Reaching what’s too high, or what’s been dropped
Dublin recap, drag queens, art
Hey friends,
One of my goals for 2023 was to dust off this Substack and stretch myself as a writer. Mostly, I need to be more disciplined and have something to work on and towards. Expect more from me here, less on Musk’s Twitter.
(But, y’know, we’re a week into 2023 and I already missed my own Sunday deadline. Cheers to forgiveness as self-care, amirite?)
This week: A bit about what I’ve been up to, stuff I’ve been thinking about, and a round-up of beautiful things.
If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know I went to Dublin last month. It was my first solo trip in a decade — unmoored from any obligations, simply powered by my own whims and wallet.
I’m very grateful to have a career and relationships that allow me to take to the road regularly. In fact, last year was one of my busiest: Chicago for a family funeral and reunion, but also the James Beard Awards; Memphis for a speaking engagement, Arizona to hug my friend’s babies and hike through magical Sedona. And lest I forget, I kicked off the year ziplining through a Panamanian cloud forest with my husband and two closest friends!
But all that zooming around with or for others is a different travel experience. A part of me yearned deeply for my own company. I landed in Dublin on a Wednesday, and for a week, I clocked 9 or 10 miles a day, wandering the city. I sought out pastries, drag queens and bookstores. I nearly got blown off a rainy, windswept cliff near the seaside village of Howth. At the Cliffs of Moher, I felt the rain, sleet, hail and sun in a matter of minutes. I got into a screaming match with the ocean and lost.
Wandering Merrion Square, the park housing a memorial statue to famous Dubliner Oscar Wilde, I found myself crying. Above me was a disco ball reflecting the diffused late morning light — I could write hundreds of words on sunlight in Dublin alone — and I was listening to one of my old downloaded playlists, the kind of twee hipster stuff 20-something me listened on repeat. “Feeling the Pull” by another Dubliner, Glen Hansard came on, appropriate given the circumstances, and I found myself crying.
I had been feeling lonely for a few days, but it felt indescribably good, like I was tapping into something primal and forgotten. A loneliness that felt like a low bass tone in a song, not unpleasant but obvious. I sat in that park watching the blue-and-black magpies bully away some giant-ass seagulls, keeping myself company. Over the next few days, the loneliness didn’t go away, but I felt more sure than ever that I’m my own best company.
What a wonderful lesson to take into 2023.
I recently was reminded of the below tweet by the late, great Amy Krouse Rosenthal, and it’s my guiding principal for this section of the newsletter. I hope you find some value or magic in my recommendations for what to read, watch, or do — I know I did.
READ:
Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights sustained me through much of last year. A collection of diary entries and essays by the acclaimed poet, the book is a chronicle of wonder and awe in every day miracles. In a world that constantly tells us we’re lacking, Gay lives in abundance, and invites us to believe in it, too. (Today’s subject line is from one of his essays.)
WATCH:
I make no bones about it: I love crying. Maybe you do too? Not enough (non-queer) people are talking about We’re Here, which follows drag stars Bob the Drag Queen, Eureka, and Shangela to conservative small-towns around the country to host a big drag show featuring local talent. Part Priscilla, Queen of the Desert campiness, part Queer Eye-tugging-at-the-heartstrings, part Real Queer America (an amazing must-read by Samantha Allen), We’re Here released its third season some weeks ago, but I only caught up over the weekend. Besides the expected razzle-dazzle that comes with a drag show, the queens play empathetic, big-hearted fairy godmothers to small town or rural residents seeking to express themselves or push for change in their local community. From Selma, Alabama, to Temecula, California, to central Florida, the queens swoop into towns with quiet, desperate queer communities yearning to be open and accepted, grappling with topics like transness, gun violence, and the legacy of racism along the way. God save these Queens.
DO:
I’ve been feeling the pull (ahem) to get back into creative work, and that has taken on different forms over the year. I haven’t painted in a minute, but I have been collaging a storm — it’s a fun activity that keeps my hands busy and my brain focused. I’m hoping to get a bit better at it this year.
Book links are affiliate links through Bookshop.org, where I receive a small commission if you make a purchase. You’ll also be supporting an independent bookstore — shop locally when you can.
Ah! I subscribed so long ago and was delighted to see this pop up today.