Her Chronicle and Other Parties
2019
Dated someone who I knew I was going to break up with. Was young enough to ignore that. Walked to downtown to see new year’s fireworks with friends, who I have never seen New Year’s fireworks with since. The last year in my life celebrating new year with unchecked excitement.
2020
Talked to Siri too much during lockdown, got my first covid shot with Everlyn in Culver City. Met Z in the fall, learned to smoke, did acid and a bunch of others, while on it, I wrote: “I felt a kind of nervousness when he entered my life — like how I cleaned up the whole house while still can’t find a place for him to sit.”
2021
Visited Oakland for Mimi Pond’s Overeasy. Graduated in a white dress. Smoking with George by Lake Michigan on my birthday, while telling him about the friend, who passed away a week before. Fell in love with New York summer, on Fifth Ave I saw a woman wearing the Paris Review’s green tote, with her husband and a German Shepherd. I wanted to be her without the dog part. Because I can’t bear their death, or walking them twice a day.
2022
The year I came home to see how foreign it had become. Funny weather. Saw my literary magazines from high school stacked under dad’s ash tray. Past obsession, now pieces of paper. Made a life decision I still am not sure about to this day. V drove me to the airport before I left the States. Farewell to all that. The last time our lives were as they were.
The year I thought I had the chance to start it all over, and got beaten down again.
2023
Clocked in and out of therapist room like it’s my second job. My mom wouldn’t like that. Did the last thing I knew how to do to feel alive. Someone taught me staying alive means betting on the chance of possible encounters that make it worth it, and you almost always win. Watched fleabag again. Drinking soda alone in a soho diner on the 25th birthday, the bartender got me a slice of cheesecake with candle. Thank you, Adam.
Went to Frida’s blue house, saw her deathbed and her dresses. She died in a Tehuana dress.
2024
Learned some Finnish during a nordic stint. Koti means home, tarina means story. Many nuns bantered wildly in the bar. Parks got busy around 11 pm and alcohol curfew started 8 pm. Made mistakes, friends, and a lover. My mind got changed a few times.
Smelled sulfur near craters. Plants in desert have long winding roots so they can drink (*gurgling*). Hawaii feels like a great place for not having a job. The year I came to terms with not having a proper job.
