Quote of the Week: “I am crying because whatever my gifts, the pieces of good buried inside and under so much that I feel is bad, is wrong, is twisted, are less clear than the ability to hit a ball with a bat and break the scoreboard or do a triple pirouette in the air on ice. My gifts are for life itself, for an unfortunately astute understanding of all the cruelty and pain in the world. My gifts are unspecific. I am an artist manqué, someone full of crazy ideas and grandiloquent needs and even a little bit of happiness, but with no particular way to express it.... I am becoming a complete waste.”― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America. I haven’t actually read Prozac Nation yet, but I was reading an Elizabeth Wurtzel essay the other day and went down a hole of quotes and passages, and thought this was particularly poignant given the times.
Drinking: A decaf americano with cream. I’m trying to recognize when my PMS fills my body with chaotic energy that caffeine exacerbates. Yesterday I had caffeine and felt awful all day, so I’m trying to honor that.
Eating: A two-egg omelet with kale, mushrooms, arugula, cauli rice, and feta + za’atar, pink salt, and pepper. I’m on this obsessive greens kick that has me eating like, 100 cups of vegetables a day. I can’t even explain it. It doesn’t even feel like I’m in control. (Don’t worry. I’m eating brownies, too.)
Grateful for: My amazing friends, coast to coast. This morning I checked the mail to find a “just because” card and two Polaroids of Ariana and I. I legitimately cried happy tears. Be old school! Send your friends snail mail! It’s really fun to sit on the floor, play some good music, and write out cards to the people in your life. The Internet is rotting our brains and destroying our capacity for real relationships… don’t be another casualty, hun.
Currently Reading: My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh. WOWWWW this book is special, which comes as no surprise considering Moshfegh’s been named a contemporary great. Just a quick synopsis for anyone needing a fun read: the nameless narrator is a rich, beautiful, young Columbia grad, living in Manhattan off her dead parents’ inheritance. She sees a deranged psychiatrist for a slew of prescriptions in attempt to “sleep for a year.” It is icy and deadpan and bizarre and you need to read it. This is only my second book of the year, so I’m at a slow start to hitting my goal of three per month. Please follow the hashtag #bbmbooks on Instagram to keep up!
Feeling: Super anxious. I have a doctors appointment this morning to address some stomach issues I’ve had (and been trying to ignore or fix myself) since May. I’m hoping it’s nothing serious, but I’ll likely only end up with a gastro referral today anyway.
Working on: A piece about my love of miniskirts. I tweeted about this yesterday, which sparked the idea that it needs to be a full piece. Do you have a favorite article of clothing? If so, leave it in the comments.
Lately I've been loving an oversized, worn in button up. It might have something to do with being able to show off my line tattoo, and also the subtle sensualness of revealing a pointless little triangle bra- all while maintaining the silhouette of a trash bag.