Hey you,
What’s uppppp.
I didn’t have a big week, but I did see Keir Starmer at the pub and I also saw a woman shortly after she’d been hit by a car/bike/vespa, which then fled the scene. She was fine! Oh and I moved a whole ass cabinet from St Leonards to North London on public transport with my flatmate Ruby.
Here’s a song that’s been stuck in my head.
And here’s the rest.
🎖 SWEETIE RATES 🎖
When adults have braces
I just love seeing an adult with braces*. It’s so powerful to me — a real statement of self-determination and fearlessness. An adult with braces says I AM CHOOSING ME. They say IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO SHINE. They say EFF YOU MUM AND DAD. And then, in a year, they’ll say SORRY I JUST HAVE TO TURN AROUND FOR A MOMENT AT THIS CAFE TABLE AND YANK THE SALIVA-COVERED RETAINER OUT OF MY MOUTH BEFORE I CAN BITE INTO MY SALMON GRAIN BOWL. It’s thrilling!
*I mean real, obvious, metal train tracks, not Invisalign. Invisalign is for cheaters and sinners.
Summer VIBES
Seasons, of life and of weather, do well when defined. Last summer I decided I was going to have a Ray of Light Summer (erratic, loud, wearing denim, using the word ‘zephyr’) and it served me perfectly well. Now that the sun has come out and the days have begun getting warmer, it is time for me to crowdsource ideas for my upcoming summer ~vibe~.
A few options I’ve been working on:
Simon and Garfunkel Summer: Bitter feuds. Wild hair. Short but OK with it.
The Swimmer Summer: Confusing. Drunken. Sexy in a delusional way.
Sabrina Carpenter Summer: It girl vibes. Dating Irish man with fillers. Singing with the cadence of Jar Jar Binks.
Summer House Summer: Middlingly entertaining. Kind of concerning. Drunken.
2001 Summer: Having intense, overwhelming crushes. Puka shell necklace. Not worrying about climate change.
Corporate Jargon Summer: Circling back. Being solutions oriented. Drunken.
Family Computer Room Summer: Playing arcade games. Finding peace in isolation. Leather.
I’ll keep working on my list until I get it right. I am always open to suggestions.
Bird up
One of my favourite hobbies is reading vulnerable and life-affirming personal essays in which women grapple with crushing relational difficulties. The Crane Wife by CJ Hauser for The Paris Review fits this bill. It went viral upon being published in 2019, I hear, which isn’t surprising ( it’s incredible) but it’s kind of fucked up that I wasn’t kept in the loop?
⛔️ SWEETIE HATES ⛔️
Northern lights
I read the news! I am at one with the universe! Yet I don’t even get a heads up that there were Northern Lights, oh, everywhere on Friday night? You mean I could have walked 20 minutes to Alexandra Palace and seen one of the most breathtaking and transcendental experiences a person could ever hope to have? And I was just… asleep?
You know what! I don’t even want to see them. It’s not like I spent thousands of pounds to go to Iceland just months ago to try to see them, and never did because it was too cloudy, so I told myself it was OK, there’d always be another time, and then the other time came, on a clear night in a famously cloudy place, and I missed it again, and it feels like everyone else saw them but I didn’t. That’s fine. I have to go now.
Sweet Chile of mine
Adrian Chiles has done it again. The man is cooking with gas, oil, fire and solar.
I’ve failed at jugs, I’m worse at teapots – why can’t I ever pour anything properly?
I’m only filing this scintillating column under HATE this week because I deeply envy this man for his gifts and I know I will never be the kind of evocative, gripping writer that he is. He has a way with words that is unparalleled. Reading an Adrian Chiles piece is kind of like watching Nicholas Cage in Vampire’s Kiss — you’re experiencing a master at work, innately understanding you’re seeing someone do something artistically that has never been done before.
Liver damage
Bad week to be a bottle of orange wine.
Ciao ciao ciao