february 1 2024

On Sunday, I fly back home from playing shows on the other side of the country. I was tired and cranky and being anti-social. I know my exhaustion comes off as bitchiness but there’s nothing I care to do about it. The shows go well. I love my fans. They cheer me up. They remind me to stop complaining.

On Monday, I stay up until 5 in the morning. I can’t fall asleep. I try to write. I nap for a few hours. I go to pilates. I announce my Mexico City show. I call my boyfriend. I go to therapy. I cry, cry, cry. I decide to be over my own drama and spend the evening watching Desperate Housewives.

On Tuesday, I spend the day with Meg. We hole up in her apartment and read to each other out loud. She makes us tea, she makes us dinner and I tell her about the future, I tell her how she will live to be at least 90 because I can see it in her face. She sighs. She tells me she saw me in a dream.

On Wednesday, I go to the airport to do something important. I come back home and sweep the whole apartment. I open the windows. I do laundry. I download Ableton, finally. I send Maria many little voice notes. She sends me pictures from set. I forget to eat all day. I write in one of my other diaries. I watch a tutorial. I have twizzlers for dinner. I go to bed.

It is Thursday and the sky is dark and grey, again. I can’t live like this so I look up sunny vacation destinations on Tiktok. Someone tells me they miss my astrology videos. I ignore my emails. I go to pilates. I pick up groceries. I make myself lunch. I write all day.