I bought fermented beans at the grocery store because they have vitamins that are supposedly essential. That’s redundant. Vitamin shares its root with the word vital. Saying essential vitamins is like saying with au jus. With with juice. You didn’t think this was going to be a grammar lesson, did you.
Someone trapped in my phone told me that eating these fermented beans would help clarify my skin, improve digestion, diversify my gut bacteria not unlike a portfolio, and improve cognitive function. But that’s the last thing I need. My brain is functioning so much right now, I need it to slow down. I would love a lobotomy but nobody will take my insurance.
Another person trapped in my phone told me to stop worrying, that what is meant for me will find me. This is amazing advice for an anxious person and horrible advice for someone avoiding a stalker. Where is the balance between going out and carpaying the diem and relaxing into the knowledge that whatever will be, will be? If we text first, we are overeager. If we don’t text first, we are being avoidant. Women can make the first move. But how many moves must we make before being moved upon? Is there a guidebook for striking the perfect balance between leaning in and out? Is it standing up? I have horrible posture. I digress.
I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. I don’t feel funny, I don’t feel “hot, in a Brooklyn way” as described by a passing man I hope to find and one day marry. At the open mic on Tuesday a guy who isn’t Jewish made a fucked up Holocaust joke. And you might be thinking, aren’t all Holocaust jokes fucked up? But the answer is no, if I make one and it’s really funny then it’s ok. While this man joked about Nazis being “badass” by killing Jews by hand vs. with passive biological warfare like the pilgrims did with their genocide, I thought to myself- how did I get here? On a Tuesday night, waiting to tell 3.5 minutes of jokes among a crowd of people that range from hot guy to cool girl to quiet girl to Nazi sympathizer. Exploring the world of standup comedy can be very isolating and draining. Some nights rock and some nights roll.
The point of the whole fermented bean anecdote back there is that I’m finding myself constantly looking to other people for advice and paths forward and recommendations. I’m trying to find my way in an industry that famously has no set paths. Unless you are an Apatow. It’s never ending and it’s exhausting. I don’t need the probiotics in the beans. I have yogurt and kimchi in my fridge. I don’t need the essential vitamins. I had a packet of Welch's fruit snacks last week. And I certainly don’t need enhanced cognition. I learned in college that all I know is that I know nothing. There’s nowhere to go from there. All the fermented beans in the world won’t fill a hole in your heart.
Oh, that’s what this is about. Longing. This is a whole thing about longing, loneliness, craving romance etc. Is that making me sad? But being single is great, there’s a whole world out there to explore. But wait- my middle school crush is in London with his hot girlfriend and suddenly this is a personal attack. I’ve been in love before and I know it will happen again, but I’m severely impatient. Either because of my irritability or because I’m a Taurus.
In the vein of this newsletter being completely all over the place, and in the hopes that most of you aren’t still reading, here goes. Saturday night I found myself sitting down in a bike lane in the fictional town of East Williamsburg. You see, I was in the backyard of a cocktail bar with 120 of my closest friends. I didn’t want to drink that night because I had to be up early the next day for a kickboxing class so I decided to hit my friend’s pen, once. Reader, note that what began as an attempt to have a chill early night led to a full scale panic attack. My heart was racing, my throat felt like it was closing, and I needed to leave immediately. As I hastily exited the bar, Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t stop the feeling” was wafting through the speakers. I again thought to myself, how did I get here? My friend brought me a cup of water and sat with me, in the bike lane, until I calmed down. The cup came with me into the Uber. I have only ever stolen things by accident.
So, here we are, at the unnatural conclusion of a serious of unfortunate paragraphs. I hope you are feeling a little more grounded than I am. And I hope you know that if you resonate with any of this, there are plenty of medicines and Marisa Tomei movies to help you through it. And if you get the chance to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.
The best thing I ate this week:
Were my night tacos. Night tacos are like any other taco, but they happen late at night. The truck across from my apartment has incredible tacos. Savory pork, sweet pineapple, tangy salsa verde, two corn tortillas for reinforcement. One time I got a quesadilla there and it was bad. But that’s ok. You can’t be good at everything. Unless you are the kid from Up.