(back to main blog)


Hating it Lush: On Tel Aviv (Kaleem Hawa)
Militarized Adaptation (Mona Ali)
Across the globe, indigenous rights are being trampled in lithium goldrush


big achievement: ran 20 min today for the first time! (then a 5 min walk, then another 5 min run)
in my feels a bit today, can't tell if this relationship will ever work. running helps me stay kind to myself.

watched dune 1 yesterday, its cringe but the thing the witches keep repeating about fear is stuck in my head:
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

DJ Habibeats set at Midway is absolutely insane and inspiring
lessons: lots of vocals, quick cuts, every drop only once, practice technical skills, idk what he's using his laptop for? samples? he's a real DJ....

this quote from Olga Tokarczuk has been haunting me for months – I don't know if it spurred my existential crisis or anchored it:
I realized that we were the sort of people whom the world regards as useless. We do nothing essential, we don’t produce important ideas, no vital objects or foodstuffs, we don’t cultivate the land, we don’t fuel the economy. We haven’t done any reproducing, except for Oddball, who does have a son, even if it’s just Black Coat. So far we’ve never provided
the world with anything useful. We haven’t come up with the idea for any invention. We have no power, we have no resources apart from our small properties. We do our jobs, but they are of no significance for anyone else. If we went missing, nothing would really change. Nobody would notice.

As climate change fractures communities, folklorists help stitch them back together

031624 (pt. 2)

I WANT TO READ, voraciously. I want to know all there is to know about all the things there are to know. I want to walk into a room and smile. I want to make eye contact with the pretty girl im dancing next to, with the eyeliner. I want what my friends want, I want it for myself like it's mine. I want them to want ME, I want them to see me wanting the things they are wanting. I want validation, I want congratulations, I want acceptance. I want to lock myself in a room and never come out. I want to never see anyone again. I want the weight of being perceived to be lifted off my shoulders, I wanted to be redeemed. I want mercy – I am embarrassed to want mercy. I want to disappear into the water, I want to look over the edge (but not too far.) I WANT TO WANT SOMETHING! with all my might. I want to do cocaine and paint all night, tripping on my own self-importance. I want to die on the battlefield as a guerrilla fighting for what I believe in. I want to crawl into a hole and never see the light of day again. I want to know, and believe...

yo la tengo will never feel like anything more than silently laying next to Amy in her bed in bed-stuy, listening to Ira Kaplan croon as we drifted off to sleep, together,

031624 (a bag of moldy jerky)

I ubered back to my house from Julian's because the backs of my heels were raw, my socks were too thin for my cowboy boots. my cowboy boots - thrifted from Calistoga, an antique store where I bought them for probably too much, but they were worn in. worn here and there, from wine tastings to DJ gigs, today paired with a kaftan from Meena Bazaar and a dress I had made in Delhi from my dadi's old kurti. Kurti... not sure where to go from there.

my grandma used to rub my head while I lay next to her in bed. these days, I remember her so fondly. if I think about her, I start to cry, but in a peaceful and healthy way, because with her passing I made peace with the natural cycle of life and death. what with the unnatural then? that will continue to torment me, likely till the day I die.

"is 26 too young to write a memoir?" I asked Jason the other day. he said yes, but I think he's wrong – at least it's not too early to start working on one. perhaps e-worm is a sort of living memoir - when I am gone, people will dig up the bones of the internet to find the musings of an offbeat group too smart for their own good.

in Miami, I was in awe of the natural world: ziploc jellyfish floated on top of the bay, manatees swam slowly and decisively underfoot, unperturbed even by Claudia's offer of running water from the hose. a baby alligator sat on the palm of my hand, stable feet, his warm reptilian belly inflating methodically, soft and supple against my skin. I held a turtle against his will, by the shell – his feet were unstable, stubbornly walking in the humid air. Federica's scrappy dog (rusty) jumped in the pool (twice) to save what he thought (incorrectly) was a drowning claudia. absorbing the rays, an iguana let me get so close to him with my iPhone camera before he jumped dramatically into the channel, like an arcing scurry. he swam off into the distance, treading like a puppy. Juana is a bengal cat that I believe was smuggled to this large white house on the water – she resists being pet and has a trauma response to any sudden movements, but one beautiful morning she let me snuggle up next to her on the bed, watching the ocean past the balcony, her pensive, me hungover. Tommy is the other cat, he is chubby and soft, like a marshmallow, and he drinks water from the faucet, flicking most of it onto the parts of his face that are not his mouth. we saw approximately zero pythons.

at bar la Trova, Catherine got a sudden burst of energy (atypical) and we spent 20 minutes dancing as if we were the only ones in the room. in fact, we weren't, and as Catherine grabbed confetti from the reserved table next to us (leftover from the dancers, who performed once an hour accompanied by a confetti cannon) to sprinkle over us as we danced, the group next to us (a couple and a third wheel) began to do the same. in this atmosphere of conviviality, we shook our hips and swayed, and I was reminded of the pure joy of female friendship.

on the flight back from Miami, Caroline polachek rocked my world. I listened to her 2023 album for the first time, after the algorithm recommended her Tiny Desk concert to my work Youtube account, which I happened to be logged into. impressed and in awe of her raw talent, I made everyone watch it on the big screen. I downloaded the album to my Spotify to listen to on the plane, and wept. welcome to my island will forever remind me of what it felt like to sit in claudia's backyard in the sun, which is really just a private beach, watching the palm trees wave in the balmy wind. florida... I want to turn into you?