sleeping through the night for weeks, though, so I’ll take it. Motherhood is awesome. That’s all I’ll say on the topic today.

Here’s what I’m up to and into this week…

• The song I have on loop is “PUSH 2 START” by Tyla. Is it just me or is there so much good pop music right now? Love Tate McRae. Love Addison Rae (about to blast her debut album that dropped today). LOVE Tyla. Not only is Tyla bringing something fresh to pop with her South African amapiano sound, she is also the hottest person alive and low key a great shitposter.

• BAWITDABACORE: Channel 5’s coverage of Florida Swampfest reminded me that I love dirty, nasty American anarchy. Watching this the other day, my husband saw me cheesing and said, “you love this shit.” And I was like, yeah I do, don’t I???? I started rattling off all the redneck phenomena I’ve researched or participated in throughout my life and found this very Kid Rockian throughline that I’m calling bawitdabacore. The kinds of gatherings you leave and get a tetanus shot. Aesthetics of extreme sports and fake tits. The full political spectrum on inconceivably harmonious display. I’m going to write about this and you can’t stop me.

• I’m documenting my postpartum fitness journey on Strava. Against the advice of every mom on Reddit, I went for a run the day my OB cleared me for activity six weeks post-c-section. Just a slow mile to grease the wheels. I’ve run most days since and I’m feeling good. It occurred to me that I’d love a full record of everything I do to get my body back, quick stroller walks and all. I’m including my weight throughout the process so don’t follow along if that sort of thing trips you out. I’m not so tied to a number on the scale, but it’s more for curiosity’s sake. All in all, I just want to fit in my clothes and run fast again.

• I’m only on Facebook for Marketplace… and the PHILAQUEENS group. Philly is the undisputed freak show of US cities. This private, 65,000-member Facebook group for girls and gays of the greater Philadelphia region is home to some of the best content on the internet. Everything from shampoo recommendations to “anyone else have their car stolen this week?” to girls who will throw hands over what constitutes south Philly, there’s something for everyone with a corresponding unhinged comment section. There’s a difference between people who are Very Online (performed) and people who are Very On Facebook (hilarious without trying). I’m always refining my digital safe zones, i.e., places I can hang out that guarantee a good time. PHILAQUEENS is full of people who will beat your ass but the raw psychosis has the revitalizing quality of a rave. Admins, if you’re reading this, please never boot me.

  

  the “PLS” makes it for me

• Love is a MEME and the proof is in my friend group. One of my girlfriends asked the guy she’s seeing for some clarity on where they stand, and his exact words were “lock the fuck in!!” I’m obsessed. I love it. If I was dating, I’d steal it. It is so unserious and contemporary yet gets the message across. Less charmingly, another friend got broken up with by a con artist (who fooled us all, might I add) via CHATGPT-WRITTEN TEXT. If you end an established, months-long relationship via text, you deserve public humiliation. If you use AI to write the message? Guillotine in the town square. Off with his pussy ass head.

• No one told me how awesome the Kindle is. Listen, I love a physical book as much as the next writer. Used bookstores are my favorite places on earth. But this thing is feather light, and having unlimited access to whatever I wanna read? Say less. Also mine is p i n k <3333

• As for recent reads, I need to talk about the JT LeRoy universe. If you’re unfamiliar with the story, let me give you a quick rundown. In the late 90s and early 2000s, an abused queer West Virginian sex worker known as JT LeRoy rose to literary prominence for his dark, semi-autobiographical novels. In 2005, it was revealed that the whole LeRoy persona was a hoax created by writer Laura Albert, a middle-aged woman from Brooklyn, and her sister-in-law Savannah Knoop, who posed as LeRoy in a blonde wig and sunglasses for media appearances, rubbing elbows with celebrities like Courtney Love and Winona Ryder, cementing his place among the greats. It’s obvious, you know, why we stan scammers like Anna Delvey whose false personae center extreme wealth; we hate the rich and love when people beat them at their own game. Cosplaying poverty for personal gain, though, is generally not fucking ok. So tell me why I find myself making an exception for Albert’s elaborate ruse? Maybe I’m just sympathetic to her personal history of abuse, struggles with gender, and mental illness (she was institutionalized multiple times as a kid). Or impressed by her audacity. Or more forgiving toward works of fiction. Or I just love when chaos penetrates stuffy institutions, like the publishing industry. I DON’T KNOW AND I’M SORRY. For anyone who’s read, though, I liked Sarah way more than The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things.

• My current beauty hyperfixation is going blonde. I was blonde in 2015 and it was bad. I remember going to my podunk salon in Danville, PA and showing an old photo of Denise Richards. I wasn’t on social media as heavily then, so I didn’t know the vast world of inspo pics I could have tapped. What would have cost $500 in Philadelphia cost me $70 and God bless Marie, she nailed the color, I just had no real style back then. Never even considered the maintenance that goes into keeping blonde hair blonde. Then I was sort of blonde again in 2023 and it was good. A five-hour balayage session with my Philly stylist, Keri McBride at House of Clarity. Now I have two months left of maternity leave and aesthetic ennui, so why not roll the dice? I ordered a disgusting platinum wig from Poshmark to see just how blonde we can take it this time. I also put a few pics through some photo editors and voila, blonde me! DON’T let me know how you like it. I don’t need any external influence here.

  

  technology is amazing

• Oh, and blush. I was staunchly anti-blush for a long time. I thought it looked bad on me. Turns out, I just didn’t know how to apply it in a way that flattered my face shape. Now I can’t stop buying it. Again, compulsive responses to the aesthetic ennui of not leaving your house much for two months. Blush is one of those products that livens you up quickly and effectively. It makes me think about the psychological impact of being tethered to a newborn, learning low-effort beauty hacks to look more alive—blushing being a physiological response you don’t get much in social isolation. Here are the ones I’m loving:

  • Merit Flush Balm Cream Blush in “Beverly Hills.” The shade is a nice, wearable peach that you can apply like, anywhere. Stick application is goated, IMO. Just a really solid product all around.

  • Fenty Cheeks Out Freestyle Cream Blush in “Summertime Wine.” I’ve actually had this for years (literally never used it til now) and it feels very slept on? Or am I just not aware of its popularity? This is a shimmery berry shade that strikes me as universally flattering. Good buildable formula, too.

  • Rare Beauty Soft Pinch Liquid Blush in “Happy.” I think everyone and their mother has this shit. Shade is described as a “dewy cool pink” and it’s perfect. They sell it in a mini which is truly all you need considering a dot the size of a pen tip could coat an entire wall.

  • NYX Buttermelt Blush in “Getting Butta.” I could not despise them more for putting “butta” in every shade name. It makes it impossible to remember which is which! This is an absurdly pigmented powder blush that will make you look crazy if you aren’t careful. But damn, is it ever pretty. “Getting Butta” is described as a cool pink, but I’d say it’s neutral. This is what you wear when you want that total doll look.

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