Emchap's Shit from the Internet 05/29/19 🍠
First off: for those of you who live in LA, come see Noon to Midnight this weekend; I will be performing in the main space at noon along with 999 of my closest friends. Also there will be other things that look good! #ad
I spent the last day of my Memorial Day weekend noodling around Highland Park, which is one of those neighborhoods that I go to once every six months, think "oh man, this is nice, I should come here more often", and then completely ignore for another six months. (I spent the first day of the weekend painting my bathroom; it was a range of activities.)
While I was killing time in the coffee shop near my new therapist's office, I plowed through How to Not Always Be Working, a workbook that shares a spiritual and thematic tie with How to Do Nothing (and its companion book, which I am excited to read soon). It's in that whole category of books that are really targeted at creative workers (which I am not), which are read by tech workers (which I am), and which I feel somewhat like a fraud for reading (which, whatever, we're living in pre-war Germany, who cares).
I've been struggling recently with reconciling my dislike of Woo Shit (reiki is not real, astrology is not real, the word "honoring" makes my skin crawl) with the fact that acknowledging my feelings is probably ultimately healthy (self-reflection is useful regardless of the lens, lavender smells good, the concept of honoring one's own internal reality rather than just constantly redirecting away from the horrifying concept that one is a human with desires and needs is ultimately healthy if I don't want to spend the next five years miserable). It's a weird line to walk in California specifically, for the reasons you might imagine.
So, as a result, I ignored probably 20% of the book. White women talking about tinctures are just never going to be my cup of tea. (Heh.) But, the other 80% hit me in a strong right-place, right-time sort of way. There's a lot in there about separating the concepts of work and job and purpose, and a lot about really sitting with what rituals make you feel whole, and a fair amount about turning your fucking phone off, which I've been trying to do more.
The therapist I saw afterwards was a new one, and pointed out that I have a bad habit of making jokes when I admit to feeling anything other than in control. I was telling this to a friend last night, and he said something along the lines of "well... yeah" because other people are uncomfortable mirrors, and then I told him to fuck off rather than saying that it had been disconcerting to have someone catch me at it, which is of course just a sign that the therapist was right. Being known in any honest way is uncomfortable.
I'm off to tech rehearsal for the piece tonight. I am excited about what is to come, and I am excited about doing my new bedtime stretching routine when I come home, and I am excited about eating chickpea salad for lunch tomorrow on bread I made myself.
Shit to read
A study in data collection flaws.
This is essentially what my thesis was going to be on before I became a case study.
"Pick up your shit from my house or I'm giving it to Goodwill" is apparently an older Mood than we thought.
I loved this look at Fleabag and the fourth wall. (And that scene is incredibly hot.) It ties well with this Anne Helen Peterson piece on love and death and romantic wounds. AHP's Toast piece is worth reading.
This—on engagement and death—is great.
We've all read Tiny Beautiful Things' namesake Dear Sugar column, but it's worth reading again, I think. A man attempting to hurt my feelings once told me that I think I'm Dear Sugar and I'm not, and I think about that not infrequently.
Fuck I'm so excited for Always Be My Maybe.
Vaccinate your kids, you fucks. Jesus.
Late airport people are living in prisons of their own design.
Shit to eat
Strain a can of chickpeas. Save the liquid to make meringue with.
Dump the chickpeas into a bowl. Add some mayo, paprika, salt, spice blend of your choosing (I went with Sunny Paris), and the juice from a lemon wedge.
Stir everything up, and then immersion blend it enough that the majority of the chickpeas are broken up. If you don't do this part, chickpeas will fall on you.
Toast some bread. Put the chickpea mash on it. Enjoy a wholesome lunch.
Shit to listen to
Shit to buy
A can of chickpeas. Just to have.