I heard someone on the internet say recently, “If I’m journaling? Doomsday.” I wonder what they would say about starting a newsletter… call an ambulance?
I recently lost my job, which in a wise and enlightened hindsight is 20-20 sort of way, was for the best. I was overworked and had no time to myself or my studio practice or to just be in my own inner world, which had slowly and then all at once, nearly broken me. I am now happy to announce that I have returned to my childlike sense of wonder (or trauma), and have the privilege of taking a moment to figure out my life again.
Writing has come back to me as of late. It started as a Google document diary to record and process my baby gay dating life, and it has evolved into my main coping strategy at the moment besides watching TikTok videos. Mind dumping in this one Google doc on my computer has saved my life, especially lately. It’s cliche but it’s true: I don’t know how I feel until I write about it, and I feel better no matter what after I do. (Thank Gorb.)
My connection to writing I think comes from keeping diaries and prayer journals as a shy and sensitive kid. Journaling and praying felt like an outlet for my inner world and a way for me to feel like I was making a difference by bearing witness to my life. If no one else could acknowledge my turmoil, then maybe I could write God a letter! Thankfully, my belief in capital G god has been replaced with a strong inner voice and that childhood sensitivity is now my guide, for better and for worse. Prayer was my introduction to delicately chosen words; prayer taught me about poetry. And in many ways, also made me a painter.
My hope is that sharing this little shanty of a writing practice can thread some little strings through the void that tie me to a community, or at least give me an outlet. I am seeking a third place within this block of text – room to grow and experiment and feel connected to the abyss in some weird way. With this space I make for myself here, I’m hoping to build a bridge to the life I want. To put it plainly, I want to stay Here. Here as in alive and not withering. Here as in tuned into the buzz of inspiration and (okay, sue me but) good vibes.
If you decide to go on this ride with me, in future newsletters you may find the following:
Letting love in, words that feel just right, attachment issues, stuff about gay, bowls of cereal, noticing, creature comforts, little notes and scraps, romantic country shit, colors, rocks, funny content, paintings, home(body-ness), dreams, light, songs and also listening.
I would also like to play around with repeating segments in this section. I’m not sure what this is and in an attempt to stay playful I will probably keep changing my mind. But for now:
My ritual of the week (is this a weekly newsletter? Time will tell.) is unfortunately …eating Chick-fil-a after therapy! Imagine being the kind of person who spends an hour processing shame and trauma about many things including ~gay~ and then buys homophobic chicken. It’s a beautiful thing. But in all honesty, it is something that makes me feel human when mental illness so desperately wants me to not feel human. My #1 with a lemonade and Chick-fil-a sauce and ketchup — this goes out to you. And this time it is actually my pleasure.
Book I’m Reading Right Now: The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer
My unemployment vibe: Khaotic Kaylee is a star.
If you’re in or near LA, go check out my friend Kento Saisho’s art show called Things @ Open Minded Art Space — up until December 10th
Help Lars pay for top surgery and dental work! — click here
A song I like today: Crimson & Clover by The Shacks
anyway
thanks for being here
— kat