shut up and listen to my thoughts, i know you want to.

Hiii. It’s been so long since I’ve written, an entire summer which flowed over me with ease somehow like water coming from the shower head and hitting the floor of the bathtub seconds later. I became intimidated and embarrassed about this blog slightly, what with the return of alt-lit and a sudden awareness a myriad of independently published internet writers doing the same thing i’m doing. i’ve always been serious about writing, but i felt scared of taking what’s mine.. of putting my things out there and growing my work like i had been doing.

the languor laziness humidity of summer also got to me. i abandoned this blog a little because my daily routine changed. i went from working a 9-5 to working as a server in my neighborhood at night. there were no more evening walks in the park after getting off work, cooking 3 course dinner for myself in my small bricked apartment over the course of five hours, blogging while my beets and shiitake mushrooms roasted. going an entire week without speaking to someone who wasn’t my student or my roommate. i was back in the throes of social life! my job as a waitress server was to entertain, and so i felt myself get tangled in the petty dailyness of life. i expended a lot of energy with other people, for the first time since ***** really. i think this is a common experience. i felt, if I wasn’t hanging out, then what was i doing? because circumstances had gifted us all a little time to spend time with each other. a little gasp. (internet heads refer to it as a ??vibe shift??) i became a regular at the bar next door to my restaurant, and all the bartenders knew me and my friends. i’d enter the perfumed pink-lit narrow room, a mulleted twenty nine year old man polishing a wineglass would say, hi emilie, your usual this evening?

and i would laugh and giggle and say, “what’s my usual? hahahaha”. because i wanted to hear him repeat it to me.

so i relaxed and slipped into the comforts of daily life, of neighborhood living. it was a great letting go. a grand effort of relinquishing control, and just letting life happen to me. being young, that is to say having lived a short life so far, very little so far, i had never felt quite so much that individual days didn’t matter to me. another day, another dollar. nothing changed from the day to day. except the little games i played with myself in my head, my wild fantasies. but when i wasn’t at work or partying, i was just simply relaxing. i went through a phase where i would just spend three hours walking either north or south of my apartment along the bike path. one and one half hours there. one and one half hours back. go home, drink water, change clothes. walk five minutes to work.

but my life is mutating all the same… i’m moving lol. although i felt maybe the most comfortable and settled in my routine since i was in college, i’ve disrupted it. because i still crave discomfort and change. i do think it’s a symptom of the 2020s syndrome… neoliberal late capitalist gen z end of history brainworm type thing? like i feel if I’m suffering from disruption i’ve brought upon myself, i’m in control, i saw it coming, it’s a kind of monitored suffering that pushes me to become, who i need to be or something. a reaction to instability. ew ew ew i hate when i talk about politics. its badddd. it’s not bad, it’s cliche and boring and predictable. i am a mirror, if you really want to know what i think, read the news.

at any rate, i am looking forward to leaving the midwest and being an ego sexy writer or just a normal girl in the big city.

right now, i am in the minneapolis airport, at ~tex-mexican airport bar drinking a spicy margarita (which isn’t spicy), my bartender is a russian man who asked me if i want the señora burrito. my complaint is it is too bright in here, and i wish it was darker. this summer i went to an airport bar in houston, and it was so dim i felt at home. everything here looks like it’s made of plastic. not an original observation, but i feel as though i’m in the Disneyworld version of mexico. why? there is no why. however, it does feel like texas mexico genuinely because there are two (2) white men seated at the bar wearing cowboy hats.

i keep looking at my clock on my laptop and thinking that i’ve missed my flight. but then remember viscerally i’m in central time.

i read leave society, and i won’t comment on it aside from to say it’s made me think about my relationship with substances again. i wish i didn’t want to eat chips and salsa and drink a margarita in the airport bar right now, because i know it’s bad to eat processed food and consume alcohol. it makes me bloated and irritable. But for some reason i can’t resist things that are bad for me right now. i am compelled to indulge, even though i’m broke and chubby.. tao lin grant me the strength to resist immediate gratification. i have only used nicotine products on the weekends for a month or so now. i lost my juul in bushwick in may, and i haven’t bought a new one. i haven’t bought a pack of cigarettes for a month. i’ve spent 20$ on weed in the past 6 months. i haven’t touched ketamine since last november (though i’m trying to change that). i haven’t done poppers since fourth of july. i haven’t taken cocaine since January when i got in a car accident then spent 45$ on cocaine with my high school friend and his gf and he tried to enter my bed in the middle of the night. when i last took adderall i was bitchpilled at a bar immediately below the apartment i am moving into in ten days. i didn’t sleep and wrote something evil in my diary. i plan on using adderall again very soon, to be honest. But i am on a recovery arc. I stopped biting my nails, and i write a lot. That’s how i measure my recovery.

Okayyy okay. A blog post in the bag. I’m dabbling in oversharing, and what’s wrong with that? it’s on brand. i love you i love you forever forever blog reader it’s me and you, connecting through the screen.