If We Were Friends....

The lace dress I bought, how I stay off my phone these days and other things I'd want to tell you about

I’m going to try to write this while the termite inspector is here. I wasn’t sure how he would do the inspection but it’s by…tapping the walls. Which is so dark. He’s either tapping and listening to for the sound of them running away or tapping and listening to how HOLLOW the wood is from termite damage. I’m comforted by what Nico once told me: small houses collapse slowly.

I’m checking out my two tiny rentals to see if it is smart or not smart to try to buy them from my landlord. I’ve rented the front house for 21 years (my studio) and all 21 years I fantasized about what if this was all mine and I could remodel it? And then I did remodel the back house, without a ton of landlord permission (Room 321 style) and now that the book I wrote in the studio has panned out, these dreamy thoughts could be a reality. Now he’s in the attic. Maybe by the time I’m done writing this post the inspection will be done and I can tell you the results.

First up, urgent news, bigger than fascism: I ordered this on Etsy last night for $39. My plan is to take out the lining both on the top and in the skirt so it’s just sheer lavender lace.

$39 + Hillhurst Cleaners tailoring fee

I think with just naked skin under (slightly visible nipples through the lace/nude panties) it will look very modern and people (not you guys) will think it’s Alessandro Gucci or Valentino.

5,460 Euros.

It might not work out! But oh the thrill of trying! I’ll model the the results for you in a later post. I stayed up too late last night in an Etsy frenzy, also high from this tik tok chocolate mousse my child made that is just hot coconut milk and chocolate chips (Lily’s, obv) – blended and chilled. The termite inspector just made a gasping noise. It could also be fine to let go of this place I’ve been in for 21 years and move somewhere nicer with a bathtub I can fully submerge my knees in. I have trouble letting go of certain thing and other things I have trouble holding on to.

I had my birthday on Feb 15. It was great; I had 10 women over and we sat around that big wooden table I had just dragged up here. I told everyone “no gifts” but bring a cloth napkin. I don’t have enough cloth napkins and I wanted all these different colored ones to remind me of my friends for the rest of my days.

The above are from Ali Liebegott, Isabelle Albuquerque and Caterina Scorsone. Everyone was horrified that they had to use their own napkin at brunch, dirtying their gift. Louise Bonnet made a beautiful pear almond cake. We laid on the Biomat and smelled perfumes and talked and talked and talked and now I am 51, that’s how you turn it.

I’m gradually starting to work again (following a long period of collapse, then shifting my priorities around so my body is leading the way, not something I’m forcing to come with me). To work I need to have more control over my phone; I never have the urge to look at it when I’m meditating or exercising but BOY do I want to suddenly check everything when I’m writing. I’ve used different things over the years but right now I’m into this little grey chunk called Brick. It’s like a magnet or something (it’s not a magnet) that you tap your phone against and it disables the apps you don’t want access to, which for me is Instagram and Substack. I don’t know these Brick people and wish it was cheaper (I think it’s 50 bucks) because my child says you can make it for pennies but I’m never going to do that. You can see below the various amounts of time my phone was bricked for. Sometimes I sort of forget about the Brick and I’m on IG too much and my whole life gets worse but then I remember and brick it. Sometimes I’ll purposely not Brick it to be self-destructive in a fun way, like drinking or staying up too late. That’s fine. I just don’t like the usage to get normalized.

The other thing I’ve realized really helps me stay off my phone is a book. Any book I can get engrossed in. Because I mostly look at my phone to tune the fuck out and that’s fair, I need to, but reading is another time-tested way I can do that (and it’s also addictive.) When I’m not into a book I look at my phone more; it’s just a fact. So with that in mind I started ordering books for their page-turner quality and length (God of The Woods, for example) (which was kind of fun — to have to buy a new hardcover paperback murder mystery.) Now I’m finally reading Kindred and Say Everything, Ione Skye’s forthcoming memoir is next. I have other things I’m reading more for a reason, slowly (The Pregnant Virgin, An Everlasting Meal) or that I dip in and out of for a hit of a sensibility (Sex Goblin, Catching the Big Fish.) But the meaty novel is crucial for a balanced life. I realize this isn’t exactly a newsflash, but for me life is a process of constantly forgetting and remembering how to care for myself and each time I remember some basic thing it’s a revelation.

I’m going to make myself stop here (because it turns out longer isn’t better in Substack) but in closing: the termite inspector did not have great news though honestly it went in one ear and out the other (it’s hard for me to follow a storyline that’s not a romance or somehow taboo. Although I guess it’s a gripping story for the termites themselves, whose many lives hang in the brink.)

Good luck out there and don’t forget we’re boycotting the corporate economy today.

PS for Men: one of you should start an All Fours Group Chat just for guys. After Hugh Jackman posted on IG about the book (earlier this week) a few hundred men DMed me to say they had also read and enjoyed it. I know the idea of a men’s group can be kind of icky but maybe that’s something to get over, the way we are getting over the idea that menopause is icky. If nothing else, it would be an experience (one I’d be curious to hear about it unless it’s private.)