"the words you tell yourself will mean more than anything i can tell you."
the princess twin wants me sooo bad. guy there, reese, we're best friends now, he shook my hand and even asked, "can you work nights and weekends?" so, yeah. everything's coming up milhouse. i feel so mean all the time, like maybe i'm in a rush or something. i'm in a rush to be myself, which maybe means trampling over everybody else. ethan and bailey know i'm bitchin'er in kitchener now—so tepid to check in. i'm gonna show ethan the spots. bailey's gonna start a family i guess. we'll never talk about it, because he thinks he can't. i don't really care. he was my situation, until he wasn't, and it was only on the terms of his convenience, never mine. that really hurts, and it's embarassing to talk about. cut off the guy from sniffies completely; screamin' porn kills love
really nice having a day out. stressed out by the cost of even the discounted bus pass, but i mean, whatever. i can go anywhere now, for real. henry really wants me to join her for a night in toronto, and i would like to be at the gay bar, i just don't think i wanna be a gay man right now. she seems jazzed about the access i give, and i think i'm changing my mind. we can still fujo out! i'm not ready to travel that far. ambulance just did a couple polite whoops. i like toonie tuesdays at revive, and karaoke, and older middle class women who seem intruiged by my whole thing. i can't afford it! i can't afford the big trip for the gay bar. i excuse the rest because i really like it, and i need something, and i'm just seeing what works. adrianne lenker, come to danforth music hall
little steps. incremental nudges, toward something. feeling this dread of grief, then looking back on just the last couple little word exchanges between emma & i, tearing up.
really good. it's hard to get things out when you're in a violent situation. it's really easy to get things out with aubrey. i probably don't need to transcribe our therapy, because i trust her, and most of what i'm doing is expressing complex emotions so i can work with them. she gets me to breathe, but she asks if it's okay for her to lead the meditation first. my life doesn't have to be an interesting story. it should be mine, though
hey joey,
it's your birthday tomorrow. you can let me know if you wanna stay home, okay? it's okay to cry about it; it's okay to cry about anything! i know you trust me to take care of the scary stuff, and you're scared we'll get hurt anyway. i'm scared too! i'm really happy to do these things, though, because they're for me and for you. you can sing whatever songs you like at karaoke—everyone's actually saying this!! anyway, you can keep being your awesome self. gotta shower and all that stuff, but we'll take it easy this week.
love,
judy
high school reunion in my story likes! of course i'd catch your guys' attention on a monday night, playing the most country bumpkin waterloo bar that there is. i'm not cynical, i say this with love for my people, and i also think it's incredibly funny. i even wore my flannel and my beige chinos, like i knew. chuck found my orange t-shirt pin in their car—i thought i'd lost it on the walk to the last open mic, in the snow, doubling back and briefly writing shitty poetry about the minor internal meltdown it caused me. i still made it to the open mic on time, but i was convinced i just couldn't be a pin person. i put the pin on my guitar strap before tonight's open mic, because of course i would. my little trumpet pin, from anna some years ago, is hanging monkey-style from my pick pouch. it's peeking out, or whatever that guy said. stu, bartender and angel, reiterates that my stage name is just "so good!" every week. and i believe him! people here are musicians as their job, but they don't know shit next to stu. he's always good for getting me a water, with a lime of course. he sets the whole vibe
finished my letter to emily so quickly—it's like i enter a flow state the moment i read her's. i'm really brushing against the limits of my ability to yap around a subject, i guess because i'm in that flow state as i write my responses/further thoughts. i notice that i open with questions, tracking with my responses per-paragraph until i kind of meander on a difficult topic in the middle, and then i have no space enough at the end, neither to make my song suggestion nor to explain the dried flora included in the envelope this week. but i trusted the process, and i put a little margin-note recommending dried roses by big thief—itself an explanation of the dried rose petals, of course—and i even called the song a folk lullaby? which is literally true. i never remember to be that anthropological/curious/non-judgemental with myself, though. it's easy with emily, because our friendship is one of constantly catching up. we're good at that, i think. i threw a show about mental health in healthcare her way, and she threw a book about a nonbinary monk my way. she made me paper plum blossoms for the new year, for new beginnings
henry's been clocking me for my glum all week, and i have stammered trying to explain it every time, because i don't want to say the truth which is that the more money i spend the closer i feel i am to an early death. it's not anything major; i only earnestly want to die when i can't be judy. this house is so honest about not having money, and yet we're never judgemental about spending what we have on psychics or weed delivery or tipping big out of working class survivor's guilt. anyway, the heaviness of these feelings today just washed over me and away, because i finally got approved to double my credit limit. i realized it'd been long enough since my last application to try again. i got tired of feeling so stressed and incapable of talking for hours after opening my banking app. i did it in the spur of the moment, like half an hour ago, and it was instantly approved because it's not like i'm applying to become a capital owner. you are literally morally obligated to lie to the bank. glad scotiabank finally divested from elbit systems, too bad they're still a fucking loanshark lmfao
stinky got me outta bed. so i can nap with him downstairs, of course!
need to play as you are for the house, letting them know it is the greatest love song ever written/performed. henry gave me a heads-up: girl code: they were shit-talking me, in the bathroom. i didn't mind, i love the feedback. i know that's my hinge match, but i also know the songs i pick are so sad. i said, "do you know dylan goes electric?" like it's a kind of dance move. i explain to henry the process of splitting, but maybe that wins me favour in the end. she's medicated, so i'm the one less fucked up who can keep things in order by the time we reach home. i swallow my own puke, like three times at least, thanking the uber driver so much just for enduring the tension. hand-holding squeezes to let henry know i'm staying strong. my next pack will be smoother cigs, into the altoids tin all the same. chuck gets their updates on their baby, knowing he's okay and we're taking care of the family even while on our night out. i could match for the license plate numbers, which is a feat in its own right. i ordered the fancy food: bagels, with savoury, but also apple. reminder for the morning: you cleaned up your big mess in the spare bathroom, even tried to close the door to spare henry the trigger. she said "i'm gonna go puke," and it was a goodnight like any other. you put the bagels in the fridge, knowing we'd want our saving grace in good condition by the morning scaries. hinge match reached out on instagram dms, as we are wont to do, you texting back the sniffies you've been yearning for, and you were so cordial to hinge-match and flirtatious enough to set the excitement for next week. i really, really didn't think it was supposed to be a date. i hope i can manage something better for me by next week. i hope they have someone else to look forward to, i don't know how else to be excited for friendship but to be excited as i am for life. stinky is cuddling with me tonight, we just decided as the incense finished its burn in my room. i'll check the smell again tomorrow. laundry again tomorrow. cuddles in bed with the door open means no nightmares. stinky makes sure
ya
aubrey tells me their practice is narrative work. mostly, you have to rewrite it in the end. there's telling the story, then some middle portion i didn't quite catch, then rewriting the story at the end. she reinforces how the power is taken back, to be given to me, that i can cancel at any moment's notice or just not show up—whatever it takes for me to get what i need out of sessions. these are hours, not a service i'm buying. she commends my pretending to have counselling to get out of hours of interrogation last year—that's a good one, clever, aubrey says. i tell the whole story, openly worried about being concise, then getting it out in probably under thirty minutes. the first thing that makes me break is bringing up montréal: this off-handed notion i had while struggling to stay afloat in waterloo, this brief respite i was bathed in like sunlight, and a still reminder of being saved by community. it's all in the past tense, i say something about being seen as a youngest child. i start to hitch on the family dynamics, where we are now seems so much worse, maybe did i make it this bad? i'm spiraling a bit, thinking that i'm on the same team as my siblings with the suburban life goals. i realize, in the moment, that i actually feel outcast with my mom and eldest sister. because of my dad, i am to be considered a radical, i am an outcast too, i am seeking community outside of his benevolence. i say how proud i was of my mom when she got a job, and that's what breaks me fully. i'm putting the pieces together in the moment, how much autonomy she was scraping off whatever she could find. stinky has been in my sweater this whole time, occasionally reaching out a paw, just stretching for his comfort. i always overheat, but i'm just glad this desert cat is finding warmth, i feel benevolent myself, i say i see my mom in me. aubrey asks about containment exercises next week, tests the waters, brings up the flood of emotions. i guess i've been crying and a mess, whatever. i say, it feels like i've been telling this to stinky, at least. she asks, would you like to try one today? we're over time, but she gets me to breathe again. she did that before, after i got to the part about interrogation, it was really good. we do it again, this time she's telling me about sunlight. it's there above me, whenever i need it. she says, after checking the booking for next week, do something just for yourself! i accidentally let slip that i was like a maid and i really didn't mind, it was so familiar; embarassing imagery for our community, i'm sorry; thank you for permitting me some self-care. it absorbs into the earth just the same. she says, this artistic approach might be something easier for me to visualize. i need to find somewhere for things to go, because they won't all just come out at once and leave me for good. i've been mentioning songs every week, this week we give our shouts out to samia. i never told aubrey about my sunbeams playlist. i guess i didn't need to
the living room is mostly there to nap somewhere safe from the nightmares. i'm not moving back to the woods.
trying to be nicer to myself about my inability to be concise. mostly, by saying next to nothin a lot. it's actually not a choice like that, but i don't have the words.
bouncing stinky on my knee. icarly in the living room is healing me. i haven't had the chance to do this little, or be so quiet, or feel so full from wendy's, in like fifteen years.
carly looks just like katy did when we'd watch it like this. i always liked sam. i'm much more like freddie than i'd like to advertise. GIBBAYYYY
watering the succulent henry gave me for galentine's, cuz it's raining. they say it doesn't matter if you over-water, it's just a matter of frequency. chuck has the same one, downstairs in a pseudo shrine to saint valentine, which they watered a few days ago much more methodically than i. they told me about how greenness of healthy leaves is an indicator of sunlight needs, using the pale spider plant as an example. they asked "sorry, am i mansplaining?" and i probably blushed. they have a degree in plants, so i think i'm doing okay, relatively speaking
everything starts as my fault in the morning. i whittle down the craziest solutions, then i find that i can mostly just feed myself or go for a walk if it's nice out. it's not nice out today. in fact, it's freezing rain. perfect weather for my sandalwood to burn. perfect weather for me not showering. it was so, so cold last year
i'm meeting my karaoke friend for karaoke on saturday. i'm dolling out my instagram dm replies to hours when i know they're not working; they work with pre-k kids. i know buses are cancelled, but i was never in pre-k, so i don't know what the deal is there. i'm just going to ask for the rats' names, but then i'm going to ask if i can share a picture of stinky, and i think i'm actually waiting for my own sake. they seem really kind, and most importantly i am able to look for friends with a semi-clarity on what that means for my safety. i keep finding the eldest children, or maybe they keep finding me
i don't like numbers. they haunt me, and i remember them too well. no dreams last night. woke up to sneeze. the rest is the usual. my resumes are purple now.
i haven't decided what i'm going to do today. lucky for me, chuck asks for help clearing out the stuff on the landing. henry wants the futon to go there, like a convertible guest room.
dreams were just nightmares; still nothing to write down. shrinking down to the size of an electron, gross biology diagrams, only a brief glimpse at something transcendent before my foggy orange streetlamp interlude. stinky on my lap just now. hiii! second dream: too disturbing to even type out on here. he's licking at his paw, climbing my leg like a bridge, doesn't want his bed, paws at my lap, i'm pulling the blanket over him. he's still licking his paw under there. i love him
hi natalie, from starbucks. did you know you used to be my assistant manager? i know you said you'll reach out for an interview if my answers show me to be a good fit. anyway, did you know my eloquent language is not ai? can that not be something i have to prove, would you pay for the sick days required for me to go blow up a local data centre? do you remember how earnest i was in my first interview, the one you did with me, way back when? i was in much worse circumstances then. am i worth employing, now that i'm no longer in danger? don't answer that, natalie. you seem kind
washed sheets are easier to keep tidy, for me. dreams almost felt like dreams, i almost remembered one. so fucking foggy. i might not even go to tonight's open mics. it's family day. i choose my label from my life experience, it's not the other way around, you assholes. the magnesium must be working.
pieces of dreams: i try to look tall for a grizzly bear, it has the high ground, and it's a grizzy bear, so it claws me to death; labourers break boulders for dad, he's impressed, i try to outrun a jaguar with the runt of the group, he dies and i'm bitten; i wave to doug ford, who's leaning on the porch onlooking our new pool
noticing all my dreams this past month have been me going in and out of sleep paralysis; no time for symbols, just panic at a profound feeling of disability. trying to remember to take my magnesium, i guess. interesting
hello again. clock app again. really precise, right now. so cognizant, in a way that is scary maybe. not to me! happy to be whole, mostly coping with the sad. little caesars pick-me-up. jesus christ, why do i say anything to anyone who's not living with me. i don't think i want to be known, except deeply intimately and in a way that can be mourned by my standards when i'm gone. gonna feed the cat when i get home, and i still have enough money for more rent. i'm ungrateful, gratefully so
checked my clock app just for the seconds; passing friend at revive threw roses over me, sad that i wouldn't be her competition in the beer-sponsored singing competition—i was just too late to sign up, is all; i did big guy by ice spice to end the night, though love takes miles felt like my real closer; a cigarette keeps me from the alcohol scaries, mostly because i have to drink something to keep down the stomach pain, not gonna check that out until it's a problem again; i'd die like norm macdonald: silently, if only to keep my own peace. i love what i've got now, and i don't feel particularly fit for this world. i'll look at you in my periphery for an hour just to hear about what program you're in, and what you're looking to do with your life. i'll say i'll be a teacher, if just for the fact that it suits me. i'm not asking for anything, and i think that's obnoxious. i like to be frustrating. it keeps me free to change, if just a little bit. i probably haven't changed at all. this is not a city that will hold me long; can't. now everything is my poetry: a sad masturbation. let me say nothing forever. i think it's pleasant. it satisfies me, sadly. quickly. LOL
record player just needed a new needle. cassette deck has trouble with any tapes that are damaged. cd player always works, and that's where my collection is trumped by the house's.
gruff, low hum of amazing grace to myself. yesterday, chuck recommended a delicates bag for me and my laundry. i hadn't noticed just how many holes were in my mock-neck: that one i got on my birthday that one year, with the jacket and the butterflymoth scarf and the big thief album, all one earth tone colour palette. they said if they can't repair it, their mum could.
please reach out. i called henry my faghag, me her fag, her on my arm. that's how it is. i told her, i'd be stolen away by a lesbian and her unwanted child if it were asked of me. that's where sally went: the lost roommate. stinky cries outside my door. i couldn't handle him alone. it's enough, to know i hurt my little self just that much & more when we're alone together. i don't want some kid. obviously i want you. i don't know how not to scare you; talk to me about anything; talk to be about everything; i want to be good to the kids, the kids are here. we are here. i love you forever. goodnight emma. find me if you can. i don't know what else to say.
i love you like a love song thumpin' from the living room. well-lit now. chuck & i redecorated, as we are wont to do. mostly, i body-doubled for chuck as they figured out the cat tower/window/multimedia shelf situation. they sporadically clean up things, because they know where their stuff is and where it's going. i support, give off-handed suggestions about feng shui. henry mostly has practical concerns about the monstera (i hope i'm gendering her correctly; huge fucking plant, amazing presence). chuck had a coy smile at my card, henry was like "what the fuck!!!" and they both proclaimed judy like a spell. it is! we moved the mirrors around again, which is always necessary and the right choice for each mirror every time. i played my worlds acoustic for my solo time in the living room, and eventually found the bulb we needed to complete the lamp-lighting of our beloved common space. everyone's remarking about it, and i'm silently proud i found that lightbulb in the garage. i organized the garage a little, just enough to help me out. chuck will say "that's for another time, another day," then do a thing in like fifteen minutes. but that rest is necessary! they put on bieber's post-selena breakup album, the one produced with diplo or whomever, and i felt the parallels were really funny. thinking about selena now. call me maybe played as i typed most of this. dynamite by taio cruz playing now, that's the song henry & i are duetting at karaoke tonight. she requested pink pony club from me, and i'm going to try my best to sing some happy lucy dacus, and pray to god katie gavin did some songs with muna in my range. chuck might make a pitstop, probably karaoke, depending on wesley. otherwise, they're doing their bulk of valentine's cards. so many, so much love. we made cookies for stinky, as well as wesley's cats. chuck thought to put little cat-chocolate treats in the centre. they used a tamp, the one for the coffee pod maker they thrifted before they knew what it really even did. they asked me to make their coffee this morning, because their's kept turning out like shit, they sad it needed to be made with love. they asked for my specific instructions on sugar and oat milk quantity. they asked me to take the first sip to verify its goodness. they did my eyebrows! henry suggested i do a little baby eyeliner, which is completing my euphoria tonight. i look amazing. happy galentimes to all, i love you
made a conspicuous run to dollarama because i decided i really wanted the shark for myself, and the capybara would parallel the egg even better as a gift because they both have puns on them. also, i'm just right about vibes. asked chuck what they wanted, added a brisk iced tea because they mentioned earlier that they love brisk iced tea, and i was worried the doritos/gummy bears would prove dry when stoned. i love taking care of stoned roommates. i'm so proud to know more about chuck's favourite snacks, as i feel i've been accidentally leaving them out of that rapport i've been building with henry. i am aiming to do more fashion talk with henry, as chuck already taught me the right way to shave. makeup day? for right now, i'm really proud of myself for the cards i made, how diy they are, the prose i came up with to genuinely compliment my roommates without making myself uncomfortable. i feel an immense grief washing over me as i acknowledge all this. i wish i had been this well last year.
got the perfect plushes from dollarama for galentine's. same price! one is an egg and one is a shark, which already count for icons of transfemininity, but i'm going a step further and making the cards out of my pink and blue construction paper. my cards will be full of thanks, which i think is a start
intake. i said the form i wrote in november would probably embarass me, but anyways i probably still have all those issues. it's good that my circumstances are different now. maybe now i need to know how to communicate, or i'm pretty sure it's just communicating negative emotion. i told aubrey i was disarmed, in a good way, that one of the first things they brought up was my ability to revoke consent. i didn't have any questions, really, just that one observation. they said most people don't usually have questions, but i still feel like an asshole for not having any good questions. i want a&w. i said gratitude first, then figured i might as well bring up reciprocity. aubrey brought that around to being a communal thing, which is making me well up typing it. i do think i've caused harm, i guess in the end it's mostly to myself. i've hurt everyone i've ever paid my full attention to, so i guess now i'm supposed to hate them for it. i'd like to show gratitude instead. i'd like to show gratitude to my roommates, for obvious reasons: they call me my name. aubrey's voice is so light, and i tried my best to be indirect in complimenting her tone, mostly just implying it made me feel safe. they used a phrase like, flood of emotion, or something. i feel like i need to ask my roommates' permission to sob about my life up to this point. i brought up jasmine.4.t, only because i was trying to communicate feeling. they said that's good, and they mentioned creativity as an outlet anyway, i guess i am always trying to be creative. i try
i can't cry all day; i really can't. i am going to dollarama so i can start on my valentine's gifts. i am maybe going to get some stuff from shopper's. i am wiping tears, but listening to my crying playlist. i dunno. i can't tell if i'm invited to thrifting? i think henry and chuck need to do something together, just themselves. they seem tense around one another this week. i feel totally okay about being pleasant with everyone, it's just that darn negative emotion i am scared of.
back seat of miss wagon! henry always gets shotgun; we're picking henry up from school (work). i booked an intake with aubrey. i recognized aubrey's face as one that might just know my life experiences. this is through stenberg. everyone seems impressed that i knew how to get free therapy. i'm sorry to be thanking you, emma
if i don't shower, i will be too overstimulated to shower! kind of have to hit it like a wake-and-bake (not that i know what that is): early enough that i forget it even happened by noon. for me, and for my life experience, this is a crucial step in suicide prevention. aiming for sobriety is also not only suddenly easy, but a fun exercise in finding parts of life to enjoy, and a way for me not to feel like shit all the time. also, i shave with a safety razor now. i'm burning sandalwood as i do my laundry, which is an easy thing to do here. three hinge likes: one too familiar, one probably wants to hit me, one is hot and seems to want the same things as me. this desk is so cool. typing up some answers to email questions from starbucks so i can maybe have a starbucks interview. who cares! gna help chuck diffuse the back of their bob cuz disability. "disability!" they sing
stinky is sniffing my sweater from my lap. he wants into my sweater! ok little buddy. swaddling like baby. i love his little trills
what to share?
yesterday—because i asked henry about it in the morning, who told chuck to do it by evening—chuck set the thermostat scheduling so the house would be warmer overnight. thanks chuck! told them (indirectly; said it to henry, as chuck locked in to the thermostat tucked away behind our glasswares cabinet) that my parents' house gets down to fourteen degrees on cold winter nights. they don't have heated blankets, but henry assumed they must—that i just didn't, like neglect or something.
i got back on hinge this morning, mostly because i realized i was afraid of being rejected by the princess café/theatres. chuck offered their purple paper to help my rayzoomays stand out, then semi-voluntold henry to help fancy up the formatting (her canva is really fucking good, like for really real). i couldn't get myself to shower today, and chuck said no minimum wage worker is going to care about that, and said they think i might be procrastinating. i think they just wanted to go to costco but i was too stuck in my head to be bargained with, which reads like me harbouring some passive aggression, which i know bothers chuck. i'm versatile on my good days, but stubborn in unpredictable ways when something feels awry. i just don't want to be seen unshowered by anyone. chuck feels this way too, and we've talked about it, and there are specific triggers buried in these things that can only be unpacked slowly. what matters is that chuck sees themself in me, and vice versa, and it feels like we are trying to work on being safe about it; siblings. henry and i feel like cousins, like probably our dads could be brothers. i'm pretty sure chuck and i have the near-same mum, just that their mum knows what divorce is.
i napped all afternoon on the couch. my newly-thrifted couch pillow is full of duck feathers and has a cute little geometric pattern (very me), and my newly-thrifted couch blanket was from indigo in a past life (burgundy, has frills). chuck volunteered their yellow throw blanket to keep the stencher warm (him curled up in the warm spot behind my tucked knees), which they let me know is a "bonus blanket" situation. i woke up to giggling a few times, like a sleepover, and found myself feeling incredibly safe by the early evening. suddenly, i was pretty sure no one was mad at me, and i felt no urge to egg on any overt angry outbursts, and i just felt admired for my own cluelessness.
i have time. i will find a job i like, and book some free therapy again.
lightly held my chest and went "ah" seeing the application fees total up on my screen. okay! i will wait to see what ontario works wants to send me; i don't know if i'm poor or not; henry just interrupted my poverty thought spiral to invite me to my own birthday karaoke, which will not cost anybody much of anything, and i want mccain deep dish cakes, and they're gonna invite their goodest friends to fill the room and keep good company, and it will be a good night, and i will have happy birthdays from here on out, if i want
showering is, like, so nice.
been getting really overwhelmed by jobs and stuff. mostly, i am not listening to what i know i would be good at, and instead beating myself up over a lack of quantity in my applications. if i could shoot them out with a money gun, i don't think that would really endear me to any businesses other than the hustlegrindset fuckers over at multi-level-marketing incorporated.
i am really disappointed about long & mcquade. i felt like a psycho with my last text to cath, which is telling me two strikes, which means i think i will wait for her to say/post something new, so i can try to converse with a new thought. i feel like i am telling everyone, really loudly, "KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME," and mostly it doesn't seem to be a joke. yesterday, after we all ran down our batteries at value village (new winter parka btw! it was free), we shared things as roommates, and i was honest about feeling guilty to speak or take up space, and everyone was really assuring in a way that let me say okokok let's move on plsthanks.
it's a novel concept, that i am not "the way that i am" because of one particular trauma. really amazing, actually, how i could internalize, then repackage, a bit of awful conservative thought like that. and it got shot down!
how to stop feeling like mclovin
how to embrace your mclovin
mclovin makeup tutorial
so, so, so dissociated today. circumstances of my birth [read: i woke up like this], easier to blog [read: i miss being an annoying texter], tuna of bimbofication [read: eating it out of the can whilst the car onlooks politely, ergo feeling like the alpha kitty. mrow], mrow
insane guitar solo playing from the shower speaker right now. i'm too twee for this. chuck said "i'm gonna do something really cute" and walked upstairs an hour ago, and i eventually caught them taping something on henry's door (she's with a client) (chuck said "move along" in classic comedy-savant fashion). they said "i'm gonna close your door for a second" and i said okay whatever that's about... as i typed the last entry. they put hopecore affirmations (screenshots of cute tumblr posts; shit that i would save on pinterest) on everyone's doors, even three on their own. mine made me cry. the first one is about postcards. are you fucking kiddng me? i'm gonna cry about it for a third time
thinking a lot about comfort/ability today.
i try my best to look wealthy, and in my worse cases i'm like a handsome-but-downtrodden prince, so i don't think there's much expectation for me to be a 'capable' or 'competent' creature. maybe something about me looks dysregulated, submissive, what-have-you. i feel immense pride when i get to do the shopping (gets me on a walk), and i feel really useless when i accidentally miss something in a store, or get too overstimulated to make intuitive choices. chuck got me to apply for the faster-turnover/not-so-austere version of ontario's unemployment, which pipelines you into getting on disability once you get a doctor's confirmation of whatever 'real' disability is to those people. hrt is up in the air, which is to say i have to tell my family doctor to fuck off and fix her heart and find myself something thru the waterloo health services instead. that is also not my last option. henry and chuck exchanged anecdotes whilst i was most locked-in on my one application. chuck also said i should apply for school, and it's not march or may or whatever yet, so i really just might, because they have a really good sense about the things they share like that. i noticed chuck do a big breath at one point, and so i did a big breath instinctively, and i had to fight back tears from it. that keeps happening. mostly i'll think of a song lyric, and hope i don't look too nutty googling song lyrics all the time, then i add a song to my little diary. this is more of a chat log blog. my fawn response is actually just giggling, and i realize that must feel so condescending depending on what i talk about. when i say "no i'm giggling because i literally don't know what the answer to that question is either," everybody in the room feels a certain tension easing. i can tell chuck is headcanoning me as alani from i love la, because that's also what i'm doing. i genuinely cannot help myself from being earnest. everyone thinks i'm pretty stupid but also really trustworthy and sweet; like i'm a secret autism oracle tuned to the universe, you just have to listen in; shoshanna. henry, who describes girls as "a show [her] parents would watch," finds i love la hilarious; she said she also felt spiritually californian as a child. we're both obviously autistic, maybe just short of the powerhouse audhd of chuck. let me just transcribe everyone's medical records onto here real quick
what felt like several minutes to say "i forgot what i was gonna say" because i didn't realize recalling the one time i took psych 101 would bring up bad memories. still the worst summer of my life! preceding my favourite school season, then maybe the best summer of my life, and then a few septembers and holidays kind of oscillating until the very worst holidays of all time. and it was charlie kirk's fault, which is kind of hilarious in the grand scheme of the world.
it's very easy to say how much we love the cat. i was overfeeding him because i'm new and he gives me so much attention always. he took turns between chuck and i as i made my way thru the one good family trauma dragon show, and chuck got a good nap in. i tactically deployed the cat when i could, based on how weary their breathing sounded. i let the show play on as i got up for 2 a.m. bedtime, happy i'd know exactly where to rewind to. chuck and stinky fall asleep to it all the time, chuck says it's an easy world to dream about.
i showed everyone i love la, and they loved it, and it got them sharing their inside jokes with me
septum flipped, earrings turned inwards, hair is the way i really don't like having it. this is a bit. also, kind of hate this dress shirt? might fancy-clothes-shop in the backyard value village with henry tomorrow, because our neighbour's husband has a book launch in the jazz room and it's supposed to be fancy, but also a "sensory experience," which i joked sounded like a setup to the events of an episode of hbo girls, but we all agreed that this is waterloo, ontario.
can't wait to laugh about the pyramid scheme job interview. just gonna put on my baby blue dress shirt. she's cute!
bulut thought henry and i were jokingly swapping our names, which i picked up on but ignored. in the same way, i would have spent a week doing commissions-only telemarketing on the off-chance that i were imagining things.
there's something better everywhere, i think. i am completely lost and that's okay. i am full of love
picking at my ears with monkey's demeanor. sitting on my bed and zoning out feels a better use of my time than showering today, given i'll just have to put my hair up anyway. i keep wanting to make arrangements. i guess that doesn't go away, it's kind of just frowned upon really. obviously it's easiest to want to make arrangements with people who wouldn't frown upon it, but my problem is that i keep knowing people whose response to me actually, overtly asking for that would also still be "are you okay? do you need help?"
okayy enough witht the nighty mareys! it must be that i'm not getting up to piss when i first wake up at 4 a.m., or something. that would make me pretty jumpy even in waking hours. i have an ontologically evil job interview today, so i can be a phone plan salesman. i have to wear my suit for the 15 minute zoom interview/pyramid scheme onboarding. i have to use my laptop and sit in the generic-looking corner between my desk and my closet. i have to turn off the part of my brain that wants to smoke a bong on camera and ask them about their dreams. and then i have to be nice to the part of my brain that thinks i'm being corny and should just take a job i hate. i can't wait for this afternoon to be over! lmao
i'm always a natural at open mic nights. rotating host 1/3 really liked me. he could do a perfect cover of almost any song at request. his name is dexter. lmao. i'm happy this is his job, and i'm happy to know he belongs in a bar and i don't.
nightmares are genuinely frustrating, because i'm not learning anything new about myself. i can have good dreams that are incredibly scary, but at least i wake up with curiousity. today it was: flooded canals, dirt mountain, incomplete staircase. i'm sorry, but that's just not going into a song
the thoughts after are not too awful, relatively speaking. mostly it's just acceptable forms of self-harm (ie. hinge). thinking about how i can talk so easily to emily in any state, after any length of time, knowing we are truly friends, and still i feel like a vampire. everybody else, then, is making me feel so much worse. they all hate me because i'm not working/fucking
at least when i feel attractive, that feels like the sole source of my evil. when i feel ugly, the polite term would be 'devil tranny.' very much teetering on deleting this, but i dunno. thinking of finding someone to make an arrangement with on hinge. it wouldn't be that bad. i just wouldn't tell anyone and i'd do a lot of bad drugs to balance things. first, i need to shower and get dressed and take pictures where i look adequately vulnerable. nevermind
had a predictable dream [read: nightmare] set in the funeral home, so i just applied to work at a crematorium. one of the requirements would be to lead in witnessings, which maybe feels like something i am overqualified for.
the rest is like, i need to stop pretending i am able to do hard manual labour. i am not a firefighter, i am not a macho mass of muscles et cetera. i am happy to do housework! normal, real people housework. you know the rest
good morning angels: is the vibe here right now. pan with soapy water by the sink caught the light beautifully. and the plants, too.
coffee reminds me i don't know how to convey sarcasm in my tone! no matter, it's reflection time.
drunk guy at a urinal beside you will say "club bathrooms suck" and you will have the honesty with yourself to double back just to wait for the stall. gatsby will tell you his life story and also fear you for asking "and who's the girl this night is about?" you will be earnestly annoying to the guy who knows henry from high school giving her a beer from his pitcher and it will earn you a beer as well
cordial return of henry's lip gloss. will never remember when it was i took off my butterfly clips. love myself for keeping them safe. "i love coffee" like it's a revelation. don't have the heart to make a chuck-joke like "wow you were a mess last night" cuz i'm like no, we both prob believe that about ourselves for real. okay maybe i should make the joke bye see you soon
Skipped the Queen I Promised and Elvis Presley (For Myself?) at karaoke and just fucking Went Home. That's Love, God Damn It!!!
i have a rose that might have been from a napkin that might have been from Jane Bond. and he gave us shots and his Debit Card. anf he's coming into 2 million dollars? i genuinely do not Give A Fuck. i hope we sleep well and Chuck settles in as well as possible. Bulut is waiting, and i am not.
tattoos thru my veins: they're gonna kill me for having fun. Two syory likes is too much!! look at my forearms... big development ... notbing ever changes. i am eating Lindor. i need to prepare myself for tomorrow. i need a good week. please emoloy me full-Time
piss check: well i guess I hope my shame is apparent. i dont know wgat else to do!!! 18% tip? more!?? i am sleeping with the cat. i am letting my bestieroomate know i am asexual. i am hoping the message sticks thru morning. if you're reading, it's no moral failing. if you're not, whatever. it is; it is
shut the FUCK UP timestamp: Henry's lipgloss in my pocket; when did i take off my butterflies????? genuine question, scared at the fact that I kept them: i an going to Costco tomorrow to repay all debts. Will the butterflies take? will i be kept??
no idea about the cat. "i know, baby" repeated as much as humanly possiuble. duck liver??? missed calls from strange numbers. Please don't charge me for the doubles i got for me and my friend. You said we were on the same Path. please repsect our Soul Connection. stinky ate duck liver. i ate your ideas about The Human Soul. we're all going to bed and i love you
henry: "i'm really glad" about our night out together. manic guy who might text me: absolutely zero response expected from myself to this Creature of the Night. talking about highschool lesbian situationships, waterloo high school alumni come arouhd by the bathrooms. sticker on my phone for how excellent i am at the difficult job. no idea how i'm coming across to the uber driver. we make it home alive; i have yhe keys. i'll have feelings in the morning. fir now, i drink wanter and feed the wining cat. i have miley cyrus voice, (lost) which is funny and lowkey attractive to many lesbinas et ceterina
everybody sleeping in their idiosyncratic ways across the house, doors all open as they are. such a warm house for this hour, for what i'm used to. sleepover vibes. i get my water. i can be myself, instead of just leaving because i happen to be the one awake. i am happy to take this shift, glasses off. earbuds are out, too. we're all listening to the tv
last night i dreamt henry, chuck, and i were going to a festival. streets packed. chuck & i overconfident in our abilities to play the entirety of dragon new warm mountain i believe in you as a set. back into the house, off a stoop, henry & i find chuck sleep-humming. i join. when i wake, i realize it was angels off b-sides. i find that funny, give it two passes, and conclude i don't need to add it to any playlists right now. wet hair, i'm humming biggie smalls, tiny laughs about what songs get stuck in our heads, making up my spot on the couch before i make my coffee, opening blinds, turning on lights. starting a two hour video talking about a bad ocd book at a low volume, i see that emma must have just added angels to a playlist. i let myself slow down. everything is there, at my edges. none of it is too personal, but of course i get to feel it personally. it is everything, after all
i guess, politically, i'm a lesbian who fucks; interpersonally, i'm a romantic; and, physically, i'm asexual. whatever that means. should i put this on my linkedin???
got over the initial waiting freeze, i think. it's so snowy out there now. '1–2 weeks' must really mean two, then. i dunno. mostly brainstorming other jobs i can seek? i need stability, and low stakes, and also it's okay for me to want for better conditions than those typical of sex work.
never felt this frozen waiting for anything before, but i guess i've never worked full-time either! laying in bed now. very pretty clouds out there.
move-in day, chuck immediately had a bag of fancy french sprays, make-up, and bright nail polishes for me to take. it was their old stuff, never used. they told me later, driving the pussywagon, "is that okay? one of my love languages is grooming," and explained how one of their clients had been a young trans man fighting a bigoted family to get on hrt. chuck helped him get on hrt. the other day, they had a pink scrunchie to give me, and flung it in that ironic thumb-ironsight way. i did not successfully catch it. at one point, they were doing a rotation of what-mirrors-go-where in the house, and i briefly spotted them as they put a big mirror by the door. i caught the plastic cover that got knocked off the doorbell (at their request, "with haste!!"), then attested that the mirror was lined up perfectly with the lightswitch. they otherwise don't want to be doted on when doing housework like that, maybe most especially during a flare-up. i'm wearing the pink scrunchie now, back to bed. i really like it here
woke up from the night's nightmare, suddenly aware of my safety. i was feeling like there was going to be a second move; there was going to be some dissatisfied construction project that consumed my whole life, away from any chance at employment. i'm going to share that i'm stressed about the job call this week.
also, i go nonverbal sometimes. that's literally not bad. they both work with autistic kids in the community, giving them therapy. they both think i'm sweet. henry called me cool. chuck called me an angel. everyone's so thoughtful all the time. i'm going to tell them i was taking most of yesterday to cry. emma would like it here
lights off, tucked into bed, wondering: can i sleep from dusk till dawn? certainly a wintery challenge. i hope this regulates me; waiting to hear back about my potential life-altering job offer all week, or, getting a call first thing tomorrow that decides it. chuck is going thru it with their grad school application: waiting. their partner is so nice. he was asking me about i saw the tv glow. "i need to rewatch it!" obviously i'm there for his rewatch journey. he's helping out, which has me trying to picture my hypothetical partner helping me in this moment. they'd just be with me in this twin bed. i would have no fear in my mind that they're trying to have sex with me. they'd braid my hair, telling me about stuff.
crying even as i sit upright now! uh-oh! i'm criss cross applesauce and i'm still crying what do i do what do i do
i am definitely touch starved and also terrified of giving up my boundaries on sex again and also still haven't figured out how to actually have those boundaries and i have no interest in slamming myself into brick walls to figure that out. but i'm so lonely. there are solutions without violence. those are the only things we can call solutions, actually. it's true because i can imagine it
just needed to lie down and let my tears roll on their own. it happens.
melancholic walk thru wloo park (rootbeer in gloved hand) and a bit of crying waiting for my bus home. might nap up here in my room. full-body tired. got worried about my knee. got flush, maybe embarrassed, on the computer. maybe i'm depressed. i need a job, so whatever. hhhhhhhh
bus ride back! i think all my trauma is cured!
just me on here. i'm da king of da bus. is there a word for asexual hyperromantic that sounds cool... no
most earnest guy alive waiting for the 4. i'm waiting for the 5. "it's a disgrace," he says about late buses. pivot to how really only the ion is good, "are you a student? you dropped out of music!?" he says i look like weird al yankovic, the old one, with the hair and the glasses. i say thank you with a joy that is nothing but sincere. there's the 4. blogging about it
more stunned seeing a random blue truck from my window than i ever was at a face i thought i recognized on the bus. go figure. i wrote a good album, i think! nervous to see cath. i hope they are well, also i hope i am well. i hope i don't break down (daily hope since birth), and i also hope i am not closed off. we never really knew eachother, but also, we obviously know eachother. i hope we know eachother moving forward! there's never really any way for me to prepare questions, nor to prepare what to do with my body. i kind of want to come out as all sorts of things all at once, like a cloud of smoke. i kinda wanna just walk around.
excited by the prospect of releasing my own album today. type of thing i would tell random strangers, as though i were ebenezer scrooge giving them an uncharacteristically joyful treasure they will cherish moving forwards. two weeks! actually, just ten days. but all it took was that change!! jeez!!!!!!!
in & out of my room with an ease and moment-to-moment impulse i can genuinely never remember having. it's intuition, bruv! door open, in-ears genuinely just hanging over my ears, listening to my girly hype music (highway 61 revisited) as i play another rocket league match. da life
she is FORAGING and HUNTING and GATHERING and BRAVING THE ARCTIC and BEING VERY BRAVE ABOUT THE ANKLE'S WORTH OF FLUFFY DUSTING GETTING KIND OF IN HER BOOT ON THE ONE MINUTE WALK TO DOLLARAMA. and she is buying clam chowder & an oh henry for henry & a steal-worth of other good snacks for the chilly night in. and she is making the good kind of ramen right now after she goes downstairs in her jammies again and washes her hands et cetera
getting ready to make the trek to our corner store (shopper's drug mart; no, actually, dollarama!) while the sun's out (hello, again, blue)! restocking on snacks, gna ask henry "want anything?" etc etc. chuck found the ginger snacks they mentioned yesterday, and they're so strong and the sugar fits so suprisingly well?? they made us all tea (orange pekoe; extra stock from the garage; a deviation from the david's tea standard of this rich home).
henry asks, "out there? in the cold?" and remarks on her aversion to ever doing such a thing. i am winning affection every time she calls me a freak or weirdo, as per our shared cultural standard. i am obviously the weirder one, given my nonchalance about omegaverse stuff. "stay safe!" and i laugh, genuinely thinking it was a joke for the seconds i was stepping out the door. then i took it to heart, though
2122
★★★½
i don't know the rolling stones and i was just listening to highway 61 revisited and i wanted a better vibe. here we are! i fucking love when he do the little vocalizations... i bet someone like rick rubin would say "no don't do that" to the vocalizations and that is why we gotta [redacted]
3d country
★★★★★
me when i'm literally blushing. what is going on. i felt like this one time listening to a jacob collier song in high school. so so concerning. what the fuuuck... love when so much is going on but it sounds pleasant too. like, you can do that if you want! smiling and fixing one of the keys on this here clacker. pretty sure there was just some dirt in thar. but it's the '-' key so you really notice when there's a double entry! HIT ME, MOTHERFUCKER! things i will only say in a song :)
cowboy nudes
★★★★
HARRY STYLES??? hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. the blushing continues wowwwwwwww... literally losing it at this point. my door is open i hope the 3/4 view of the back of my head does not look too deranged. i am justified however. i wonder if i will ever get big cans for my head again! prob not. felt so burned by those insane-expensive sonys getting fucking wrecked by some mild ottawa cold. whateva. my ear canals r so warm and all my in-ear configurations are in my comfortable, familiar zone anyway. i don't think i need to block out much noise, anymore, anyway. wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i see myself
★★★★½
coffee break! i take that shit basically white these days. fancy/working keurig and costco pods actually taste rlly good with dairy, no need for sugary alchemy nor to hide the coffee grinds (there aren't any wtf). tryna pick a spot in my room to hook my lil snark tuner onto that would feel fun and camp. already had this song liked, no idea when that happened. fucking rocks tho. hello kitty mug btw
undoer
★½
could this be the first geese song i listen to and fully not like... i dunno, don't play with me right now cameron. i don't like the sounds of being at the dentist i'm sorry!!! i'm sorry!!! dad sending me progress pics of a five-string kit bass as if to confirm. skipped around halfway thru!
crusades
★★½
ok yes so now i hear the stones influence or whatever they're all saying. always good to wear these things on the sleeve, as i avoided this album for what was on the tin. no worries! every band really does have room to grow xoxo
gravity blues
★★★½
generally cute, like endearing or whatever. it's when he sings low that gets me! also, kind of beatles harmonies or something? gotta finish this coffee before 3 PM lest i fall asleep at some crazy hour like 11 PM. i can rock with these kinds of glass shard sound effects, just not those other ones. wawawa vavava voom
mysterious love
★★★
my deodorant smells so good here for some reason, like maybe mixes well with my new soaps? i pick em well. the way it says 'MEN' under the grey 'unscented' label is so funny to me now. my butch deodorant tea... we're way too into the '70s with this fucking song, which is kind of what endears it to me. every criticism i make is one i hope would make anthony fantano's head explode. but it probably wouldn't, he seems generally level-headed and self-satisfied in his position of authority or something. why am i saying this at all
domoto
★★★★
big thumpy fucking piano bass yes yes yes hello and what else even. thjis guy really does write like dylan. and now the chorus kind of sounds like twenty one pilots? fucking awesome. saint joseph mention. i'm so good at hanging stuff on my walls. chuck complimented the cleverness of my idea to hang guitars by their cases.
tomorrow's crusades
★★★★
holding a decently impressive plateau at the end of the album? with cool/alt arrangement of violins and stuff? black country; new road gets their american competition. ohhh. brief embarassment, then going back to enjoying the music. whateva! glad to get this one under the belt, who shall i listen to next? i have the instinct to critique some bob dylan, but i use him to lock into rocket league these days. lmfao
st. elmo
★★
girl, whatever! no worries
you'd love the arrangement of my hello kitty posters. you'd love the contrasts in my room; how it all fits together intuitively. i don't know much else, actually. i think that's what lingers. i want to know what you think of my roommates—i can make my guesses, even hope to pre-emptively shield you from the shame you might feel—but mostly, i just hope you'll feel safe enough to share some more honest thoughts with me. i saw this cover by random chance (or at least, as random as random can be these days), and i wished so hard i'd find a way to send it to you. that was probably just a month ago, but that feels lifetimes away, now. here it is, then: Hobos lullaby - YouTube
isn't his voice so pretty?
staying in today literally just to stay warm. new concept to me. i am so fucked if they think my references are sketchy. or not, i literally do not know. no one taught me this stuff, or i didn't let them, or i don't give a shit let me live in peace. whilst chuck & stinky were taking their morning nap (this time set to the true crime doldrums of bones—later season, which is when it got bad, apparently), i softly asked henry, "henry, did you buy these cinnamon swirl loaves?" to which henry mouthed/signed the words, "they're all yours." i smiled and did a hang-ten, for some reason. she clearly got them on her way home yesterday, after what seemed like literally the biggest day ever. they were 50% off at shopper's (huge pink sticker, hello), which sets the new precedent under which i will be buying these pastries for henry & i, moving forward. chuck & i are kind of body doubling gamers, here upstairs. they're working on their master's application, and i am here blogging. i am trying to insist they take all the time they can on giving me their old nightstand (they have to take the stuff off of it, and find a new home for said stuff—nuff said) because i would not be able to accept the gift of their nightstand under any sort of duress. also, in the way henry reminds me of myself & the people from my childhood, chuck's spirit reminds me strongly of
yeah!
i want to be reached out to. of course i want that. i feel everything all the time. i think i feel more than is appropriate. i don't think i can dilute it. obviously, i'm marianne. obvious to me. show's not so bad. have to watch it in the living room, for my sake.
do i reach out again? i don't know how to. can i? i don't know. i want to.
on the wikipedia page for quakers bc i might wanna see that ann lee movie. that's all, actually.
random encounter with julia on the bus, yesterday, after my job (lifelong career) interview at long & mcquade. mutual what-the-fuck-lol faces at eachother felt like the icebreaker, and all we ended up really saying was 'cats' and 'we have cats,' which is actually quite lovely, and adult, i think. consensus was: cats r crazy, but that's the point. stinky (the cat) currently loafing on my lap/abdomen, wrangled by my throw wrapped over him. he's been sooo restless in an empty house (halsey concert sunday, chuck & henry came back last night). i'm taking on the sisyphean task of keeping him occupied and cuddled as the morning routine kicks back into gear. i relate to everything about him.
ended up turning off repeat-one, feeling ecstatic once katy perry came on. i got a call on the bus about an interview monday. that was so quick. recording ended up an amalgamation, maybe even a surprise. necessary part of discovering honesty. typing this one-handed in the costco checkout line. kids behind me self-advocating to their parents using terms like 'overstimulated.' food court food looks sick as hell. so packed. really stressful job, working here. i'm sweating. feeling like the pride of the house today. got an ice cream cone: swirl.
spotify on repeat-one today. looping the song i know i'm interpolating with the day's uptown-walk lyrics. old guy at the music store said i could probably wing band knowledge with my experience. full-time, woah mama. writing this from the bus stop. now the bus! capital!!
my hair's just like this. the twin bed suits me—it's just an extension of my cushy body. we breathe in polyrhythm. we're getting in a few decades of rest, and then we're watching a movie, and then we're trying something new. maybe there's a café, i don't know. i buy a lot of groceries, or maybe these are just pastries on clearance. i know exactly how to make your coffee. i cry just like this, and i get sad on cloudy, windy days like this. it rains, and so there's rest again. there's so much to organize everywhere. there's a snack table in a meadow, and the wedding photographer can't get the reins on anyone. by chance, your biggest smile is caught in a blur just at the edge of the frame. i'm flowing. it's glossy paper in a book somewhere, and we are made notorious for the love we found in the world. eventually, we don't know who keeps these memories, but they know us. they have faith in love, because of us.
beautiful shower tiles that hold on to the hair that leaves. there are no more knots to untangle. it's an hour every morning, an hour i can't help but take with gratitude. younger roommate is younger by a technicality of months; we take the silence head-on together, and i will buy her pastries whenever i'm out. older roommate is older only on paper; we ask probing questions together, and i will buy them popcorn twists whenever i'm out.
i want to listen to everything so badly. there is nothing to drown out, so there is nothing i need to liquify. i want to lean in, to let all states of matter take me on.
giving my hair a damp-scrunch for good measure, then putting on pyjamas, then heading downstairs for morning coffee. there are so many things to talk about. there's not a single place or time i can't take a phone call here.
that feeling when we're quiet around eachother, and i hardly know you! but i feel like i do; i feel like: we are in a space in-between together, and we don't see eachother, but we know eachothers' presences. it's really romantic, and it's what family is supposed to be. not everyone got that, but we're learning to manage the feeling of finally getting it. i get it.
night before the move. i couldn't believe it all fit in the truck, i can't believe it all fits in the truck; i can never believe how quickly i pack, or how much more efficient i get at it each time. mind you, i have more stuff to pack each time!
i kissed ethan & bailey on their left shoulders as we said goodbye last night. not sure what that was about. forgiveness? the questions they asked, or rather their trepidation on the whole subject of me, and moreso the questions they didn't ask, reminded me of something i'm working on forgiving. it's present in everyone; no amount of it could scare me now. ethan's going to work for tesla for four months, and for him i am excited that he will get to experience a different country/climate in nevada. it was literally just this sunday i pulled the teeth that revealed to me his offer of housing had always been hollow, that revealed there really was no fuss i could have made to get the help i was asking from him. i forgave him as it happened, because i knew, for him, it felt like being twelve again. for me, it put me back in the hopelessness that he'd been hoping to keep from seeing. it took until wednesday at noon, when i got the news of my luck persisting, that i could tell he'd finally relaxed on the matter. i felt bad for him for each of those days.
listening to my moment-to-moment playlist! my pick-me-up playlist! what a concept! what a joy! what a blessing! of course, i've still got worries to drown, there's still one more gambit to play tomorrow: i have to pretend my awesome/cool/gay new roommates (with a cat! a hairless cat! a hairless fucking, sphynx-whatever, cat!) used to have ethan as a roommate, that, more importantly, this move was just serendipitous, financially-neutral happenstance because of ethan's big co-op win, and that i, too, believe we've gone soft on children, that sometimes they just need a good smack. it's funny, in a horribly-sad-irony way, to watch a man cry through the overwhelming, repressed emotion that comes up from recalling a childhood of violence from adults, and to watch him reaffirm, in real-time, his belief that this was beneficial to his development. i guess this is just the appeal of jordan peterson. it's scary, really—but that's not going to help me to sleep.
the rolling stones
★★★★★
gentle angel sweet baby angel. dudes will be like "his mom is the ceo of polyamory" as if that means he's an incel like them. and not talk about his concussions from youth football? this is a young man filled with love. 2026 is the year we stop saying 'old soul' and recognize (and care for!) disability fr
nausicaä (love will be revealed)
★★★★★
his songs give me this intense manic peace that idk how to explain. it's the sound i always imagined i'd have once i got rich from engineering and went ham on a fancy macbook with logic pro x. every little sound is its own guy, and i know the guy, and i love the guy!
love takes miles
★★★★★
waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
drinking age
★★★★★
this is the point in the album where i go, jesus fucking christ i don't know if i can listen to a perfect album right now. piano arrangement really gets me through it. love love love how light his lyrics usually are, like just another one of the sounds even! pacing is so important in an album.
cancer of the skull
★★★★★
:) !! reminds me a lot of dragon new warm mountain i believe in you honestly. i fully believe his solo + band work could just be a discography of constant five star albums for me. what if joan baez and bob dylan also had their own bands as good as the beatles... adrianne lenker + cameron winter joining boygenius 2026 like pauls with wings or something idk the historical analogy for that. there is so much good music everywhere. i still cry a lil/lot to every one of these tracks even as i write btw
try as i may
★★★★★
definitive proof that i'm a permanent sucker for that bedroom production sound. not that i don't like bands, probably i'm just bc;nr-brained with the band arrangements i want. i wonder what jacob collier is getting up to rn? i will always appreciate his contribution, i mightn't have known your bedroom could sound orchestral like that otherwise... "you were born to break my big hairy football arms like clean windows kill the birds" jumpscare
we're thinking the same thing
★★★★★
it's called being in your twenties hunny ever heard of her????? hahahaha i looooove life like woah my goodness. everybody please be kind to my son he is just a human artist like the rest of us!
nina + field of cops
★★★★★
barn burner.
$0
★★★★★
i wonder if he'll use an ampersand in any of the song titles on his next album? really off-topic, whatever. this is just too fucking absurd though, right? like i'm not imagining the absurdity of this? suddenly i remember i have a voice, and that it's an instrument that i, too, know how to use in this way, and this is just a guy, and he's not me, but i'm enough like him that i could do this too! i really could! and isn't that just really fucking weird???
can't keep anything
★★★★★
really just darn sweet! if i ever wrote take it with you i'd think to myself, okay i've covered all the topics now i don't need to make an album. but he let it flourish! the world let him flourish. what a beautiful thing.
trinidad
★★★½
american white boy in ireland experiences island vacation on a technicality; unfortunately, there is most definitely a bomb in his car. from the basement version has a much better energy; doubtless a banger at live shows.
cobra
★★★★★
not only an excellent practice in vocal placement, but some of the most fun you can have singing a song at your dad.
husbands
★★★★½
decently angsty subversion of a lot of big thief songs; yes we are in a band. absolutely charmed by the immaturity of this. sort of awash in indescribable relief at the notion of the cowboy-poseur era ending; grunge is back baybee!
getting killed
★★★½
decent synopsis of a lot of green day songs.
islands of men
★★½
truly a feat to make each song its own island. a cool own, to dunk on your early-20s fantano fuckboy crowd like this, but are we just going to ignore the droves of early-20s trans women who love cameron winter? write a song like this about me cameron winter!!! timchal is getting woman'd right now, in a way that feels primed to gain him favour among young adult transgenders, so maybe i'm just (yet again) an early adopter to a forthcoming wave; maybe camwint won't notice this demographic shift until the next album? lead guitarist emily green, you are seen
100 horses
★★★★
the banshees of inisherin
half real
★★★★½
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
au pays du cocaine
★★★★★
hello and this is the kind of songwriting i need to be doing even!
bow down
★★★
probably the gluey-est song on the record; least island-like. total meh; inoffensive.
taxes
★★★★½
you already know
long island city here i come
★★★★★
u alr kno