End of January REPORT
First is the worst
It’s me, hi.
Sorry I’ve been quiet; I promise I’m not ghosting you.
The last few weeks the little light behind my eyes died. A shadow of my former self, I haunted the infinite maze of cold, gray city streets with chagrin. I shivered in my black peacoat and and burnt my tongue on coffee that tasted like cigarettes.
Ah yes, the January blues. I’ll spare you the details (I’m being melodramatic), but the infinite well of words from which I typically draw upon ran dry. It’s rare, but it does happen.
But, after an eleven-hour exhaustion-induced coma, I’m back baby. Resilience is my middle name. In the spirit of going easy on myself (it's too early to ditch my resolutions, right?) I wrote another R.E.P.O.R.T.
As a reminder for the class, the initialism stands for Reading, Eating, Playing, Obsessing over, Recommending and Treating.
The Snow Day Report I published in January got decent reception (my mom, best friend, and boyfriend read it) and I had a lot of fun writing it. Albeit a tad narcissistic, I find that taking an interest in myself is not only easy to do but reaps several emotional rewards. Shocking, right?
(Therapists everywhere HATE her for this secret!)
I could go on, but I’m starting to ramble. I should probably stop harping on this before I embarrass myself, but perhaps that ship sailed four newsletters ago. Anyway, here is my end of January REPORT:
READING - Rouge by Mona Awad
Mona Awad has a gift for exposing femininity’s animalistic core. This truth is so often obfuscated by pretty bows and love stories, that even a student of feminist literature such as me often forgets the sick, sick condition of being a woman in this post-capitalist hellscape.
Her mother has died, but Belle remains perpetually preoccupied with the fountain of youth — skincare. Eventually even retinol, SPF, and whatever the hell else is involved in that sort of psychosis can’t shield Belle from the mysterious nature of her mother’s demise and the broken mirrors she left in her wake. Through jagged reflections, tantalizing skincare secrets, deception, and demons, Belle flirts with the truth behind the mirror.
I am only about two third’s the way through this mesmerizing story, but am already addicted to the Grimms Brothers-esqe fairytale Belle has found herself entangled in. The fantastical elements Awad relies upon in her blockbuster book Bunny are not lacking in the least in Rouge. And I’m immensely enjoying it.
EATING - Peter Pan Donuts in Greenpoint
When I was training for the NYC Marathon, I had a little tradition called Friday Morning Donut (I know, I could have gotten more creative with the name).
Friday Morning Donut was my reward for five days of five AM runs before work, and preparation for a long long run on Sunday. Listen, burning over 600 active calories a day calls for some extra carbs.
I’ve slowed down a bit due to a marathon-related injury and until Friday, I hadn’t made my way back to the donut lover’s Mecca known as Peter Pan since early November. I am going to cautiously try out a run this weekend (pray for my right leg, generally) so I figured a sugary fried pastry would help me get back into the swing of things. Logic.
Peter Pan is a Polish-run, cash only, old fashion institution. I usually go for a sour-cream donut, but had an apple fritter this time and devoured it just the same. This donut shop is more than worth a trip out to Greenpoint (good luck with the G Train), and your breakfast will cost less than your subway fair.
PLAYING - Shani’s Drink and Draw at Book Bar in the East Village
Even when you’re feeling down and out, drawing, drinking and being idiots with two old friends is cause for report.
Shani, an Israeli artist who recently moved from Berlin, is a brilliant teacher and comedian, and creates fascinating depictions of human bodies with animal heads for a living (see below.)
In a culture of dinner and drinks, I’m a sucker for an activity-based hang and deeply enjoy figure drawing. Unlike the figure drawing sessions at Happy Medium (an art cafe in Two Bridges) the models are fully clothed. If you’re afraid of naked people, that’s great. Personally, I love shading in the delicate contours of the naked form but was highly amused and challenged by the volunteer-based models on stage.
This is the perfect class for beginners and is full of giggles.
OBSESSING OVER - Feed Me by Emily
This is one of the OG Substacks I subscribed to. Emily, a former writer for the Cut, is smart and hilarious as is her content, and I find myself really looking forward to her newsletters. Since I quit traditional social media, she’s been really the only person I follow I’d consider to be an influencer -- in that she has influenced me to try products, trends, and restaurants and to follow her friends on Substack.
If you are attempting to delve into the Substack community, I highly recommend subscribing. I’ll note that this one is probably for the girls and the gays (unless there any straight men out there who are interested in beauty startups and being hot on the internet.)
RECOMMENDING - The Ezra Klein Show’s episode on How to Discover Your Own Taste
Does it bother anyone else that you can go to a “local” coffee shop in cities like Berlin, Los Angeles, New York, Mexico City, and Tokyo and that they all look the SAME? Subway tiles, succulents, snotty baristas clad in beanies, cheap mid-century furniture....
Kyle Chayka elaborated on this astute observation on a January episode of the Ezra Klein Show. Together he and Klein discussed what exactly the globalization/instagramification of taste means and how to decide for yourself if you like it. I love thinking about brainless things in a philosophical and pretentious way. No, seriously.
Pushing the point further, the show delineates and debates how to understand what you like. A noble pursuit, indeed.
TREATING - Not nosebleed seats for Madam Butterfly at the Met Opera
I think popular culture (myself included) recognizes the Puccini piece de resistance from its reference in the latest season of White Lotus. Always a tastemaker, my trendsetting friend Adrienne (shoutout) has seen Madam Butterfly many times, before it was cool. I am eternally grateful she persuaded me to join her and some friends to see the show, because it was pure, heartbreaking, hilarious, artful magic.
No gays (or Jennifer Coolidges) were harmed in the attendance of this opera.
‘Till next week.