Hello S.O.M.E.bodies!
Howâs everyone doing out there? I guess we have a verdict on ye olde presidente. Iâm job hunting, so I will withhold my searing political opiniĂłns from this public forum. Thatâs not what youâre here for anyway ;-) so letâs get on with it.
This weekâs contributor is my LA bestie Anna Dorn. I met Anna on Memorial Day 2017 at a little grill-out thing with mutual friends. She was wearing the modern classic âLike Realizing Stuffâ tee from Kylie Jennerâs web shop. We hit it off immediately and were fast friends. Anna introduced me to so much music, reading, ideas, people, I canât even tell you. The most important friend I made in LA by far. A soul mate! We even did a podcast for awhile last fall before the holidays hit and then covid. Itâs called Manic Episode and you can find it on Apple, Spotify, Soundcloud, etc. Okay enough gushing about my friend who clearly I-miss-so-much and on with her recs.
PoetryÂ
I used to think of poetry as the distinct oeuvre of little bitches. I hated it and found it embarrassing. Then I remembered I am an embarrassing little bitch myself.Â
I got into it after watching Dasha Nekrasova in Softness of Bodies. Dasha told me over DM that the movie âisnât very good.â Itâs about a Cluster B personality disordered poet living in Berlin. She writes this poem that begins, and yes I am reciting this from memoryâ
I am so sexy and fun and fucking doomed
Iâm afraid of myself to be honest
Iâm scary and delicate
And I donât want to die at this party
I couldnât stop thinking about it. Itâs silly and stupid but also kind of genius, which is Dashaâs unique breed of genius, and a breed of genius I respect as a vapid blonde myself. Someone posted Dashaâs actual poetry collection on Reddit (since deleted) but I read the whole thing and was like⊠this is great and I can probably do it better.Â
Around that time I also reread this poetry book Bora Bora Bora by Daniel Feinberg that I bought at the LA book fair in 2015 because it is GOLD. Like a gold mirror cover. And the poems are cool and fun, with lines like âThere is dignity emerging from the gymâ and âmid-career Drake on the satellite radioâ and âa sculpture of empathy as a political statement.â Itâs a cute mix of accessible and obfuscating, affectless, cheeky, faux-intellectual⊠my shit.Â
I started writing poetry in spring. Itâs fun obsessing over words at the micro-level, because I normally write novels and that is just word vomit. Iâm also always vomiting onto iMessage 24/7 (apologies to my friends). I obsess about words on Twitter, but poetry is more elevated, or it pretends to be. I guess theyâre both obnoxious in different ways.Â
Being the only person who still watches Keeping Up With the Kardashians
Speaking of poetry!!Â
I donât know why no one else is watching this show. This season is incredible. It begins with Covid lurking the backdrop, but half of them still go to Yeezyâs fashion show in Paris. Scott thinks he has Covid but it turns out to be long term drug abuse. They go to Palm Springs for a family trip and bring tons of hand sanitizer. Kylie does weirdly flirty tequila shots with Krisâs boyfriend Corey and Kendall storms in and rages out at Kylie for stealing her outfit. Things escalate and Kylie stabs Kendall in the neck with her stiletto in the back of an Escalade.
Then the governor of California declares a state of emergency and the crew shuts down, so the cast starts filming on their iPhones. Khloe gets Covid and she films herself having it, just being sick in bed and coughing, for her entire 14-day quarantine. Feels historic. Corey expresses concern about civil unrest.Â
Kylie gives some truly deranged words of encouragement to her iPhone camera. She says she is fine staying at home because she always stays at home, especially during her pregnancy. She says âI never got boredâ because âI made every day fun.â Then she says, âwhether itâs taking a bath, doing a face mask, reading a book*, watching your favorite show, there are things we can do to help each other through this.â Then she gives an awkward thumbs up to the camera and says âwe got this.âÂ
What is she even saying? Big poetry!
*What is Kylie reading??
German YouTube Workouts
At the beginning of the pandem I was very skeptical of YouTube workouts. Or more just skeptical of my ability to do them. Shame is a major motivator for me in a workout class. The reason I donât stop is because I am trapped in a room with other peopleâwitnessesâand Iâm paying money to be there. But in my own home, I typically just stop after five minutes.Â
Then my friend introduced me to Pamela Reif. She looks like a Bratz Doll and is completely dead behind the eyes and I love her. She doesnât look like a human at all. She doesnât talk in the workouts which is great becauseâand forgive me if this sounds misogynistic or classistâI really cannot stand the voices of exercise instructors. She has flowing mermaid hair and very cute Puma outfits and her videos are mostly under 15 minutes which makes them doable.Â
My friend made me do the legs and arms and booty workouts, which frankly I can only do with her in the room because, you know, the power of shame. But then I realized Pam has dance videos. Dance is one of the few forms of exercise I actually enjoy because there is an expressive element. Pam has terrible rhythm so I feel superior to her when I do them. I turn down the volume and put on my own music. Sheâs dancing to Cher and Iâm blasting Migos.Â
Kelly Lee Owensâ Inner SongÂ
Online Iâm always talking about Lana and Grimes and Rihanna. But most of the day Iâm just typing or wandering around a wooded area listening to ambient music. Kelly Lee Owens is one of my favorite artists to zone out to. Her music sounds like the rippling surface of a lake or light dancing on a wall.Â
Inner Song dropped in late August and Iâve been listening to it on repeat. Pitchfork wrote that the album, which heavily features looping synths, seeks âsomething spiritual in the act of repetition.â That speaks to me as a naturally obsessive person who does roughly the same thing every day.Â
Itâs real introvert music. My favorite song is âNight,â on which Kelly just repeats in a loop:Â
Itâfeels so good to be alone
It feels so good to be alone
It feels so good to be alone
It feels so good to be alone
It feels so good to be alone
It feels so good to be alone
It feels so good to be alone
It feels so good to be alone
Then:Â
With you
With you
With you
With you
With you
With you
Yeah, with you
Quelle romance !
Talking on the phone (NOT FACETIME)
Iâve been dating a Gen Xer who introduced me to the lost art of talking on the phone.Â
Historically, meaning the past six months, Iâve been a real FaceTime bitch. I enjoy adjusting the light in my apartment and picking an outfit and positioning my body in a way that makes it appear that I have cleavage. You know, movie magic.Â
But on FaceTime Iâm mostly looking at myself. Self-conscious and not listening.Â
Talking on the phone is more intimate. There is a sort of freedom that comes with being heard but not seen. Itâs like texting, but more erotic, and without the tonal confusions.Â
And the voice is the star. Iâm a big fan of voices. I think itâs the most underrated measure of sexual attractiveness. A hot voice can make an otherwise unremarkable person very sexy, or a gen priv person sexless.Â
The phone is a good place for confessions and secrets. Sweet nothings. Flirting! I think of that scene in Carol where Therese whispers erotically into the landline: âI want to ask you things. But Iâm not sure you want that.â And Carol responds: âAsk me. Things. Please.âÂ
Daylight Savings
Everyone always complains about it getting dark earlier, and how it triggers their seasonal affective disorder. I used to be one of those people. Donât get me wrong: Iâm still SAD. But Iâve learned to lean in.Â
There is no reason for it to stay light out until 8pm. Over the summer I often am just pacing around my apartment, waiting for it to get dark. Life is more peaceful when it's dark. There is less pressure to perform. When itâs dark out itâs acceptable to put on a nightgown and drink alcohol and curl up and watch movies. To be fair I do all these things when itâs light out, but I donât love myself for it.Â
So yes, I am more depressed. But depressives enjoy being depressed. There is a beauty and glamor in it. My brain has two speeds: (1) anxious/manic; and (2) malaise/depression. The anxiety and mania can be exciting and productive but theyâre also exhausting.Â
Sometimes a bitch gotta hibernate.Â
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As always, please share the newsletter with anyone you think may enjoy. Until next week!