Coping + aging + carbs
Taking stock of the year of simple carbs and fine lines
I’m starting to feel the one-year lockdown dread. I feel it especially after yesterday’s announcement of 7103 new COVID-19 cases, which brings us back to our daily positivity rate of July 2020. It’s pretty noir how nothing and so much has actually changed.
A year ago, I remember the immense relief I felt when Fowlbread announced they were starting deliveries. My then-officemate Parker swung by the house, bag full of french fries, remarking how long it had been since we saw last each other. That was two weeks into the lockdown. Now, if I get to see him once every two months, even that can feel too frequent.
Another big change is that I got engaged at the start of the year. Really cool stuff, I won’t lie. My relationship with jewelry has changed permanently. I now want to wear one ring on each finger like some kind of a Thanos cosplayer, megalomania and all. It makes for a very exciting Zoom meeting.
A direct result of getting engaged is my regular episodes of I-hate-my-body in my quest to get a little skinny in time of the wedding(? ? ? when?) But I’m coming to the conclusion that this might be impossible. I truly love food, most especially simple carbohydrates like bread and pastries. I’d love to look really hot, but a whole year under lockdown has taught me enough about not sweating the small stuff. If I’m having a terrible day, I ought to be kinder to myself and just give in fully to the slice of Martin’s cake that’s been cooling in the fridge. Or fuck around and pour me a whole drink at 4:00 p.m. BJ is marrying into all of this and if he reneges, I’m pawning the ring for a talent visa to Melbourne.
So if you’re here and if you’ve read this far down, I just want to say thank you for subscribing. And hello, my name is Toni and this is my Substack for making sense of all these inner turmoils and hangups, most of which involve food, pop culture (anime, video games, K-pop), visual arts, and memory. @birdhands has been my username for the longest time. I coined it in college when I started my Tumblr and I simply cannot be moved to change it, even if it no longer really means anything.
Flying by night is loosely based on a Ted Kooser poem from his collection called Flying at Night. Fly Bi Night also happens to be a 1997 gay/bisexual pornographic film, but I swear to god that this is entirely coincidental.
I am turning 30 this year (my second birthday in lockdown), but I don’t feel as terrible as I thought I would. The signs of aging have already manifested long before this. Acid attacks, stretch marks, lines on my face that don’t ever straighten out no matter how much I rake my rose quartz guasha through them.
I was reading the NY Times Magazine interview with Phoebe Bridgers where she talks about her Grammy-nominated song “Kyoto” and her relationship to social media. She says she is guilty of that millennial sense of humor, both sad and self-deprecating, which I confess has been my own schtick for as long as I have been blogging (blogging!) But she mentions what I’ve come to realize is my true fear of getting old, which is losing the ability to change.
So please, I hope you can bear with this newsletter. It’s my way to hopefully never to become a cartoon of myself. And if I ever start sounding like a caricature or that my hubris is going unchecked, let me know.
Toni
the closer taurus season is, the stronger she becomes