Hi! You look so good today! Glowing! Just so you know :)
I have been working very hard on a piece about offal and Brexit that quite literally gave me a migraine yesterday because I want it to be good! Soooo many of you are U.K. based (which makes me feel very glamorous) and I want to do right by you <3 and life is funny and, amidst researching sweet breads, I gave myself a conniption.
To steady myself, I’ve become obsessed with images from this book, The Romance of Food, by Barbara Cartland. Just… fun!
Today is not the day for a conniption, I’ve decided. Today is the day where some people are carrying flowers around and some other people are all saying “you got me flowers!”
Though I quite enjoy observing (and participating in hehe) the románce of it all, I’ve been terribly busy with headphones ON listening to the new Lana all day. I was on-beat with her chorus just as the golden hour was dusting up. There’s a kind of annoying but mostly very sweet conversation with her and Billie Eilish out today on Interview. Isn’t love kind of annoying but mostly very sweet?
Anyway, Lana’s “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd?” is all about a forgotten, man-made cavern, mosiaic-ed and still standing. No one remembers, it doesn’t much matter, she sings, but “Don’t forget me.”
Another burst of celeb joy today? My friend Eileen Cartter, who I can confirm has always been an elite genius, wrote about Emma Chamberlain and Role Model in GQ. Delicious!
I am a person who keeps things. Not messy, but definitely in abundant boxes. If you’ve given me a note or a compliment, I likely have it somewhere. On my hard drive is a document on what it feels like to be in love, to have loved the people I have loved. I did shed a tear at the dinner table last night, as I am want to do, thinking about the contents of my heart and those who live there.
I think often (too much, maybe) of the end of Joyce’s Ulysses, where Molly daydreams while she waits for Leo to come to bed. She remembers their early romance, her feeding him a seedcake (ew, sorry. Not to kinkshame.), while she’s all cuddled up under the covers.
I love that feeling of zoning out, wondering abstractly, remembering, waiting lazily for someone to bring you coffee or a glass of water. Not romantic love even, but the love haloed by covers tucking you in. Last week, I was with a best friend in her expansive bed, watching a show, tucked in with the cat between us –– I felt incredibly lucky. That feeling, you know? Of thinking about what you’ll wear when you end up leaving your little cocoon, what will happen out in the world, being fortified from the warmth of that distracted rest.
So much of Ulysses is freaky and strange, concerned with consumption; Leo Bloom cooking livers, going to the butcher to get kidneys, being emasculated, questioning media, being dominated, singing funny little songs in his head. But Joyce ended the book with “the most positive word in the English language”, with Molly, lying about, contemplating her life and remembering: “yes I said yes I will. Yes.”
Anyway. More soon. Love ya!