what do you like to read on the toilet?

we got a new cat. which means we now have four cats, which means “something something gay old normie moms something something grey gardens something.” her name is CARROTS and she’s four years old and was the friendliest kitty at the SPCA, a place we ended up because we have no impulse control. the truth is this: in my dream life i would live in enya’s castle with 100 feral cats, stinking of catnip and old soup, oblivious to crime and popular memes and the news.

my crohn’s disease is active at the moment, which means i am reading a lot of books. ON THE TOILET. my absolute favorite thing. reading in the bathroom is great because it’s usually dark and cool plus no one bothers you, probably due to the fear that you’ll throw your poop at them like a monkey if they do. (an anecdote: once i was at the zoo during summer camp and an elephant started flinging its shit at all of us and while the other kids screamed and ran i just STOOD THERE like a FUCKING ASSHOLE just, what, waiting for some to hit me in the face? i was paralyzed in awe, just standing there watching that huge trunk wind up and hurl brick-sized turds at a bunch of shrieking children. i somehow managed to not get hit, but then immediately planted both feet into a giant wet poop and threw my shoes away in a zoo trash can, which my mother reminded me was not a luxury people like us could afford approximately 92 times a day for the next five fucking years.)

i love a short story on the can. that’s my number one goal with all of my work, to craft a piece of writing that a person can complete in a single trip to a public restroom. to me there is no higher compliment than “dude, i finished your whole book while i had the stomach flu.” here’s a list of story collections i’ve recently read and loved, and one i’m about to, probably while in our downstairs bathroom:
1 friday black by nana kwame adjei-brenyah “a piercingly raw debut story collection from a young writer with an explosive voice; a treacherously surreal, and, at times, heartbreakingly satirical look at what it’s like to be young and black in america.”
2 lot by bryan washington “in the city of Houston - a sprawling, diverse microcosm of america - the son of a black mother and a latino father is coming of age. he's working at his family's restaurant, weathering his brother's blows, resenting his older sister's absence. and discovering he likes boys.”
3 you think it i’ll say it by curtis sittenfeld “no one does a better job of writing about the high and low points of contemporary relationships than curtis sittenfeld. her characters are petty, flawed, tender, funny, and completely believable.”
4 heads of the colored people by nafissa thompson-spires “vivid, fast, funny, way-smart, and verbally inventive, these stories create a compelling surface tension made of equal parts skepticism towards human nature and intense fondness of it.”
5 mouthful of birds by samanta schweblin “schweblin's stories have the feel of a sleepless night, where every shadow and bump in the dark take on huge implications, leaving your pulse racing, and the line between the real and the strange blurs.”
6 false bingo by jac jemc “in jac jemc’s dislocating second story collection, false bingo, we watch as sinister forces—some supernatural, some of this earth, some real and some not—work their ways into the mundanity of everyday life.”
7 black light by kimberly king parsons “taking us from hot texas highways to cold family kitchens, from the freedom of pay-by-the-hour motels to the claustrophobia of private school dorms, these stories erupt off the page with a primal howl—sharp-voiced, acerbic, and wise.”

i don’t get enough vitamins and/or minerals. do any of us? would you really even feel a difference if you did? i try, i really do, what with all the packets of instagram vitamins and half-empty bottles of kombucha crowding my refrigerator shelves, but even if you made “getting enough magnesium” your full time job could you actually do it? it doesn’t feel possible.

and also chewing is exhausting! i feel like that’s the kind of thing you are not supposed to admit to people, that grinding up a bunch of dry-ass kale between your teeth literally makes you want to lie down, but alas here we are. chewing is boring, especially when it’s like three cups of undressed arugula. but i need potassium so now i am a health smoothie person and you know what? it’s fine. i don’t do anything disgusting like carry them around in a fancy container so people can know i’m full of vitamin B6, but i do drink it directly from the nutribullet cup while standing over the sink so i can wash it right away because we only use environmentally-friendly dish soap which means our dishes are never actually clean!

2 cups of baby spinach
1 cup cold water
a peach (they’re in season rn and so good)
a banana
frozen mango chunks +/- avocado chunks
blend the spinach with the water, add the peach and banana and blend that, then your frozen bits and blend those in too. sometimes i swap in some frozen dark berries or pineapple if we have them, or grate in some fresh ginger if i’m feeling spicy. but not much more effort than that i mean it’s fucking juice. i’m not even sure this is useful but i truly couldn’t find enough green smoothie recipes that didn’t end up tasting like lawnmower runoff so i figured out my own version that doesn’t make me want to keel over or vomit.

power came back on sunday and THANK STARZ FOR THAT. i feel like i only know one other person in real life who watches that show and i’m sorry if you don’t like it but also what the fuck is your problem? it’s all sex and violence and money, which are all things i wish i was capable of doing and/or having. not to mention: beautiful outfits! this is how you know i’m a dumb person, because i will literally watch anything where people are wearing tailored suits. any ridiculous piece of shit: if there’s a bespoke blazer onscreen i’m in.

also back? the affair, which maybe i should have quit a couple seasons ago but i somehow just can’t, even though most of the characters i cared about are either gone or dead. i’m basically only watching it now because helen’s look is the perfect late 40s mood board, and because i’m secretly hoping that noah gets murdered by one of his kids.

it’s the us open, and contrary to what my musculature might lead you to believe, i fucking love watching sports? not in a “cool girl” way, more like an “i never went outside as a child and also i love the emotional melodrama of a closely contested game.” there is an opportunity to cry real tears during almost every televised sport. “oh this running back is making his triumphant return after a season-ending knee injury? pass me the kleenex!” i mostly just like the company of live people doing shit in real time on the tv while i’m trying to work, and i can no longer watch the news, so this week my office pal is serena’s short catsuit. HUBBA.

a lil’ playlist of songs i’m into right meow:
mal herido luis vargas
highwomen the highwomen
big sky orville peck
perfume jonah yano
show me that you love common + jill scott
shady grove yola
hot girl bummer blackbear
someday julia jacklin (this is a strokes cover, and it is very good)

until next time, unless these cats unionize and take me down!!