play it for laughs, babe
bibliomancy forecast for the week of june 30
temperance, and Tatiana Ryckman’s The Ancestry of Objects
the aleatory
Once, I was in a hotel room in Toronto chainsmoking and taking a really long time to do my makeup. I had nowhere to go because the guy I was kind of, sort of seeing (frankly, the only way I saw anyone) had not called me. I was listening to This Year’s Model and drinking instant decaf coffee. Once or twice an hour I snuck out to the pay phone in the hotel bar to call his phone number—to do what, I don’t know exactly. Spy on him? Trick him into answering an unknown Toronto number? Frighten him, even?
Meanwhile, I was watching Gimme Shelter on the hotel TV, drinking more instant decaf, smoking more Parliament Lights (I know, that’s how long ago it was) and reapplying my Lancome Juicy Tubes lipgloss, because I was leaving kissed white cigarette butts in the ashtray over and over again.
“Hallucination (Sparkle)” is such a great lipstick color, by the way.
You might be tempted to consider this scene of annoyance and abandon (both kinds) a “sad” “moment” in my “life.” But I certainly didn’t.
The collage of those things—longing, instant decaf coffee, Hell’s Angels beating someone with a pipe, Elvis Costello, hotel phone, inconvenience—was sublime. I was having an absolute ball. It was the first time I realized that happiness could come in costume as a bunch of annoyances situated in a theatrical context, and that the primary determinant of theatrical context is a willingness to chew the scenery.
In other words: You can always play it for laughs.
Sure, some people will say that I’m just encouraging you to “aestheticize pain,” and vulnerability is much more appealing. But actually, vulnerability hounds aestheticize their pain, too—they just have bad taste.
the forecast
Don’t get too too.
writing prompt
Wherever happens to be happening, perform the available emotion like Norma Desmond. (“We didn’t need words, we had faces-uh.”)
a chune
“This Year’s Girl” by Elvis Costello & the Attractions
Well, I should have mentioned, Elvis Costello was a crucial part of my ability to enjoy the Toronto hotel disappointment bermuda triangle. In fact, his soundtrack was the unifying presence that turned my collage into a performance. Teenagers give bravura aesthetic pain performances, as if they had studied at some conservatory de terrible gamin. Why does it stop?
credits: small spells tarot deck by Rachel Howe
The Ancestry of Objects by Tatiana Ryckman
This Year’s Model by Elvis Costello & the Attractions
Dear diary, I am newly repulsed/fascinated by the sudden wave of people who fall into some kind of AI-induced psychosis. One day, they’re using ChatGPT to help organize a work project, and six weeks later they’re crawling on the floor, convinced that they have birthed a new god in their computer. That, or it’s their boyfriend. Nice try! As if there’s anything impressive about falling in love with something that sycophantically tells you everything you think is perfect. As if true love is having someone agree with you all the time. Good luck unifying yr opposites, nerds. If you want to impress this tuff desert chicken, go fall in love with a rock. Way more impressive. Impossible to make fun of. XS
falling in love w a rock is the future