In an effort to get used to sharing my creative writing more on here, I’ve decided to publish an exercise Rebecca gave us called the List exercise, where we had to write three lists about anything: our favorite vegetables, the most awkward interactions we’ve had on dates, etc. The only specific instruction was that these lists not be “dry” meaning that they should try to push past one word and maybe even acquire a narrative or “story-like” feel along the way.

I loved this exercise because I didn’t find myself worrying so much about the lyricism or fluidity of the piece, but rather, of its effective use of an alternative format. You can use this to help you if you’re in a generative slump or if you need a break from your usual painstaking writing/editing practice, and you can also use it to motivate high schoolers or undergraduate creative writers to push beyond the form they’re used to.

Apologies (@mom and dad) in advance for the expletives/sexual content !! I’m a grown woman!

An Instructional Guide: Taking Out The Garbage in New York City

1. Call your mom and connect your bluetooth headphones so your hands are free to do other things. Slip on your house shoes, the comfortable ones that don’t slide off or make your feet sweaty. Put on a pair of shorts, loose denim or compressive exercise spandex, with an oversized sweatshirt. This will ensure your body is partially covered so as to avoid unnecessary ogling by the men who loiter and smoke cigarettes outside your door. If your mom doesn’t answer, play ambient techno music like Mount Kimbie or Vegyn. Stamp on the trash bin lever. It is Sunday which means just trash out, recycling stays until Wednesday. Congratulate yourself for your stellar executive function. Pull up on the trash bag’s plastic loops and secure them in a knot, careful not to rip the sides by yanking too quickly. Hold your breath; it’s the height of summer, so the trash, which is filled with scraps of grilled chicken breast, broken egg shells, slimy bits of spinach, stale crusts of multigrain toast and crumpled chip bags, smells like a sewer. Set the soiled bag by the front door and replenish the bin with a new one. Don’t look at the bottom of the bin as you do this – there are messy brushstrokes of cream and ochre there that remind you that your apartment is never truly clean. Don’t think about the wood roaches who you’ve yet to evict from the crevices of your faulty cabinets and shelves. Shut the lid so the smell doesn’t spread throughout the rest of the apartment. Open the door and turn the lock so when you leave the door doesn’t fully close. Walk the two flights of stairs down to the front doors. Leave both doors open and walk five paces to the tree next to the bus stop. Lean the bag against the tree for the trash guys who will retrieve it early tomorrow morning. Walk straight back inside; don’t make eye contact with the guy smoking a cigarette at the bus stop. Firmly shut both doors behind you, but do not lock them. They lock themselves. When you return to your apartment, lock that door. Wash your hands and then shut yourself away in your bedroom.

2. Text your roommate.

Want to help me take out the trash?

I’m not home! But I’ll do it next week. Thank you! <3

No problemo.

Watch three more episodes of a K-drama. Take a long pull of your vape. Stare at the framed image on your wall of Anthony Bourdain flipping you the middle finger outside of Brasserie Les Halles in Manhattan. Check the clock: 10:30pm. Stand slowly, wearily, listening to the creak of a hangover in your young and aging bones. Slip on your fuzzy slippers. Walk to the trash can in the kitchen. Tie up the trash and hoist it out of the bin. Put it by the front door. Open the refrigerator and crack open a Carlsberg. Gulp down a few swigs and place it back on your shelf, the sparsely populated one with eggs, kimchi and almond milk. Pick up the trash bag. Hesitate. Open the door and leave it propped open using your newly purchased soccer cleats (you suck at soccer but joined a pickup league this fall to make new friends). Drag the bag down the stairs. Let drips of an unidentifiable dark brown liquid seep onto the staircase. Throw open both front doors. Toss the bag next to the bus stop. Close enough. Walk back inside and pull both doors closed as you do. Don’t double check that they are closed. Trudge your way up the stairs. Take your time. The vape and the beer and the TV and the loneliness take a lot out of you. Put your soccer cleats back on the shoe rack. Close the door. Go back to your room and plop down on your bed. Start K-drama episode four. Pause it. Retrieve your Carlsberg from the refrigerator and bring it to your room. Play K-drama episode four. Wonder where your roommate is, what your ex is doing, whether your brother will call you before bed. Wonder how you ended up here in this monstrous city, whether you, too, are becoming monstrous. Finish the beer, finish episode four.

3. Ash your rolled cigarette with the tobacco gifted to you by your long-distance Portuguese fling who came to visit last week. Carry the ash tray over to the trash can and let the left overs fall into the bin. The bag is mostly empty but you should still take it out. Tie the red strings in a bow, a big one, so it resembles the hair clips with which your mother adorned your yellow curls as a toddler. Think of your childhood in Maryland, of Portugal— how its verdancy made you feel more at home than New York ever will. Replace the empty bin with a new bag. Place the nearly empty, used bag outside your front door. You can take it down in the morning. Rest, sleep deeply, dream of somewhere else where empty does not mean insufficient but rather vast, unbounded, full of possibilities.

4. Take out the trash. Don’t think too much of it.

   

Seven Avenues to Resisting Temptation

1. If related to sex outside of marriage (for the religious): recite the following verbiage three times under your breath while looking in the mirror every morning: Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.

2. If related to a severe nicotine addiction: look at pictures of people with holes in their necks, lung cancer survival rates, and pictures of smoker’s lungs. Then, go down a YouTube rabbit hole. Search “Distance Runner’s Day in the Life.” Tell your friends that every time you buy a vape or a pack of cigarettes, they have to Venmo request fifteen dollars. If you smoke the vape or any of the cigarettes, you don’t get the money back. If you throw either away before they are smoked, your friend will send you the money back.

3. If related to ex-stalking: go to therapy.

4. If related to drinking habits: trick yourself. Drink NA beers. Seltzer water. Look at your bank account after a night out. Imagine what your bank account would look like if you hadn’t bought eight tequila sodas last night and the night before that. You’d be one-hundred and seventy-five dollars richer.

5. If related to cheating: go buy some anal beads or a monstrous, clit-sucking vibrator. Read copious amounts of smut. Ideate new and exciting scenarios involving celebrity crushes and sexual risk-taking for the spank bank. Learn to make yourself climax without touching any part of your body. Buy a sex swing. Install it. The world is your oyster.

6. If related to gossiping: reserve the gossip (especially when negative) for corrupt celebrities and politicians, YouTubers who attempt to radicalize vulnerable, lonely men and boys, women-hating women, racists, homophobes, sexists, ableists, elitists, cyberbullies, men who call women bitches and cunts and crazy and people who wear those running shoes that look like flippers (don’t spend too much time on the flipper wearers— they mean well generally). Don’t talk shit about your friends. Or your family. Say it to their faces.

   

7. If related to spiraling in self-hatred loops: remember that little You would be so proud of big You. Remember that you are loved. Remember that you resisted most of the above temptations, and even if you didn’t, you are still worthy of respect. Try of course to resist more nefarious temptations like heroin or violence or arson. Remind yourself that succumbing to desire and impulse is part of life, and that you live a fuller, more vibrant existence by making mistakes and learning from them. Remember that you are human.

   We are Adam and Eve! We are the Apple and the Rib! We are Orpheus and Eurydice! We are the sirens and the sailors! We are the temptress and the tempted! You are sometimes the victim and always the brave hero.

   <33

   Soph

   

   Plus some musique :)) enjoy enjoy enjoy

From Jhumpa Lahiri to Sarah Braunstein, the below list is sure to have something for everyone and will surely get you out of a reading rut (or enable your obsessive reading habit).

☆ “Gogol” - Jhumpa Lahiri

A powerful story about familial histories and futures, focusing particularly on a father-son dynamic (recommended by VJ).

☆ Pond - Claire-Louise Bennett

Plotless in the best way, full of beautiful sentences about ordinary objects like ovens, peaches and outhouses (recommended by Anna).

☆ The Death of Vivek Oji - Akwaeke Emezi

Fucked up, fantastic, and truly human (recommended by Donté).

☆ Yesteryear - Caro Claire Burke

Super engaging and interesting commentary on trad wives and influencer culture with a stellar ending (recommended by Sarah).

☆ Phoebe Berman’s Gonna Lost It - Brooke Averick

Easy read, but not light! An intensely relatable tale of anxiety without being preachy or irritating (recommended by Sarah).

☆ Childish Literature - Alejandro Zambra

(Recommended by Christi).

☆ “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” - Joyce Carol Oates

(Recommended by Christi).

☆ “The Midnight Zone” - Lauren Groff

The harsh softness of motherhood. Surrealist and lyrical. (Recommended by Yours Truly).

Happy reading!!!

All mi love + eternal devotion

-Soph

Recently my brain has been refusing to operate in it’s normal overactive capacity. At first I was frustrated with myself, but I’ve since accepted my fate with hope that it will burn off sooner or later. My fog is not to be confused for a layman’s “brain fog”. That’s much too boring and clinical. I can focus, my fog just shrouds everything that isn’t strange, singular, or essential enough to penetrate through.

It all started when my audio interface broke two weeks ago. I haven’t bought a new one yet. I’m aware it’s my money-ziety and avoidant tendencies camouflaging as frugality, insisting I should wait to buy another one. And yet, I can’t seem to pull the trigger. I’m starting to feel like a backed up mechanism with something stuck in an integral pipe making the whole thing malfunction. Maybe the fog is actually smog. The diaphanous remnants of unused imagination.

There’s something about summer that takes a hold of my brain and limits it to its most basic phytoid functions. All I need is water and sunlight. If I don’t get vitamin D I’ll wither. But if I get lots of it I’ll become happy and beautiful and possibly delicious.

There’s much to be done as always. For instance; I have to find a place to live. I found this one apartment that looked good enough from the photos but there was one major problem… It was located on “Normal Ave”. This almost short circuited my smog brain.

I can’t live on Normal Ave, I don’t want to be normal Av, I’m abnormal. I’m abnormal Av. Will I turn normal if I live on Normal Ave? How abnormal could a Normal ave be if an abnormal Av lived abnormally on it?

A street name shouldn’t cause this much brain twister for a girl in the middle of her July photosynthesis. I went to see Normal Ave in person to confirm my skepticism once and for all. As expected, Normal Ave was not for me. It wasn’t exactly too normal, but it wasn’t abnormal enough either. No Normal for this Av.

One of my favorite Kate Bush songs in called “The Fog”. She sings about her fears of reaching into the unknown and learning to trust that her instincts and heart will guide her through uncertainty. At least that’s what I think it’s about. I love these lyrics…

Just like a photograph I pick you up

Just like a station on the radio

I pick you up

Just like a face in the crowd

I pick you up

Just like a feeling that you’re sending out

I pick it up

I must admit there’s something oddly relieving about fog brain. It’s a simpler life. It keeps me humble. In the past I had a hard time with gratitude. I used to feel like when someone told me to be grateful they were essentially telling me to shut up. It caused a sort of guilt within me. A division in my feeling receptors. “You can’t feel that way, you should be grateful instead”. But I have since learned how to allow my feelings to be, while embracing gratitude at the same time. The cloud coverage in my mind makes it easier to be grateful for basic things: driving home from work at night, listening to sentimental 80’s power ballads, and then sitting on my balcony staring out at the canyon watching the lights in homes switch off one by one; swimming in the ocean and not getting eaten by sharks; being surprised by my book and having an audible reaction in public; listening to other people’s conversations, and remembering everyone is so wrapped up in their intricate lives, and that some things you learn way before other people or waaaaaay later.

I wouldn’t say I’ve lost all the wrinkles in my brain but I do feel it’s processing a little slower, and only reaching for what’s right in front of it. Like I’m suspended in a cloud and have to feel my way through by hand to absorb my surroundings instead of trying to observe everything at once. Hopefully the fog clears soon, but until then I’ll take this sweet smooth brained reprieve and try to carry these sentiments into the future with me…

TIDAL LINK

xx

Av

When does kindness become a crutch? When does passivity morph into toxicity? A drizzle of honey is tasty but a spoonful, in my opinion, is disgusting. Don’t let your friend eat a pillowcase full of Halloween candy unless you want them to projectile vomit all over your room later.

Both Obsession and The Drama point out the problem of the nice guy and raise interesting questions about power dynamics in heteronormative relationships. They also center the liberating and damning paradox that is truth-telling. Bear (Michael Johnston, Obsession) and Charlie (Robert Pattinson, The Drama) might have saved everyone a lot of trouble if they would have cut the bullshit and been honest about their feelings – but then these films wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining. In The Drama, Charlie doesn’t defend his fiancée (Zendaya) because, rightfully so, he’s shocked by what she reveals. But there’s also a part of him that is scared to stick up for her. He’s afraid of what other people will think and, conversely, of how Emma (Zendaya) will react if he says he’s terrified of her, of that thing she almost did. Instead of communicating honestly through that fear, though it’d bring about the confrontation his character clearly hates, Charlie ends up spiraling out, ultimately ruining his relationship and his wedding (spoiler – sorry).

Sometimes, too, the nice guy (girl, person, creature, etc, etc.) relies on kindness to hide their insecurities. In Obsession, Bear’s character is so insecure, so tied to his lovable, reliable guy act and who it has granted him access to that he sacrifices everything just to maintain the charade. Not to mention, my guy engages in a non-consensual relationship with Nikki (Inde Navarrette)!!! Be real. Bear knows early on that his One Wish Willow did something sinister and he chooses to ignore it. When his friends mention the suspicious escalation of Nikki and Bear’s relationship or when Nikki packs Bear a sandwich made with the meat of his dead cat, he pretends everything is fine to spare his ego. Loser behavior!!! That’s not nice — that’s whacko. He effectively endangers everyone he cares about because he’s too scared to confront the reality of the situation: that Nikki only reciprocates his feelings because she’s possessed by a love demon.

There’s a moment in the movie when the real Nikki surfaces while the demon inside her is asleep and she’s pleads tearfully to Bear to help her, to kill her if only to save her from the torturous situation he’s subjected her to. He ignores her entreaty and sneaks off in search of the comfort of another woman, Sarah (Megan Lawless), who luckily is not possessed but whose life he ruins as well (another spoiler!). In Obsession, our perception of Bear steadily unravels: we see him as the shy, reliable friend, then as a passive, messy coward who gets his crush possessed and finally as the selfish villain who does nothing (apart from asking Ian and the shopkeeper to reverse his wish) to save himself, the woman he loves and his friends from the demon he unleashed into all of their lives. In my view, Charlie and Bear’s characters aren’t sweet guys who’ve just had strokes of bad luck – they’re selfish and insecure and that leads to their demise.

And another thing! If someone is reliant on kindness to gain the favor of others, it can have a dulling effect that diminishes more unique aspects of their personality. Think of someone in your class or at your gym who is super sweet. That supreme niceness quickly transforms them into this kind of cardboard cutout where everyone’s like ‘yes! I know them, they’re so nice,’ and then have nothing else to say about that person, like if they’re really funny or know lots of cool historical facts. Taking it a step further, when someone tries to be good in everyone’s eyes, they’re effectively ridding themselves of agency; now they’re just a two-dimensional people-pleaser.

I’m not trying to encourage people to be mean, but I am trying to dissuade reliance on kindness as a way to get people to like you or to camouflage the things you dislike about yourself. I’d much rather spend time with an asshole, but a genuine one at that. If you’re standoffish and curt, live your truth king. If you’re a born-and-raised empath and a sweet pea, great! Just don’t change your tune when a baddie with silky black hair comes along, because if shit hits the fan your true colors will likely resurface.

I myself have fallen victim to the nice guy act. As someone who is very outgoing and confrontational (in my own toxic way at times), it can be endearing to spend time with someone shy and sweet. I have also done the people-pleasing thing as a way to be liked. We all have. But one thing I won’t do is run from discomfort. I say the thing that bothers me and I’ve been brave enough to lean into relationships despite all the fear and distrust and imposter’s syndrome ricocheting around in my brain. I think my whole issue with the niceness charade is that it’s rooted in dishonesty and inauthenticity. The person refuses to tell the truth for fear of putting themselves under the microscope so they end up manipulating the people they care about (Bear). Or they act fine, but hyper-fixate and panic in solitude, letting issues fester until everything blows up in their faces (Charlie). That’s counterproductive and cowardly. True kindness is being able to look at ourselves and others, and say yeah, honesty is terrifying, as is accepting the fact that we’re all mean and flawed and volatile sometimes and then choosing to be real with each other anyway. In the end, showing up authentically is a good thing, even if we’re not always palatable or endearing. Sometimes the realist person in the room is also perceived as the meanest…?

This whole diatribe could just be a self-soothing exercise. Or maybe I’m sick of fraternizing with guys cosplaying as ‘sweet’ but who are actually incredibly passive and dishonest. Or perhaps I just think we’d all be better off if we stopped worrying so much about how we’re perceived and instead acted in accordance with our desires. Shake hands with the shadow self once in a while, you know what I mean?

Until next time—

xx

Soph

Read our conversation with Noble below and comment who you’d like us to interview next.

When did you start making music?

☼ I started writing poetry at a young age, but didn’t record music until later in high school. I didn’t start taking the music thing seriously until I was twenty-one. By then I was recording in the studio.

Do you have a favorite place to create?

☼ It depends. Inspiration is so random, but I’d probably say my bedroom or home studio – it’s the place where I’m most comfortable and allows me room to experiment.

Who is an artist (alive or dead) you’d like to sit down and have a meal with? Why?

☼ The easy answer is to say Michael Jackson or Prince. Who I really want to say is Kanye West, but I understand he’s controversial. But Michael is known as one of the most talented, hardworking artists. I’d ask him where that intrinsic drive came from and how he went about bringing his ideas to life. As an artist, it is your duty to reflect honestly what you’re thinking and feeling, but you also have to think about the effect you want the art to have, and so you have to think about what people are actually going to consume.

Planned or free-flowing creativity?

☼ Now that I have a home studio, I’m very free-flowing. I’m strategic with the presentation of the music, but how it’s being recorded is free-flowing.

What’s one thing you’ve recently changed your mind about?

☼ My brother used to box and I thought it was silly, but now I understand boxing can show us how we’re reacting to opposition or struggle. It’s a good teacher for understanding how we deal with confrontation. As a creative you’re constantly being punched in the face by circumstances, by capitalism – so what do you do? Do you face the problem head on or do you roll with the punches? Boxing has taught me a lot about myself and that’s why I love it now.

Hot take?

☼ 99% of the world isn’t loving correctly. Our concept of love is over-sexualized and people love with too many constraints. True love is meant to be spread in all different kinds of relationships, in different ways.

Who have you been listening to lately?

☼ Young Thug. His music is fire. I’ve also been listening to “We Paid” by 42 Dugg and Lil Baby a lot.

How has your community shaped you?

☼ I would be nothing and nobody without my community. Specifically my friends and my family. NARC is also huge — they’ve given me so much perspective about how important it is to have an extended community. The energy is positive and I love how it’s curated. Growing up, my dad fed me so many positive mantras like ‘you’re beautiful and you can do anything you put your mind to.’ My family believes so much in my music. It’d be hard to keep going if I didn’t have a community that believes in what I do. I want to show the people I care about that I can chase something bigger than myself and put the work into making it happen. People might have thought that as I got older I was conceited, but I realized that was just a reflection of the way they were raised to think about themselves.

What do you do when you’re feeling uninspired?

☼ Pray. Sit still. Get around people who inspire me. Go out and do things. Art is a reflection of life so when you’re uninspired it’s typically because you’re not living.

Favorite project you’ve worked on?

☼ Mantra Music.

What’s a limiting thought you’ve had to overcome in order to do what you’re doing now?

☼ Thinking I don’t have the resources for the big dreams I have. But in the words of Mariah Carey: Imma do the best I can with what I got.

A motto you live by?

☼ Discipline, discernment, duty. Specifically duty. People no longer have a sense of duty to their community, their family, themselves. What’s your purpose? What are you responsible for that’s bigger than you? You don’t have to love it, but you should know what it is.

☼

Follow Noble’s journey on IG and listen to his music.

Since moving, I’ve found myself at a loss for how to talk about myself. I don’t feel like a drastically different person, but when your day to day routines and surroundings are totally new it can feel like identity whiplash. I have so much on my mind all the time but I don’t feel like the world is prepared for the tornado of my interiority. My therapist likened me to a turtle the other day. I told her I either feel like sharing my true thoughts makes me feel too exposed and then regretful for revealing too much, or I seem like the most boring girl alive because I’m so closed off my mind goes blank from the unwillingness to disclose anything at all. I feel much more comfortable with this reptilian metaphor for the multifaceted twins of the zodiac. This gemini isn’t “two faced”, she’s just either a naked turtle or has retreated so far into her shell you can’t see her at all. To be known is a frightening concept. There’s a reason turtles have their shells. And a life chasing the desire to be understood would be an unfulfilling one, despite the universal nature of that drive.

I still need social interaction though. If the alternative to sharing is living a life of pure solitude I guess I should come up with a few talking points. Which brings me back to my original query… Should I start lying?

Hear me out…

Firstly, I’m kind of in the city of liars. I might be the only one in Los Angeles not lying. I try not to make sweeping generalizations about men, not because I don’t believe them, but because I just think its tired. But… men notoriously love to lie. Some like to lie about how many other people they’re dating, their height, or their job title. Some like to fabricate in the form of stretching the truth, or omitting it. I’m thinking that’s where I’ll start on my lying journey.

I used to catch my ex boyfriend in the most unnecessary webs of exaggerations. It was perfectly harmless, but he just loved to zhush up a story to make it more fun. Sometimes if I wasn’t careful and actively listening he would sneak in totally made up facts about people or history to help prove his point. I spoke to him yesterday about my interest in joining his cause. He told me he recently made up an entire story on a night out just for the hell of it, and everyone eat it up! He’s got enough midwestern good guy charm to get away with just about anything in my opinion, but he made a pretty compelling case. Maybe lying to carry on the oral tradition of storytelling is actually integral to our generations necessity for human connection. Who remembers the plot of Catch Me If You Can? It’s about a guy who literally lied his way to the top. He became a pilot! Tony Soprano lied about making all his money through his sanitation business and he’s one of the most beloved characters of all time. It’s still unclear to me if this is plain old male audacity or an exercise in the power of imagination. Either way, I’m intrigued

To be clear, my intention is not to lie for the sake of people pleasing or being liked, it’s for the sake of lateral thinking, and evading the choice between psychic nudity and impenetrability. Believe me, nothing gives me more pleasure in life than denying someone what they want to hear. Not because I’m cruel, but because I prefer the conversational road less traveled. Don’t bother fishing for a compliment from me, I will find my own way to say something nice, in my own time.

But seriously, who doesn’t love mystery?! A human question mark! I love being curious. I love knowing things, but I spend so much time worrying about what I don’t know, I’m starting to wonder if I’m obsessed with unanswered questions, or the search for meaning rather than the meaning of the thing itself. It’s a strange sort of masochism to be constantly reaching for the most honest, painful, truth. Or denying the legitimacy of the truth given unless it hurts.

I’ve waxed on about my desire for objectivity. How boring! I’m not a lawyer, or a bird flying above seeing everything zoomed out. I have to live in my brain, so might as well enjoy it. Even if that means lying to myself until I believe my tall tales. I miss whimsy. I miss thinking outside the box.

See the problem is, I can’t deny who I am. I was raised to honor integrity and authenticity. I’ve chosen a life of radical vulnerability regardless of how uncomfortable it makes me. I don’t know my way around dishonesty but I do love a good story. I just think the substance, the meat, the amniotic fluid of my mind is not up for grabs and not all inclusive! So in conclusion, your resident Gemini is declaring that resorting to indecent mental exposure is out for the summer, and ingenuity is in!

Until next time…

Happy Summer <3

TIDAL LINK

xx

av

📖 READ

FICTION: The Lying Life of Adults by Elena Ferrante

SHORT STORY: “Love” by Clarice Lispector

POETRY: “The Meaning of the Shovel” by Martín Espada (if you have a New Yorker subscription, read “Gonzo”)

🎬 WATCH

MOVIE: Shéhérazade (stream on Netflix)

TV SHOW: Twenty-five Twenty-one (Netflix)

YOUTUBE: Gia Fu for Soulection Radio live from Café Colmado in New York, Doobydobap and The Blaze for Cercle live from Aiguille du Midi in Chamonix

🎧 LISTEN

PODCAST: Radio Ambulante

MUSIC: “Inaka” by Mei Semones

🧠 LEARN / HEAL

xx

Go Knicks

-Soph

As I contemplate taking a break from the city, I’m also drawn to thinking about how I can continue to grow especially with the change of pace and environment. I bet moving slower and living in the woods for a bit will do wonders for my cortisol levels. The day before seeing Lily at Frog, I went to a ceramics lesson and made an ash tray which has now become my most beloved creation (thanks to my wonderful instructor Lupe at Bklyn Clay).

This wouldn’t be The Frizz without its existential meditations. Considering my budding passion for ceramics, I’ve pieced together everything that the practice has taught me so far, especially as someone with very little experience who is trying to absorb every tip and trick I can.

Even though no one asked, here are the five lessons I’ve learned from practicing ceramics (that I believe are applicable inside and outside of the studio):

𓏋 Be in your body

In ceramics (and in wheel-throwing specifically), I’ve been taught that you really need to learn to feel when something isn’t right with the clay. Is it slightly wobbly? Are the sides too thin? Is there a tiny air bubble that you can only recognize by pressing your thumb to it? Move closer, touch the sides, set your pointer finger against the moving piece. I’ve also learned that sitting really close to the wheel helps. You can breathe life into the piece and also pinpoint a problem when it arises. Whatever’s been bothering you isn’t going to get any better by pushing it down or putting yourself at a distance from it. So if something is off, scoot in, take a deep breath, and take a closer look.

𓏋 Are you being flexible or are you lowering your expectations?

So much of ceramics is about compromise. Work with the clay, not against it. Sometimes, though, you need to push back and envision your end goal: a beautiful, symmetrical piece, not a jumbled mound of clay. In our personal lives, being overly flexible or inconsistent with expectations (and boundaries) can be a recipe for disaster. We want to be the ‘laid back cool girl’ (cough me cough) and therefore run the risk of sacrificing our goals. And yes, setting and maintaining expectations often goes hand-in-hand with being a little rigid now and again. No one likes doing it, but sometimes you must (“Ron, you can’t!” Ikyk). When we stick to the expectations we’ve set for ourselves and others, for our work, we’re likely going to start building towards what we want in the short and long term.

𓏋 Focus on what is in front of you and take it one step at a time (cue Jordin Sparks)

As I’ve learned more about wheel-throwing, I’ve also internalized the practice of slowing down or completely stopping the wheel while I’m working. I won’t even know what to do next if I don’t understand where I am. By breaking wheel-throwing down into steps and stopping when I need to, I have a clearer view of what lies ahead. Life is the same. If you’re operating at hyper-speed, on autopilot, then you’re one step closer to becoming a robot. When it feels like everything is getting to be too much, ask yourself: where am I in this moment? What is one thing I can do today or this week to center myself? What is one actionable goal I want to focus on for the next two weeks or two months? It can be as simple as remembering that drinking water is good for you and setting a timer to drink a glass 4 times a day. I often forget that everything takes time and that building something we’re proud of, becoming someone we’re proud of, is a gradual process. Doing ceramics has helped me understand that, and the need to focus on what is in front of me. So for two hours biweekly, sometimes only once a month (ceramics are $$), I’m sitting in front of the wheel, plastered head-to-toe in white clay, not thinking about anything other than how the f*ck I’m going to get the piece to stop wobbling.

𓏋 Not knowing is cool

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned from wheel-throwing is that not knowing is cool. I’m someone who likes to be in control and understand what I’m doing and how I’m supposed to be doing it. Increasingly, though, I’ve realized that it’s better to admit to not knowing because that’s when we learn a whole lot.

Ceramics —most art— is not really amenable to the kind of person who thinks they know everything. It takes months (usually years) of being confused yet infinitely curious and having a willingness to venture into the unknown to scratch the surface when we explore new art forms. So, yeah, I’m trying to be less of a controlling, know-it-all— what’re you guys up to?

𓏋 Don’t push too hard — just be consistent

Over the past few months, I’ve pushed myself to attain the things that I want. I got into two grad schools with scholarships, planned a trip with my college best friend to Copenhagen and ran a half marathon in NYC (something I previously never thought I’d be able to do). Those accomplishments have made me proud and are a result of sincere effort. At the same time, wheel-throwing has shown me that there is a time to push hard (I mean literally leaning with the entire upper half of your body onto the clay) and a time to pull back and apply consistent, stable pressure. In those moments, I can see my hands shaking, my body resisting, but when the shaking stabilizes, the clay responds. Without something reliable to shape it, a piece will come out fragile and deformed. For me, being consistent is hard. I like change and I thrive in semi-chaotic environments. But over the course of the past few months, I’ve realized that when I’m at my best, I’m showing up for myself and the people I care about. Not applying a building pressure, just there to show that I care. Like the clay, all anyone really needs to keep going is some stability, water and a helping hand.

all mi love + devotion

xx

Soph

𓏋

Also wanted to shout out some super talented NYC ceramicists I admire:

Brooke Schneider

Shane Gabier

Teya Kepila

And an on-theme playlist of course:

Until next time <333

☼

When did you dive into this creative outlet? Who influenced you to take an interest in music?

☼ I had an amazing teacher in middle school who really pushed me to take music seriously and also find my own place in it. Music teachers are magic.

Favorite place to create?

☼ My home, always and forever. Writing and recording in between swimming, cooking and reading— that’s heaven.

Who is an artist you’d like to sit down and have a meal with? Why?

☼ Currently, I would say Bjork simply because every time I hear her speak I’m inspired, motivated, and comforted. She is such a pillar of feminine power in the alt/new-age world and industry itself.

When you’re writing a new song, what comes first— the melody or the lyrics?

☼ They co-reveal themselves.

Dream co-headliner?

☼ My best friends.

Does technology influence your ability to create? How do you think technology is affecting the creative self?

☼ I love gear, all decades, full stop. I feel very empowered by pedals. They give me the capacity to fill and decorate an entire sonic space even when I’m alone on stage. I think the use of AI is pretty deplorable, however you spin it. The only silver lining I can come up with is that the age of AI is re-granting me license to be imperfect, chubby, unkempt, pitchy and f*cking real. We’ve hit our ceiling of perfection as a society (thank god) and the only way to go is down.

What is something that has surprised you recently?

☼ I thrifted a small desk organizer and when I got it home and looked inside it was full of magical creature origamis. Everyone in my life has been receiving these little masterpieces as gifts from me now and they decorate my entire bungalow.

What’s your hot take?

☼ The dentist is a racket.

Which artists are inspiring you right now? What have you been listening to?

☼ I listen to my friends’ unreleased demos in the Samply app, most notably Julia Zivic and Beccs (yes, that does make me the luckiest girl in the world). Aldous Harding’s new record Train on the Island is another masterpiece and will forever be a huge inspiration to me. And “Midnight Sun” by Zara Larsson is my song of the summer.

What do you do when you’re feeling uninspired?

☼ Play the damn guitar.

Favorite project you’ve worked on recently?

☼ The Worrier by Al Olender. My credits include guitar, background vocals and some production. Al is an invaluable collaborator to me. This record holds a special place in my heart.

Honorable mention: the new, unreleased Psymon Spine record coming to your ears soon.

What is a motto you live by?

☼ I love myself so I take care of myself.

☼

Follow Aubrey’s journey on IG. More importantly, listen to her music.

Maybe you’ve come across the tales of her she-demonism in your studies of Babylonian and Sumerian scrolls or Hebrew folklore. Perhaps you’ve noticed “Black moon Lilith” on your astrological chart, heard of Lilith Fair, or maybe your only reference is the True Blood character.

I see Lilith as a symbol of unapologetic, sacred, feral, feminine freedom. Lilith is a mindset. She’s iconography! Different variations of a Lilith presence actually predate most well known Abrahamic mythological figures. Lilītu was first mentioned in the Epic of Gilgamesh as a wild storming wind spirit and/or demoness, but the evolution of her infamy got a lot more interesting after she was written about in The Alphabet of Ben Sira in the middle ages.

Don’t come for me about accuracy to the ancient texts. That being said, if you don’t know the story, it goes something like this:

She was super hot and sexy and had a big fat attitude. She was made alongside Adam, as his equal, out of the same clay. She refused to be subservient, and when Adam ordered her to lie beneath him during sex, she looked at him like he was an idiot and said “…shut up bitch, no way”, fled the Garden of Eden, and refused to return. It was after that, that God said, “Yikes, this Adam dude needs some help” and made Eve out of his rib. Second time’s a charm I guess.

Lots more weird stuff happened after that. But if you ask me, the men in charge made her the scape goat for all the rules about sexuality and patriarchal ideas they wanted to enforce. “I had a wet dream” — “That was Lilith’s mounting you in your sleep!” “My baby died” — “Murdering demon whore!”

Some ancient literature refers to her as more of a class of demons rather than a singular being. Kabbalists called her lots of different things, but The Princess of Screeching is my personal favorite. She’s also associated with owls, sometimes depicted with talons for feet and feathered wings. To me, this not only reinforces her connection to nocturnal/shadow energy, but also as a symbol of deep intuitive wisdom and knowledge of hidden truths. Her presence is threateningly transformative and unmistakably untamable whether you see it as sacred or sacrilege.

Michelangelo put Lilith dead center in The Fall and Expulsion from the Garden of Eden on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He depicts her as half woman, half serpent coiled around the tree of knowledge handing Eve the apple.

Lilith is trying to warn her! She’s like, “Girl, you’re going to want to know this”. I totally would have eaten the apple too. I want to know what fruit from the tree of knowledge tastes like.

They called her a demon, a monster, baby stealer, baby killer, a harlot, a succubus, a vampire, and yet they couldn’t erase the fact that she’s innately linked to divine wisdom and indomitability. She had men scared to sleep alone LOLLL. How fierce that the OG woman stirred up so much chaos? Like Beyonce said, “You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation”.

Maybe she killed some babies, I don’t really know. I don’t share WWLD to encourage “demonic” behavior. To me, WWLD is about shooing away the voices in your head that try to convince you of your unworthiness. It’s about choosing action instead of overthinking. Lilith doesn’t ask for permission. Matter of fact she doesn’t ask for forgiveness either. She just plunges into the unknown because she knows it’s better than being stuck in a situation that doesn’t fit. Plus she’s so sexy she scares people. That’s an added perk.

So was she truly the “night hag”, or the original feminist? Probably both. I’m striving to be more like her. There may be some of you who find it easy to act instinctually, already having mastered courage and working on structured discipline instead. But if you’re like me, and you have a habit of second guessing your ideas, limiting or subduing yourself, or forgetting about your own freedom, I encourage you to ask this essential question…

WWLD?

TIDAL PLAYLIST LINK

bye :P

xx

av

Having just completed a short story workshop with Granta Magazine, I’ve been thinking about the kinds of stories I have written and would like to write in the future. Although I have yet to publish a short story (hopefully soon!), I grew immensely throughout the course and would definitely recommend it to any emerging or established writer. It is quite hands-off, but it’s great for getting your reading reps in and for generative accountability. I was writing every other day and reading multiple stories weekly. I was exposed to Clarice Lispector’s work for the first time. Truly life-altering. For the final assignment of the workshop, we were asked to submit a short story to be critiqued by the course tutor and other participants.

A few weeks later, just before the assignment was due, I traveled (yes, traveled, it’s a HIKE) from Queens to a Dalí exhibition at Di Donna (a must see if you haven’t been!) on the Upper East Side and there encountered Dalí’s Surrealist portrait ‘Woman with Drawers.’ I couldn’t get the image of the part-woman, part-dresser, of the animate blending with the inanimate, out of my mind.

So, just a day before the assignment was due, I wrote a feverish, messy story about a girl named Marlo who, like me, becomes obsessed with the idea of this hybrid woman-cabinet, so much so that she morphs into one. After I submitted the story, although inspired, I felt even more confused than when I had started. My course tutor said the idea called to mind British-born, Mexican Surrealist Leonora Carrington, an artist with whom I was not previously familiar.

I went down another rabbit hole.

Born on April 6th, 1917 (my birthday, too!) in Lancashire, England, Carrington bucked the restrictive confines of her upper-class upbringing. She was expelled from two Catholic schools and much to her father’s chagrin, had no interest in being a debutante. Rather, she was fascinated by the stories of Lewis Carroll and by Celtic fables and later took an interest in visual art. At 19, she enrolled in a newly-established art academy in London, the place where she first encountered Surrealist art, including that of painter Max Ernst. Shortly thereafter, Carrington met Ernst at a dinner party in Paris, and they fell in love instantly (despite the twenty-six-year age gap). The pair fled to the south of France, a decision which furthered Carrington’s involvement with and contributions to the Surrealist movement.

Ernst encouraged Carrington’s painting and she his. For a time, their world seemed like any artist’s dream: full of inspiration, of self-expression, of freedom. However, in the summer of 1940, France fell under Nazi occupation and Ernst was imprisoned at a concentration camp. He and Carrington were separated indefinitely. Carrington suffered immensely in his absence and was forcibly committed to a psychiatric facility in Spain by her family (thanks for nothing!). Two years later, Carrington was released. She spent a brief stint in New York City before settling amongst other exiled Surrealists in Mexico City, where she lived and created for the remainder of her life.

Most of my fiction writing centers women like Carrington: eccentric and strong-willed. Like her, my protagonists are defiant. I’m drawn to creating characters who circumvent barriers to their sexual, intellectual or creative expression. To her family, Carrington may have seemed an unsolv[able] problem (à la Virginia Woolf), but if I were to reconfigure this definition, I would say that she, that most creative, boundary-breaking women are both a problem and a solution, both contradictory and entirely sensible, and that they should be left alone, left unsolved. Without this friction, though, these restraints, would we have great art at all? Just like the creatures in her paintings— ghostly, mystical, impossible, metamorphosing— Carrington was always someone incapable of being defined. This confrontation is exactly what pushed Carrington to create, making her one of the foremost Surrealists in a movement that, at the time, snubbed its nose at female artists. Her questions and contradictions fueled limitless creativity. In an interview just before her death, as if in confirmation of that, Carrington claimed: “the only thing I know, is that I don’t know.”

I think in some ways successful fiction writing is exactly this. Stories are meant to shed light on what we don’t understand— about the world, about ourselves. Carrington, like so many artists who came before, showed us that to create freely is to inhabit and explore a shifting, confrontational, quixotic self. For some reason, I feel a strange kinship with her. Maybe there’s a part of me that wishes to be more like Carrington. Although I doubt I will ever reach this level of creative liberation, it is comforting to know that sometimes great art is simply about leaving the problem unsolved and the question unanswered.

xx

Soph

P.S. While I wrote this I was listening to…

☼

What inspired you to start Browngirl Green?

☼ I was inspired to start Browngirl Green because I didn’t see many people who looked like me or had my lived experience talking about climate issues in a meaningful way that felt accessible / relatable. So I took to my own platform to start educating folks about the issues I cared about & studied in creative and entertaining ways. I have spent the past few years now building community spaces using digital tools to connect and inspire folks with opportunities, including my other start-up and platform, Green Jobs Board, to help get people into climate work.

Can you remember what life was like for you when you decided to start this endeavor?

☼ When I was starting out, I was in my last semester of undergrad at UC Berkeley. I felt lost and uncertain about what I wanted to do with my life and how I wanted to make an impact, and Browngirl Green gave me a starting point to go forward towards my purpose.

Favorite place to go and dream up new ideas?

☼ I love going and relaxing at the beach. Living in LA, I’m in close proximity to some beautiful hiking trails and coastal regions, so I try to take advantage as often as possible.

How do you see your business evolving over the next few years? Where would you like it to go?

☼ I see my business ideally turning into the go-to platform for climate work, providing folks with the education and tools and connections necessary to get into this field.

Did your upbringing impact your decision to step into the climate space?

☼ My upbringing did impact my work. My parents always taught me that I should do more for others than myself, so my environmental work comes from a place of wanting to make other people’s lives easier and better overall.

What advice do you have for an aspiring climate activist who wants to have an impact in sustainability?

☼ My advice for budding climate activists is to figure out who you can collaborate with— not just like-minded folks but people with different backgrounds, expertise and skillsets so you can come together to innovate and scale ideas.

Any surprising or positive news in the climate world recently?

☼ A positive climate news story I’m happy about is a community in New Jersey successfully shutting down an AI data center coming into their town without their consent. They did it with just their voices and community power and for me it was a refreshing story of hope.

A hot take:

☼ Arugula isn’t good.

A song or artist you’ve been listening to this spring:

☼

Be sure to follow Kristy’s journey on IG and beyond.

My co-worker keeps asking me really personal questions about my life. How do I avoid answering without seeming rude or stand-offish? I’m not opposed to talking with her, I just don’t want to have to share my business like that.

☆In my opinion, not wanting to share pieces of yourself with everyone isn’t rude. If that makes them think you’re a bitch or stand-offish, good. Low key… being a bitch is super underrated. Just give very simple, minimal answers. If they still don’t take the hint you can say, “I just don’t really feel like talking about it”. It won’t be a whole weird thing if you don’t make it one. Try, “That’s pretty personal” or “I don’t feel like getting into it”. If that feels really bad, you can try sharing, but I would guess sharing stuff you don’t want to will feel worse than setting a boundary.

What does it actually look like to live up/have fun in your 20s?

☆I don’t really know how to answer this because I’ve spent most of my 20s thus far being pretty hermetic. I would start by trying to worry less about what you’re “supposed” to be doing/enjoying as a 20-something. Most people that are older than us say that they were fumbling around and confused in their 20’s and that it only gets better and more sexy from here on out. So if you want to go to raves, make reckless choices and date the wrong people that’s your prerogative. But if spending Saturday nights reading and smoking weed sounds better, that’s okay too. Though I think the best way to “live it up” in general is to try new things. Allow yourself to explore what the idea of fun actually looks like for you.

My ex-boyfriend cheated on me months ago but I’m still not over it. How do I stop thinking about him? Should I key his motorcycle?

☆This is tough. Unfortunately I think time will heal this wound. Try to remember moments where he did something awkward or ugly. And if that doesn’t help I can write a hex for you. And if you really want to fuck up his motorcycle you should sneak some diesel in the tank. It will do more permanent damage and will take longer to figure out what’s wrong… which will probably make him go a little insane. Kidding of course (or not).

Lately I’ve been fixating on my appearance a lot. How do I stop the obsessive thoughts?

☆First I’ll say, you are not alone in this. I think we all fixate on our bodies or faces to some extent. I think you need to get out of your head. I’m reading this book right now called Time, Myth and Matter by LD Deutsch and it’s been like a magic potion for my brain. LD <33333333333333

I found that it really eases my anxiety to zoom out and go macro when I can’t stop succumbing to my ego’s worry loops. Maybe pondering space and time and Jungian archetypal ideology will help you too. And if that doesn’t help, just cover up your mirrors.

ALBUM RECS FOR WHEN YOU WANT TO FEEL….

…A bit whimsical and like you need a cool grandmother’s wisdom.

…Like a fun person who needs to dance cause they’re too sexy not to.

…Cool. But you also need to focus.

…like you contain multitudes. You’re not just an ingredient, you’re the whole soup, girl.

Millennials, gird your loins. She’s back…

I’ll never forget watching that scene in Girls where Hannah is digging those Q-tips so far into her ear she has to go to the hospital. It scarred me. I’ve heard all the chatter about how you shouldn’t clean your ears that way, but it’s too late for me to stop now. I don’t screwdriver my ear like Hannah did, but the Q-tip is an essential part of my post shower routine and I will never give it up. And that feeling of not being able to look away from Hannah’s intensely intimate moment of OCD, and almost abrasive vulnerability stuck with me, permeating the viewing experience of the entire show.

I wasn’t a 20-something white woman gentrifying Brooklyn in 2012. It would be another 8 years before I started to embody that trope, but Girls was a formative show for me whether I liked it or not. Most memories I have of it are excruciating and cringe, but there’s also a few hilarious ones that left just as much of an impression on me as the Q-tip —like when Hannah goes to the rave with Elijah and swaps shirts with a random dude, and ends up wearing his mesh top with nothing underneath for the rest of the episode. “You’re a really good dancer!” “I know!!!” “Wanna trade shirts?”

The show immediately ignited an immense amount of discourse, but what I remember being talked about most of all was Lena Dunham herself. So many millennial woman at the time thought she was a genius, proclaiming her the voice of their generation. Many also did whatever they could to discount/discredit/debunk her success, wholeheartedly unable to separate Lena from her character.

Hannah Horvath was a difficult pill to swallow, to say the least. She was narcissistic, delusional, somehow too self aware and lacking shame in all the ways women are supposed to be self conscious. She had aggressively terrible taste in men, she was lazy, immature, unapologetically herself (nude a lot), and worst of all… not skinny. Part of me thinks the public was bitter that Lena managed to sell her show to HBO at 23 and star in it at 25 years old. She allowed herself to be seen in all these very unattractive ways. Carrie Bradshaw was insane and delusional as well but in a very sexy, chic and slim package. Not quite as much of a risk if you ask me. But alas, I still found watching Hannah to be pretty much agonizing most of the time.

I’ve noticed a resurgence of Lena in the last couple months leading up to her new memoir, Famesick which was released on the 14th. Maybe that’s just the press tour doing a number on my algorithm. In general though, I’m feeling a collective acceptance of Lena once again. Which has also made me reflect on how many times the idea of her within our culture has seesawed back and forth between excitement and revulsion, to appreciation back to disdain and now respect… ? To be honest, I haven’t payed her enough attention over the years to fully understand the details of this phenomenon. But it makes me wonder; how much of our reaction to this woman was actually due to her literal body of work, and how much was it an unconscious response to what she reflected back to us about ourselves?

Hannah wasn’t the only character with an insufferable personality. Marnie was just as bad most of the time, and Jessa was toxic as hell, but her beauty and fabulous accent was distracting enough to keep the heat off of her. But Hannah would say the thoughts out loud that most of our shame filters out for fear of putting everyone off. When I’ve asked friends if they would read her new book, the response has universally been a sigh and a gentle dismissal like “I just can’t”, “she still annoys me so much”, which is fair enough I guess. Personally though, I would love to meet her and pick her brain. I admire her ability to continue writing and sharing herself regardless of how she’s being received.

What I can’t seem to figure out is why the pendulum has swung back again. Has Lena’s approach to engaging with the public softened, or have we evolved into a more receptive audience? Have we become more comfortable with the Hannah Horvath within? Or is this just the cyclical nature of fame?

What do you guys think?

I might have to read this book…

xx

Avi

Twenty-eight may seem a small age to most, but if you think about it, that’s a pretty long time spent on Earth. It’s 1,460 weeks, 10,220 days or 14,716,800 minutes. Even so, when I think about aging, I don’t really feel existential or angsty. I feel extremely grateful. Of course there’s a small part of me that wishes I had a puppy and a house in the Spanish countryside at this point, but that’s just something to continue working towards. As I get older, I feel more at peace than I did the previous year and I can partly attribute that to a feeling of accumulation. Every year builds upon the last.

As I sit here pondering time (as one does), I’m drawn to the Fibonacci Sequence, which is a growth pattern wherein the two preceding terms are added together to create the next term in the sequence. Visually, the Fibonacci Sequence is represented as a spiral which displays how the pattern evolves as it builds. What’s interesting about this particular spiral is that although it progressively narrows, the sequence that creates it is infinitely compounding. When I think about having spent another three hundred and sixty-five days on Earth, this spiral is a comfort. It reminds me that even as life becomes increasingly complicated and even as we are confronted with challenge after challenge, year after year, just by living to see another day, we are engaging in a process of continual expansion outward, not a regression inward.

Fibonacci also pushes us to think of the passage of time in a non-linear way. Just as we as people do not grow linearly, with the Fibonacci Sequence, we might imagine time as the gradual accumulation of experiences instead of a straight path from birth to death. Time, in Fibonacci’s world, does not abandon what came before but rather takes advantage of its precedents in order to move forward.

A contradiction within this theory of comparison is that the Fibonacci Spiral is a self-similar pattern, meaning that if you zoom in or out on the shape, you will see that it is made up of the same structural pattern repeating itself. It’s growing by multiplying sameness. As people, we don’t necessarily do that. We don’t repeat the exact same experiences every day. Every second we are changing; we chip away at the parts of ourselves that no longer serve us while gathering fragments of new identities, habits and interests. The one thing we can always count on is change.

It is fascinating to consider evolution not as a straight line nor as a jagged non-linear one, but rather as a spiral, a self-weaving web made up of infinite experiences. Sure, mortality is an undeniable truth. But even as our physical vessel decays, we can relish in the fact that our existence has made an impression, even if an infinitesimal one, on the map of humanity. We can never truly be erased or forgotten.

I wrote that I wasn’t feeling existential about aging, but I think my natural resting state is existential. I suppose that’s the inescapable plight of most writers. Thanks to Fibonacci, however, I can lean on the belief that even as I’m writing this, spending precious time traveling inward to mine my prefrontal cortex for new ideas, I’m growing in tandem with the world around me, expanding my reach like a mycelial network and spiraling outward like the disk of a sunflower.

xx

Soph

☼

When did you start taking photos? And what or who influenced you to take an interest in this particular art form?

☼ In 8th grade — that’s when I saved up to buy my first camera which was a Canon Eos Rebel T7. That’s still the only camera I’ve ever bought. Everything else has been generously gifted to me and I’m grateful for that. I started to get more serious about photography during my sophomore year of high school. I’d walk around with my brother Aedan and his best friend Amadou during the pandemic and take pictures of everything. As for inspiration— definitely my Pop-Pop. He was an incredible photographer and writer. He was an extreme perfectionist. I’d look at thousands of his prints whenever I’d go over to his house. I am also just inspired by my life and the people in it. The company I keep is a mix of amazing and insane people. They all have awesome stories, and I’m lucky enough to get to document them once in a while.

Favorite place to create?

☼ The street or my community. I’m inspired by the work of my friends Nazir and Olu; they’re both from Philly as well. I feel like the street/documentary style has been slowly (or not so slowly) bleeding into my commercial and editorial work. I see things a bit differently than I did a year or two ago. I’m happy about that.

Strategically planned or free-flowing creativity?

☼ Free-flowing for sure. I’m not a great planner nor am I particularly strategic. I just wander around and photograph until I have something I like.

Who is an artist (living or dead) you’d like to sit down and have a meal with? Why?

☼ Probably Frank Ocean. He’s just such a force and I think we’d click. But they say not to meet your heroes so…

Something you’re convinced of that no one else agrees with you on?

☼ I don’t like umbrellas. I don’t think I’ve ever owned one. I’ll just take my chances. I also like to gift singular flowers instead of bouquets; I want to show the person that this is the beautiful singular piece of nature you remind me of— that they’re not a random assortment of things I don’t know put together.

A song you listen to when stepping out in a new fit:

☼ “Here I Am” by Rick Ross and Nelly or “Flyer Than U” by my sis Laila!. Also “Throw Some D’s” by Rich Boy always makes me feel confident.

What to do when you’re feeling frazzled or uninspired?

☼ Take a walk, drink a sweet drink and people watch. Or call my mom.

Favorite project you’ve worked on thus far?

What’s a limiting thought you’ve had to push past in order to do what you’re doing now?

☼ I low key have a lot of limiting thoughts but I have also had the same amount of grandiose thoughts so it evens out. I’d say the hardest thing right now is thinking I might not make it to where I want to be or that I might not have enough resources to create the work I believe I was made to create. But as long as I manifest the life I want to live and put in the work, then it’ll happen.

What is a motto you live by?

☼ It’s nice to be important but more important to be nice.

☼

Follow Dylan and keep us with his work on IG.

I moved back home to California two weeks ago and honestly, I have little to no idea of what I want my life to look like here. But I must say, there is no better place to not have your shit together than Southern California. At least for me, it’s hard to spiral when the sun is shining, the sky is clear, the Pacific Ocean is glittering and the trees are green in winter. GREEN. I sobbed upon arrival when I saw the foliage, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Despite being from here, I haven’t actually lived in Los Angeles in 10 years. And I’ve also never lived in the part of town I now reside in, so as much as it’s home, it also feels like I’m brand new. So for this first round of advice, I thought I would start with some words of wisdom I’ve given friends recently, along with some I have given myself in my limbo transition time. Maybe it could also help you if you are thinking of making a big change/move, you’re feeling a bit lost or apathetic about your city, or you just need a second opinion on regular human shit. Alright, lesgo!

What can I do when I feel like I’m spiraling and I want some semblance of control in my life?

☆ I like to cut my hair. Just an inch or even a little half inch at a time. It’s really fun and sort of addicting. Less harmful to your body than smoking or drinking, but potentially more harmful to your self esteem. Pick your poison!

How do I stop censoring my journal writing? I don’t know why I’m still judging my own thoughts when I know I’m the only one reading it.

☆This is interesting! When I started going to therapy I was nervous to be completely honest there too. But you have to remember, you’re only stifling yourself by doing this. The harsh reality is, the more honest and vulnerable you are, the more you’re going to get out of it. Sorry if that’s not what you want to hear. If it’s a privacy issue, you could try writing on a loose piece of paper and burning it immediately after. Or buy one of those funky Lisa Frank journals with a lock that we used to have when we were younger (I would always lose the key).

Should I join a March Madness bracket?

☆Girl, what’s his name…? Jk. If you keep up with college basketball, have at it. But be careful, cause I fear March Madness could be a gateway drug into sports betting. And that shit, while Frizzy™, is not cute.

How do I get my roommate to bring her boyfriend around less? He’s a nice guy but annoys the shit out of me. I want to walk around the apartment naked.

☆This is a classic conundrum. Especially for a naked girl. If I was feeling mature, I would tell you to talk to your roommate about it. Maybe ask her to give you more of a heads up when she’s planning on having him over. But if I wasn’t feeling mature 😈 I would tell you to one up him and become as annoying as possible whenever he’s around. Play really loud music, constantly ask him for dating advice, be in the common areas all the time. He’s probably at your place so often because your gorgeous temple is a respite from the dirty boy dungeon he lives in with his friends. So ruin the peace he thinks he can steal from you.

How do you stop caring if people think you’re weird in public/how to do adventures alone and really enjoy them?

☆If I were you, I would lean into the weird. The likelihood of you finding friends you genuinely connect with and feel seen by while trying to suppress your weirdness is looowwwwww. You don’t want to feel like you’re constantly monitoring yourself just to be liked or accepted. That’s too much work. Personally, I’m too lazy for that.

And to answer the second question: I don’t know how to tell you to enjoy it, but you answered that Q yourself. You just have to try. Go do stuff that interests you. Personally, I love going to concerts by myself because I can leave whenever I want. Also if you really need some social interaction, you’re surrounded by people you know you already have something in common with. And if going up to strangers intimidates you, buy the bartender a shot and talk to them. They will appreciate it, unless they’re super busy. Then you’re a nuisance. Use your best judgement with that one.

Also, not to be corny, but remember that being kind to yourself and learning how to be alone is a lifelong practice. Don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come easily.

When I was really nervous for a performance and I couldn’t stop imagining how I would mess up, my guardian angel/singing teacher Linda used to tell me to talk to myself before I went on stage how I would talk to my best friend. I would never talk to Sophie or any other friend in my life the way I rip into myself. Maybe try to keep that in mind the next time you’re at some kind of function alone and you feel like a freak. Get ur freak on, girl.

If you need some advice— get in touch! You can message us directly on Substack, Instagram (@the.frizz.report) or by email. All quandaries will remain anonymous <3

Enjoy my playlist

xx

Avi

PLAYLIST ON TIDAL

PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE

We have some urgent news (for all of our 163 subscribers who clearly spent their winter wondering when the next issue of Blink would come out). We are sorry to say that Blink Twice is no more. We’ve taken on a new persona— one that we believe better represents us and the readers of this newsletter: The Frizz. The Frizz is a creative commons, an advice chamber and a vehicle for us to communicate our existential and chaotic musings.

If your brain is swimming with creative ideas, if you are a sucker for wry wit, if you sometimes wake up feeling like you slept with a wet finger in an electrical socket, if people frequently say to you ‘I have no idea what goes on in your brain,’ — you’ve come to the right place. Blink had to reinvent— we had to morph into something new, something that aligns with our self-diagnosed chaotic and creative neuroses, ok?

Some additional updates:

• My partner-in-crime Avalon moved back to her beloved Los Angeles (don’t worry, she’s sticking with The Frizz).

• The Frizz will unveil weekly columns including an Avi advice log, guest essays, Sophie’s stream of consciousness and curated playlists

• The Frizz dreams to host events in LA/NYC and beyond — be on the lookout for announcements about meet-ups at wine bars/book swaps/writing circles/etc etc etc

Don’t be strangers! Tell us what you’ve been working on, topics you’d like us to write about, or a Substack collab you envision for us. We need your input and feedback— nay, we require it.

As a welcoming gift (for ourselves??) we’ve curated a playlist of our favorite songs atm:

The Frizz is pleased to make your acquaintance. Au revoir, Blink. We will always luv u.

xx

Sophie + Avalon

― Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

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