notes from august: I'M THE BIGGEST VICTIM IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

August. What an outward month. I flew by the seat of my pants everywhere I went— I don’t think I was on time once this month. It’s hot, I’ve been over-extending myself a bit and I have a vacation to Japan approaching that’s been making it difficult for me to feel fully present here in New York. Also just like- is it me or is the air weird this August? Lots of conflict? Lots of conflicting thoughts? Lots of my phone breaking at an Ice Spice concert. Lots of me being the victim of situations I’m not the direct victim of. I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired.

• This month began like all good ones do, with an email from someone I don’t remember from high school asking me if I recall the events of a very specific moment that had little to no impact on my life. I feel bad because it’s obvious that this moment weighed very heavily on the sender’s heart for almost a decade, and I feel even worse because I kinda egged them on so I could add yet another screenshot to my file of boundary-crossing emails that have been sent to me over the years. Of course, I responded, told the sender that I didn’t remember this happening, wished them the best, and now they will not stop emailing me. They even created a second email to try to get a hold of me, but I’m not ready to pull the plug yet because I’m addicted to controlled chaos.

• I’ll cut any corner I can to not wash a dish. If that means I’m bleeding because I burned my entire hand eating a sausage that’s fresh off the pan that means I’m bleeding because I burned my entire hand eating a sausage that’s fresh off the pan.

• I pay extra for the service at the laundromat where they wash and fold your clothes for you. I decided half a year ago that I’d spent too many years folding clothes professionally (retail) to do it myself anymore. It feels good before and after, but I will say, the middle part, “the handoff”, is something I haven’t adjusted to completely. I see it in the faces of the people who work there. When they see me coming they know they are about to see underwear that is so uniquely stiff and discharge-soaked that it could be confused for contemporary sculpture.

• There’s been a lot of cross-platform talk this month about what writing should or shouldn’t be, and I would be the world's craziest liar if I said that it hasn’t gotten to me. I thought about writing an essay about my thoughts but quickly decided against it after I spent about an hour on Substack notes and saw so many writers that I admire co-sign something that goes so deeply against my ethos. Why does nobody else want to admit that they are still learning? Why are we opting for parameters? Why are we obsessed with the idea of being a real writer? I find this whole panic to be really frustrating, and a lot of the critiques to be quite elitist and sad, but truly I’d rather read a bottle of Dr. Bronner’s 10 times over than read something written by someone who looks down on diaristic writing or accessible language. And I’m aware of how the internet works, this will be screenshotted and sent to someone and laughed at, and that’s fine. Hi. Just keep in mind, that if your “standards” make other people in your community feel afraid to fail you’re doing much more harm than good.

• It’s okay to be normal. Being normal won’t strip your special from you. Your idea of normal might be the thing that actually makes you more special. Maybe the things you do to be special are making you like everyone else. 

• Finally started implementing a to-do list after years of thinking I was too good for it. Sad to report that it’s changing my life and I actually feel so much better when I write the things I have to do out on paper instead of keeping them in my head. I thought I was built differently, but really just built like everyone else.

• Telling anyone who will listen about this cat I found on Twitter called Doudou who is so perfect-looking that I’m starting to let in thoughts about divine design and God again.

  dou.o.dou

  

  A post shared by @dou.o.dou

• Was dragged to a birthday party I wasn’t invited to but ended up having a surprisingly good time despite not really feeling like celebrating anything. The party was small but stacked, the room was lined with all types of important people, a few of which I recognized immediately. Upon walking in, I caught the frontman of a very famous 80s new wave band mid-panic, desperately trying to clean some red wine he spilled off of his white pants. I knew in the moment that it was rude to stare, but it was impossible not to. You would’ve done the same. I got myself a drink to look busy while sat back and I watched him ask other guests if they had a Tide-To-Go stick. I thought about all my sketch comedy friends from college that would’ve shat themselves to be in this position as I was sure I heard this exact situation pitched to me as a sketch in undergrad. Long story short, the very famous frontman ended up leaving shortly after he realized that nobody actually carried around Tide-To-Go sticks like the ad encourages us to.

  

• My friend Ian called me with a proposition: to accompany him to an Ice Spice concert because his cousin didn’t want to go anymore. I was excited. Ice Spice was ethereal. And I would have so much more to say if a man standing next to me didn’t ram into me so hard during “In Ha Mood” that my cell phone broke inside my purse. I exited the concert, immediately realized I would be spending more than my rent at Apple in the morning, and tried not to cry as Ian went on about how incredible he felt post-spicing. Right now I’m not able to comment on whether my new phone is worth the 1399 dollars I willingly forked over so I could continue living in foul-diaper smartphone hell, but I guess the bigger display is cool.

  

• Spent too much time with umbrellas this month. I feel like umbrellas were designed specifically to work against me. I absolutely fucking despise them. The way your hands must get wet when you close them. The way they flip upward when the wind hits you at any angle that isn’t straight on. I actually didn’t own one until I moved to New York— in the past, I’ve always had raincoats with drawstrings around the hood that I pull tight whenever it rained, but since I’ve gotten a little older and I’m back on the east coast it just seems a lot more practical to do an umbrella. Well. I’ve broken three this month. Two of them were from usage errors, and the last one was from me throwing it on the ground and jumping on it because I had enough.

• The balance on my victim card is in the negatives.

• I sought out to have a normal and respectable night when I left my apartment to attend my friend Maude’s album release party, but I guess god had other plans for me when he placed an open bar with drinks inspired by the tracklist of Maude’s debut album Sugar Water (x) in my path. I wish was sitting here writing about how much I love my friend and how proud I am to have watched her flourish as an artist, but no, I started puking at 12 after three Sugar Water-inspired cocktails and two shots; first on the curb outside the party, then out the window of the Uber I took home (only briefly pausing my vomit to notice I was throwing up blood), and then at home for almost three hours.

• Never eaten a date before because date enjoyers are always so insistent that they taste *just* like candy, and usually, I find if someone has to be insistent about the taste of something it isn’t the truth. I will die never ingesting something that looks so much like a crushed bug, but yet, allegedly, tastes just like candy.

• A month ago I was convinced that the graffiti I saw on the bench outside my subway stop that reads “I love women’s feet” was something only I could see. It was a lot fainter then, more of a whisper as opposed to the yell that was looking me right in the eye the other morning as I sat down to eat my croissant and wait for the M. Obviously, I’ve had thought about who could be behind this- when I first saw it I assumed it was a child’s doing, but lately, I’ve been thinking this could lean more sinister. Every time I sit for the train I check underneath the seat for a camera, I know that’s crazy but if someone is recording my womanly feet I would like to know.

• I get unreasonably angry when I point towards something and whomever I’m with doesn’t turn their head to look in that direction immediately. The lack of urgency makes me feel disrespected. I know this is wrong, but it’s just how I feel. Usually, I point at fleeting things, blink-and-you-miss-it moments that need to be served immediately after I point and go “look at that.” I’m being generous. I’m sharing my point of view. I’m pointing at something that could change a life. My finger holds the key to the rest of the world. Look when I point.

• Nobody believes me when I tell them that people used to say that me and Ariana Grande have the same teeth.

• My best friend Clare came to town briefly. I surprised her with tickets to Wicked. The show was incredible but the highlight was definitely the three hours we spent after the show in her hotel room trying to get strangers to freestyle with us on Monkey (x). Of course, almost immediately, we came across a man who was down to rap but way more interested in showing us his knives and guns.

• Watched Shrek 2 and cried at the Joan Rivers cameo.

• Been getting back into watching videos about isolated tribes (x).

• My friend Marissa is a perfumer (x), but earlier this month during a walk around her neighborhood she revealed to me that she would also like to be known for her meme. Yes, singular— just one meme. As we walked past a smallish white ambulance, Marissa pointed out that the correct term for that type of vehicle is actually "ambulette," not "ambulance." I had never heard that word before and was honestly stuck by how beautiful it was. The two of us continued our chat for a few paces, discussing other words that are misplaced and beautiful; I naturally brought up “latrine” before Marissa interjected with a deep truth. “Mackenzie, I’ve actually made one meme before… it’s about ambulettes, and I used the Drake format… and I think it could go places”. After a bit of coaxing and a few texts that evening, she finally showed it to me. It’s really a work of art, and obviously I agree with Marissa the potienal is clearly here.

  

• I’ve been listening to “academic brown noise” while I work. (x)

• Watched that awful youtube video about smartschoolboy9. (x)

• This is a public service announcement: If you wear Birkenstocks it is your responsibility to smell your feet before you leave your house! I shouldn’t be smelling your feet when I’m seated next to you on the subway. I shouldn’t be wondering if I can log your foot smell on my Fragrantica account (x).

  

• I hate when people try to be the main character of a crowd at a gathering that doesn’t demand it, if you’re at Comic-Con please go ahead, but if your attending a concert and purposely singing louder than everyone else in an hopes that you’ll end up on Twitter later that night please consider reflecting before purchasing a ticket to anything. I don’t know what happened after the pandemic but it seems like so many people feel entitled to attention in situations where you’re just supposed to blend in. Stop pretending to watch Family Guy at the Rosalia show. Stop quoting the movie. Just be normal. It’s okay.  

• Had to stop myself from grabbing a kitchen knife and killing my boyfriend after he admitted the other night that he doesn’t find Tracy Morgan funny.

• Had a big think about creativity and appeal. I think a lot of us want to make things that appeal to everyone but that’s impossible. I think there is only one person who made something everyone likes and that is the man who invented boxes.

• I’m ending this month on the floor of the airport. I feel like I’m crossing a finish line. This summer has been balls-to-the-wall insanity. My boyfriend is here at the gate with me waiting for our flight. I can tell he feels similarly, he put out a fabulous book of poetry at the end of last month called Mouthful (x) (a project he’s been working on since we met) and I can tell the stress of the release has been weighing on him. I think we’ve both been on a hampster wheel all year and its time to get off, even if it’s just for two weeks. I’ve never been more excited to sit on a plane for 12 hours. My brain feels tired. The balance on my victim card is really low. I must go.

avoid being the throw up girl

-Mackenzie