April 30th, 2024

I just found a business card in my room. It's bright blue. Peggy Sue's Nifty 50's Diner. On it, a gorgeous series of illustrations, in my head, the charming, crooning voice of Buddy Holly.

I went there last year with my parents on the night before my (real birthday) and got mild food poisoning, but the thing is cute, and I sort of don't regret it.

Three dinosaurs peer at the Diner's slogan, "Eat to The Beat." Little musical notes are depicted floating all around.

April 29th, 2024

I know it's only spring and that tomorrow is going to be relatively chilly, but today might be the REAL first day of summer. So hot, and everyone so OUT. I sweat and I LOVE it. Or, at least, it was.

On the way home I get caught in an insane downpour. Real April showers. It pours so hard that I decide it would be better to just run for it. There is something so delicious about running in a mini skirt, I book it back to my house as fast as I can, my face and body completely washed in rain that's coming down harder than any shower I've ever taken.

I take a second of cover under a low and well-leaf-populated tree and find myself side to side with a boy about my age. "What the actual fuck," he says, gesturing towards the rain, the rain that keeps coming.

"I know!" I say, sort of elated by the endorphins, by the summer, by the funny under-the-tree-connection. And then, I keep running. I run all the way home.

April 8th, 2024

I just saw the eclipse. The clouds cleared and in the distance someone yelled “holy shit.” And they meant it. A fusion of sensations ran through me. Real terror-fueled tears, a massive grin of exaltation.

Being in totality felt like an unbelievable privilege, it was frighteningly beautiful, otherworldly grounding. Maybe it was perverted to see the sun and the moon get intimate, but it’s the kind of pornography that I don’t think will ever get old. I’m afraid I can’t give them their privacy. I’ll be peeping Tom with my eclipse glasses. I’ll be like a pornhub addict, desperate for the chance to view this meeting of night and day. I’ll be a creep, an eclipse chaser. Next time I’ll bring my gear, not lubricant or a dildo, but a welders mask, the NASA approved one.

I’ll be a lover too. Just a sweet appreciator. So thrilled by the joy of being here on this planet, looking at that planet and that planet with all the other creatures and things occupying this place too. Are we all aligned right now? And how, also, are the rocks all pushed together to form this perfect circle? And how, additionally, does gas form a perfect, fiery sphere? Are you kidding me?

I felt elated. I felt horrified. It was as intense as that moment when your crush likes you back. It was like a gorgeous lightening storm but somehow more dramatic. It was like nothing I could compare it too, a forceful amalgamation of feelings that are so human and immense.

I wrote to my friends about this hauntingly special feeling, composite sensations. About the gasp that we all shared. The shouts and sounds of awe that really did emit from us. Living. This is another reason.

April 7, 2024

I ride to the airport in style. I’m going to Texas. My Lyft driver is a delight, a gentleman from Ecuador who has invested in bright red interior detailing and upholstery. I compliment him on his selection.

La Guardia — terminal B — home of one of the most magnificent fountains.

I’ve fashioned myself the kind of outfit I would rather not be seen in, but I take my seat carelessly, front row, a little cafe table and chairs to watch the fountain do its thing. Little yellow cabs are projected on the streams of water. It spits out letters. M-A-N-H-A-T-T-A-N. B-R-O-N-X.

And what a delight, I’m able to impromptu arrange a meet up right in front of this very water feature with my friend B. A hug in an airport is worth so much.

B is stuck in airport hell, she’s been bouncing between JFK terminals since the early morning and (in order to reach her destination) has been forced to make her way all the way to LGA, but we’re both able to make it out of NYC and into the air by 5PM.

Buckled in, I close my eyes. I’m actually flying. The take off usually puts me to sleep.