Daily Drip
Daily Drips highlight what I'm up to + into on any given day.
Just Read: This fantastic essay on strip clubs as the last bastion of the American dream by Rachel Rabbit White. RRW, once nicknamed the “hooker laureate of the dirtbag left,” is a writer, activist, and former sex worker whom I’ve long admired. In this piece, she shares fascinating research on the history of stripping (e.g., women traveling in US carnivals in the mid-1970s), while smoothly weaving in her own anecdotes and observations of club life. There is a skillful way some people write about erotic work that is at once sentimental and estranged—the kind of complex reverence only mastered through experience. RRW has it down.
Currently Reading: Styles of Radical Will by Susan Sontag and Falconer by John Cheever. I’m already betraying my new rule against reading two books at once! It’s just that Sontag is an intellectual lift for my dumb ass; I need a break from 20th century criticism of films, books, etc. that I’ve never even heard of. Falconer is amazing so far. Cheever reminds me a bit of Philip Roth. Another win for dead white men.
Listening to: “Rumble” by Skrillex, Fred Again…, Flowdan. How does one track garner five months’ desperate anticipation? When Fred Again… dropped it in his Boiler Room debut—a set even pundits regard as seminal—the internet exploded. Still, “Rumble” has been polarizing, as is anything with dubious hype. I personally love it, though. I’m calling it my song of the year in January. Flowdan is colossal. And Skrillex… Skrillex is back. And those of us who’ve been loyal for a decade plus don’t know how to act. Killas in the jungle, indeed.
Feeling: Hopeful! As I mentioned in my last piece, I’ve decided to get a therapist. Therapy’s been tricky for me over the years. From the couple’s counseling that went well until it didn’t back in 2019… to getting exactly nowhere in tackling grief with the woman I saw in 2021… to feeling completely cynical in the face of Instagram infographic therapy and the generally Bad Advice circulating the internet… all signs were pointing toward “figure it out yourself, Dia.” But I’ve reached a point where I’m not too proud to admit that the PMDD and suicidal ideation are pressing. Being emotionally manipulated by your period cycle is a hard thing to reckon with. And on top of grief, struggles with identity, etc. I decided not to do this on my own anymore.
Because traditional therapy frameworks haven’t been fruitful for me, I wanted to find someone less conventional. I surfed countless profiles on Psychology Today and eventually came across whom I proclaimed my therapy soulmate. His profile specifically said “not accepting new patients.” But I’m not one to back down when I suspect an energetic match. One sad girl inquiry later, I’m booked for Monday mornings. We met this week for our consultation and I was smug over my keen intuition. Long-haired, chill ass vibe. My age-ish. Also a writer. It’s a match! He’s an existential psychotherapist, which means his treatment plans center on schools of existential philosophy versus, say, your run-of-the-mill CBT. I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to hear someone approach mental health from this open, abstract place of seeking meaning over prescriptive terms and daunting “homework.” It makes me feel way less alone, like I might have a discernible place in the world when I so often feel otherwise.
Since sharing this experience over Instagram, I’ve had a lot of women ask what made me choose a male therapist. That’s fair. Society simmers with Man Hate, so to confide in the toxic other is ostensibly suspicious on my part. The thing is, though, I myself have a lot of masculine energy. And in the words of Cher, “men are the coolest!” I’ve had just as fulfilling, supportive friendships with the men in my life as the women, so this feels really natural and like a non-consideration. If you’re searching for a therapist and hung up on the gender thing, I suggest challenging your preconceived notions and grabbing a consultation. Bonus points if they, too, are a bit offbeat.
Loving: Glossy pink makeup looks à la this
Just Discovered: You can make *perfectly jammy* soft-boiled eggs in the AIR FRYER. Yes, I’ve succumbed to air fryer supremacy. Yes, it makes me feel like a Maxxinista life hack mommy blogger. And for reasons unknown, I opened my eyes this morning and Googled, “can I make soft-boiled eggs in an air fryer?” 270 degrees for 12ish minutes. Bowl of ice water for 5-8ish. Voila: the easiest, most gorgeous source of morning protein. Can’t wait to make some bomb ramen next.
Just Cooked: It’s no secret that I worship at the altar of Monique Volz, aka Ambitious Kitchen. When I’m not embracing my Mediterranean roots in the kitchen, her recipes are easy, colorful, balanced, and creative enough to make a Tuesday night feel special. These sweet & spicy sesame chicken meatball bowls were perfect.
Thinking: About New Year’s reflections and resolutions. I think most people expect me, a New Year’s lover and habitual cornball, to come on here with some big life lessons or goals. Maybe it’s that I rang the new year in with food poisoning promptly after frying my brain at a music festival (may share more on that soon if it doesn’t feel too far past/irrelevant), but I got nothin. The 2022 well has run dry. It was a year of “I am untouchable” highs and “this might kill me” lows. And going into 2023, all I can say is I plan to have more fun and eat more vegetables. To trick yourself out of a preoccupation with death, you must smother your pain with vibrance, vibrance, vibrance. A perfectly cooked piece of fucking broccoli. A low dose of psilocybin and the ensuing laughter. Life forces are simple and abundant and at your local grocery store and in your lover’s eyes. But if you wanna like, lose 10 pounds or limit your screen time in the new year, that works, too.
Excited for: Though it *feels* like I just got these transformative little curtain bangs, your girl is already back in the salon on Friday. I actually scheduled this appointment at the end of my last appointment which feels like a mature thing that people who get regular haircuts do. Anyway, I’m thinking about going a little more fringe! I came to love wearing my bangs to the front, so perhaps something like this?
Until next time. <3
Oh, and don’t forget to like, share, upgrade from free to paid, call your mother, spite your haters, etc.
Love when a therapist and client match works out. Good luck on your journey.