I don’t want to start every newsletter with a comment on how long it’s been since I last wrote one. That’s tired, that’s boring. But what I will say is I’ve had this draft open for months and agonized over how much or little I had to say, and how it might sound to “everybody,” which is also tired and boring?
I’m so patient with other people’s creative timelines. I applaud other artists going at their own pace and putting out whatever they want, whenever it works best for them. I’m very “no worries if not!” about what my favorite writers, musicians, performers, etc. release and how they do it and why. If they burn out and need to hit pause, I fully support it. A queen leaves All-Stars to focus on their mental health and I’m on my couch with a cupcake like Lucille Bluth: “Good for her.”
Frank Ocean consistently keeps me hanging by a thread. I famously waited nine (9) calendar years between Fiona Apple projects, enthusiastically! Rihanna basically told me to my face that I’m never getting another album, but I don’t stan any less. I dutifully slather my face in Fat Water and stream ANTI once a month. I will sit with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other and eat up whatever crumbs Beyoncé gives me, no questions asked. She wants to drop a visual album in the dead of night and ruin my REM cycles forever? Love that for me! Oh, now she wants to drop an album with no visuals, ensuring that I buy concert tickets to see them with my own eyes? It’s an honor.
I need to be better about giving myself that same grace.
All that to say, here I am. Tired and boring.
And depressed, don’t forget depressed! Grief-induced depression has pretty much stolen all of my joy. Attenzione, pickpocket! My anxiety has been through the roof. My chest hurts, my muscles twitch. I can’t stop crying. All of my nails are a different length. I’ve been having dark, intrusive thoughts: what am I doing here? What does death feel like? What if white people had to work on Juneteenth? Also, I have Covid. After three long years of bobbing and weaving and ducking and masking, she finally got me. These days, I’m catching everything but a break.
My therapist in London asked me if I’d consider myself a happy person and I laughed. Like I thought she was being sarcastic? She wasn’t. So I said no, I don’t think so, but I try to be. I could probably try harder.
Then she asked me what my baseline happiness level would be, on a scale of 1 to 10, and I said 5, but immediately regretted it. That’s too low, she must be judging me. Maybe 7, I said. Then she laughed.
Of course it’s something I’ve thought about before, especially during happier times. Was I happy because I’m a happy person or because things happened to be going “right” in that moment?
I don’t know if I’m a sad person as much as a person who isn’t afraid to (over)think about sad things. But I also have a lot of Scorpio in my chart. I’ve lost and/or given up much of what has defined my adult life — my dog, my home, my job, my relationship with my mom — so the truth is that most days I just don’t recognize myself. Happiness feels a little foreign right now. I am, as they say, Going Through It. Just assume I’m going through it until I announce otherwise. This is the baseline right now.
Anyway, Barbie. I enjoyed it a lot! I loved the sets and costume design, the soundtrack, and all the Easter eggs. Kate McKinnon is hilarious, Ryan Gosling is the perfect himbo, and the way Issa Rae says “The GodfATHER?” is utterly brilliant (Hunter Harris explained it much better than I can). Like everyone else, I laughed, cried, wore a little pink sweater. I saw it alone, but there was a sense of community among the Thursday afternoon crowd. I haven’t felt that kind of sisterhood in the theater since 50 Shades of Grey. I don’t go to the movies very often.
Overall, I appreciated the story and the sentiment, and it filled me with fun memories of being a kid, tucked away in my bedroom and letting my imagination run wild. I’ve always had a secret dream to do editorial/comms for Barbie (if anyone has a Mattel hookup, holler at me!). But as someone who never bothered with Ken dolls, I did think there was too much Ken. Why are we apologizing to Ken? And why she chose the real world over Barbieland is beyond me. That was a real “bitch, are you dumb” moment, personally. I would have been back in that transportation montage so fast! And don’t think for a second that I didn’t listen to “What Was I Made For?” on repeat while staring out an airplane window for 11 hours. Real melancholy shit.
Currently keeping me afloat:
A quote from Desiree Rogers, who I recently interviewed for Une Femme: “The point is — and I think the point my mother would make is — there's always going to be something new to learn. You're never going to have all the knowledge you think you should have to do something. It's just a matter of having enough, not being afraid, and being able to ask for and find what you need when you need it.”
FaceTime calls with my niece. We play “Blair Witch,” which is when she holds the phone right under her face and runs around the house laughing maniacally.
Sasha Colby, your favorite drag queen’s favorite drag queen
The Sims 4 Horse Ranch expansion pack. The way my Sim is eating up these riding competitions? Chestnut Ridge cannot take her!
Ladies First: A Story of Women in Hip-Hop on Netflix. Inspiring, infuriating, incredible. I do wish they got Missy or Lil’ Kim for a sit-down but overall, dream hampton did that.
New albums from Jenny Lewis, Arlo Parks, Olivia Dean, Bethany Cosentino, and KAYTRAMINE, and a relisten of NSYNC’s No Strings Attached. (The Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes feature on “Space Cowboy?” We simply don’t talk about it enough.)
Views of the Bay.
Girl breakfast, lunch, and dinner
Saying “I read something really interesting recently” when it was definitely my horoscope.
That interview quote!! Pure gold. Good to hear from you, however long it takes. I’ll always take your emails :)
I love this and I love you! Great writing, Britt. I also chuckled at you listening to N*Sync. Brings me back to our youth.