Friday, March 1, 2024
My stomach hurts. It’s tight and constricted yet at the same time it feels like I have to poop. I’ve been having stomach pains pretty much every day lately, especially as nighttime approaches, but I’m trying this new thing where I just allow the shitty feeling in my gut to exist. I’m going through this process of learning how not to wish my… discomfort… away. To just feel it and allow it to be there. That’s what my therapist says will help me in the long term. To me, it feels fucking horrible. Like I’m being lit on fire. She says that means it’s working.
I ordered a ginger lemon tea in an attempt to self-soothe and sat down at the bar. I’m at Canyon Coffee in Echo Park. I call it The Center of the Universe, half jokingly, half critically. Being here equally inspires me and makes me hate myself. A watering hole for creatives, rising internet personalities, and people exploring gender identity in all directions. When I’m here, I feel like I’m a somebody among somebodies, or on my less cynical days, a nobody among nobodies. Some might call it an East Side mecca. Where the dreamers and the doers come to see and be seen.
A woman just walked by me with a blunt bob, thin black sunnies, a tightly tied navy blue trench coat, and a comically stiff canvas tote bag. She looked impressive but painfully on trend. I feel like an asshole, but I genuinely question her self-confidence. Are her sartorial choices a form of freedom, stemming from a place of joy, play and self-acceptance? Or is she deeply insecure, placing much of her value on the impact of her outward appearance? Simply trying to keep up with the Joneses? What would she look like if she lived in, say, Minnesota?
When I stood in line, I observed the barista. A thin, young lad—around 24 maybe—who looks like he’s one happy accident away from being discovered for a major Hollywood role that he didn’t even ask for. Perhaps a hispanic Danny in the next-gen rendition of Grease. His middle-parted hair is long and unwashed. He wears a navy zip-up hoodie and high-waisted jeans.
As I waited to order I wondered if maybe he was tired from standing and soullessly taking orders or if, simply because this is LA, he was high on marijuana. I ask because with each transaction his face held a vacant stare of disassociation. He asked all patrons including me “What can I get you?” without ever actually looking any one of us in the eye. Instead he looked down at his hand or up and to the right. I wonder if something was heavy on his mind or if maybe he had absolutely no thoughts at all.
The decor in this place is minimal. Mostly wood tones, shades of beige. 70s-inspired orb pendant lights hang from the ceiling. On ambience alone, I would rate this room inviting. A deep voice reverberates from the record player behind the coffee bar. A 60s Motown song that I’ve never heard before. To my right, a man sings along quietly, wearing a vintage Calvin Klein t-shirt. His voice is surprisingly beautiful. To my left, another tinkers on his computer. Writing a script, it seems. Wearing baggy Carhartt pants and rubber slip-on shoes — a uniform not uncommon to this area.
I wonder how much of this life is performance. I wonder if I will miss this place when I am gone. This coffee shop, this city. The materials, shapes, people that I once perceived to be better than me. Now they no longer seem to be enough to fill my heart’s true desire. Perhaps they were just a tool to help me understand what that really is.
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A few things I’m thankful for:
- Stability and security
- Space and grace as I process big emotions
- Sweet, sweet time in the sun!!!
- Childhood pictures I’ve never seen before
Pop culture things I’m thinking about:
- New Beyonce obviously. Haven’t gotten too much time to really sit with it yet, but I appreciate body of work that subverts and redefines American norms.
- Watched the first episode of Palm Royale, and I’m excited to keep watching more.
- The Loewe campaign with Aubrey Plaza and Dan Levy gave me a chuckle. I love a strong brand campaign.
A random journal entry:
1.23.23
I’m at my best when I’m making art
I’m at my worst when I’m not making art because I’m complaining about how I need more time to make art
A random thought:
I added my past newsletters to my website in case you missed any and want to take a looksy :)
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Thanks for reading :) Talk again soon.
