Drinking: Rosé. I want a second glass, but I try not to have more than one a night during the week when I’m hanging at home.
Listening: “Clones” by Tierra Whack. What she’s brought to hip-hop lately is a color not yet named. Your move, Pantone.
Watching: Delaney Glazer videos. I was going to start Euphoria tonight, but I got stoned and was enjoying listening to music too much, so dance videos it is. YouTube looks better through half-shut eyes anyway.
Reading: Changing My Life Didn’t Change Me as Much as I Thought It Would, Haley Nahman for Man Repeller.
Thinking: I could really go for a solid house party. Why doesn’t anyone have house parties anymore? Not a pregame, where transience looms over the shot-glass-infested counter like an impatient boyfriend in Sephora; but a good, old fashioned, J-Kwon – Tipsy video house party. I’m never going to be that woman who outgrows bars, but between the intimacy, nostalgia, and general feeling of (often gratuitous) celebration, house parties hold a certain kind of magic. Two years ago, my friends threw a pajama party for New Years. I was on lemon/lime duty, and I famously showed up with 400 slices of citrus. I’ve included this anecdote in the hopes that you will throw a house party knowing I won’t let you down in the fruit department.
Feeling: Emotionally exhausted. I somehow found myself in a grueling fight with my ex today. Word to the wise: right when you think he’s blocked everywhere, you’ll get an email (or, in my case, three).