hot ghoul diary 6.0
friday
10:32 AM: i’m in line at the bagel shop listening to velvet underground. something about drinking coffee inside an old-looking building inspires me to try to relive my days as a liberal arts school student, so i’ve been wearing a lot of tights lately and carrying around a book. everyone in the bagel line is staring at my ass, but i wish they were staring at the overpriced mary janes i just bought. it’s starting to feel like i’m getting blisters for nothing.
10:48 AM: i’m back in my apartment eating my bagel in solitude. gluten-free everything with gravlax, red onion, and vegan cream cheese. fuck i love new york. no one here knows who i am or that my allergies are bullshit. or even if they did, neuroticism is nothing new.
10: 49 AM: for once i’m eating without a youtube video. instead i’m staring out the window, watching leaves fall and thinking about how by some miracle i’ve discovered what critics are calling “a quiet, happy life”. debating whether i should keep it going or fall in love.
2:58 PM: i have the day off work today so that means it’s time to practice self-care for once (roam around the city and buy items). my first stop is an independent bookstore to peruse the poetry section while looking forlorn until i feel like i’m in a pinterest board. there’s something about local bookstores where you wish you could spend your whole life in one. the worn wooden shelves and thousands of worlds waiting to be opened make you forget that linkedin is real.
my two most unrealistic fantasies in life are 1.) to get lost within a labyrinth of bookcases and 2.) live in a victorian mansion that is somehow also in the middle of a cozy village where a select few sexually dominant lovers come and go like a revolving door and my only responsibility is collecting stamps, yet it somehow also has a political impact.
3:14 PM: i’m at the bookstore and hit the jackpot. they have an entire section dedicated to horror lit just in time for spooky season! i don’t think i’ve read fiction that’s not in the horror/thriller category in a long time, unless you include the poorly written sexts i received on hinge a few months ago. which honestly, do perhaps count as horror given that the guy kept referring to himself in third person. this is what i get for irresponsibly matching with people during the 72 hours i was in chicago. but idk, it’s easy to be into something you know will never happen.
3:17 PM: the poetry section calls to me and i immediately notice a bright red book on the shelf. it’s woke up no light by leila mottley. i flip to a poem called “birthday lists through the ages”. one line in and it’s my favorite thing i have read in a really long time. i won’t post the poem here because i’m not sure if that is an ethical thing to do to an artist (and also because when i tried to take a picture of it the lighting was bad). but the last line was a banger:
“there is only so much you can do in the dark”
8:49 PM: breaking news: i sent a man on hinge a five page paper on how much i love david lynch and he still asked me out on a date. typically “what kind of movies do you like?” is the kiss of death for me because i can never answer it without typing out a magna carta on surrealism, which ends in the man viewing me as more of a human than a woman. god forbid! but luckily for me this guy seemed to appreciate my antics and asked to meet for coffee.
i typically don’t love daylight dates because well-lit spaces kill all sensuality. but coffee man seems decent (tall), so i’m going to be brave and try to flirt over iced chai.
10:01 PM: i’m in bed already if you can even believe it. the headline is: woman who once thrived in chaos now finds joy within face masks and vampire novels. in other news, my earth-toned sticky tabs finally came in the mail so i can finally start annotating my copy of queen of the damned. lately i’ve been getting really into documenting quotes and then writing them down somewhere in cursive. writing in cursive makes me feel like i live in the aforementioned victorian mansion. all that’s missing is someone to tie me to my bed. i better get some use out of my new headboard soon, otherwise i’m going to emotionally blackmail wayfair into giving me a refund.
here’s to hoping tall coffee man is a match.
saturday
11:23 AM: call the press, a thirty one year old woman is attending a halloween party. tonight my friend mariya is taking me to a little gathering (100+ people) where everyone will be celebrating the season (doing pumpkin-shaped jello shots and dancing to the brat remix album). i am going as a witch (original), but before i even think about that i need to leave my house and do my saturday ritual (buy two bottles of hal’s seltzer and sit in the community garden, slathered in a mixture of bug spray, glossier you + SPF 50).
12:22 PM: the community garden already has people sitting in it which triggers my only child syndrome. i wish biting wasn’t a felony.
5:32 PM: hair is crimped, winged eye liner is perfected, heaving knockers are snug in the corset portion of the dress i’m pretending is a costume. wearing your everyday outfit and people thinking it’s elaborate halloween garb is a highlight of the hot ghoul experience. in about an hour i get to have the luxurious travel experience of taking the train into brooklyn. this is just like gossip girl.
6:45 PM: the bad news: my train is 20 mins late. the good news: no one at the subway stop knows i’m going observational comedy on them in my head.
6:53 PM: another ten minutes pass. still no train. there is a beautiful woman in a five thousand dollar coat eating five dollar sushi next to the trash can. very high-low.
7:21 PM: i’m finally on the stupid train. i absolutely refuse to take a lyft. “my highlighter looks way too good not to be perceived by as many people as possible” i think to myself as everyone in the train car stares at the floor, disassociating.
8:15 PM: mariya is waiting for me on the side of the apartment building where the party is. she is wearing pants as always. she’s the only person i’ve ever met who looks good in jeans. when i make it inside i am immediately offered chicken tenders by a woman half my size, so naturally i start acting like it’s never even occurred to me to be hungry past 8 PM.
8:16 PM: i say something weird about how the last brooklyn house party i went to also had chicken fingers. no one knows what to say to that. mariya rushes me to the jello shots.
9:40 PM: mariya and i have been sitting outside talking for over an hour like we still have a podcast. what is being best friends if not having your own language that makes every situation either funnier or easier? it’s these moments where i don’t know who or where i would be if we never met.
9:49: mariya’s college friend offers us some expensive whiskey. i’m so chill and cool about it. her friend is wearing a devil costume that’s just a red dress and horns. everything girls do is an instant classic. mariya says the girl is getting her phd. i make a point not to ask her about it. asking a phd student about their research when they’re trying to relax is one step below pouring ice cold water over someone’s head and then reading them your screenplay.
speaking of phd's here is something profound i realized: being your friend’s plus one to a party is all about being chill and normal. being a guest at your friend’s party is all about getting alcohol poisoning.
10:25 PM: unrecorded podcast time comes to an end. the rest of mariya’s college friends are here which means it’s time for me to smile and nod in the background. all her friends are very nice. i can’t tell if they’re talking to me out of politeness or if my lipstick shade is vampy enough that i seem interesting. either way i’m having a good time cosplaying as someone whose family vacations didn’t end in my dad yelling about the room service butter being too stiff.
11:49 PM: the topo chico hard seltzers are kicking in. a girl with a cool bob asks me what kind of writing i do. i struggle to verbalize a clear answer so i just smile and making typing motions with my fingers. haunting.
12:32 AM: people start talking politics and i chime in with some random statement about how i voted by mail.
1:12 AM: we’ve hit the point in the night where i’m asking strangers to rank chex mix flavors.
2:12 AM: mariya’s boyfriend tony arrives. he’s a chef but dresses like an assistant professor. i am happy to see a familiar face.
2:13 AM: mariya pulls tony onto her lap. it makes me happy to see her with a giant man she can treat like a delicate doll. i wonder what other people think of their dynamic. she doesn’t.
3:32 AM: the three of us end up back at my apartment, eating popeye’s and listening to angel olsen. mariya is on top of tony, tony is hunched over meticulously eating wings, i’m enjoying a biscuit like someone whose never had a bad thought about her body. i feel at home within the love my best friend has found.
3:49 AM: mariya tells tony he has to hurry up and finish his wings. tony complains. mariya sits on his back. tony fights back a smile. i call them a lyft and fall asleep hoping all good things last forever.
saturday
1:45 PM: i wake up exhausted. the weed + bread cancelled out any hangover i may have had from the party. but this is sadly not going to be a bagel day. i’m meeting a new friend for drinks later so i must convalesce.
2:15 PM: invented this thing called bed gatorade which is where you drink ice cold gatorade in a warm bed. i respond very late to a message from tall coffee man.
3:30 PM: i lethargically get dressed for drinks at this beautiful bar i made a reservation for. texting someone the words “i made us a reservation” makes me feel like i’m forty two years old with a private plane. i wear a black turtleneck dress, which only further inflates the delusions of grandeur.
5:04 PM: i’m at the bar waiting for my new friend. we went to school together but met on linkedin. i’m not sure if i’m even supposed to call her a friend yet because this is our first time meeting irl. i suppose i’m optimistic. i’m optimistic about everything these days.
-Rachel Elizzz