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Wednesday night Xander and I got dinner at Casa Adela, where we both got pernil asado and split a side of maduros and my after-dinner coffee came in a paper cup with lots of frothed milk. I like that they didn't ask me how I take my coffee, they just brought it out with a wooden stirrer and asked if I wanted more sugar. It was the perfect temperature outside, slightly humid, and I liked how it felt to be walking down the street at dusk sipping on coffee from a nondescript container, not a coffee cup or thermos but a small unmarked paper cup. At dinner and afterwards as we brainstormed ideas for the crushing zine, we agreed that spring is meant for crushing. Both spring and fall make you aware of the passage of time, but with spring you want to be infatuated and fall in love whereas with fall you just reminisce about the past summer. I solicited submissions for the crushing zine on my close friends story, and people's responses were so endearing--"Crushes rule," Adam said. In WSP yesterday Inhae and I were talking about the widening rift amongst our friends of people who were adhering to the "yuppies who will be engaged by 28" script vs. the rest, and I feel like you could see that with those who didn't respond to the crushing stories vs. those who did. Crushing is on the mind!!! I love that in the wake of the breakup wave now we're all milling around searching for connections and yearning for brief, great loves. Last night at the UES guy's apartment I asked him if he still has crushes at 30. He looked at me as if I were crazy, but he played along, questioning my definition of a crush ("I think what you're describing is a subset of what a crush can be") and brainstorming a list of places in NYC that you would want to go with a crush. We watched a couple episodes of Curb on his couch and argued about feminism and sadomasochism whenever he switched to the hockey playoffs. I signed into my HBO account on his TV and sighed as my viewing history came up, "Now you know everything." Inhae and I watched The Girls at Film Forum, where I got an espresso over ice and a rice krispie. She brought a bag of chips in her purse. The movie started off so strong and funny but started to lose the plot after about an hour. Inhae whispered that she was getting kind of bored, and we left ten minutes after as the movie refused to end. In some ways the movie reminded me of Worst Person, bourgeois white women feeling discontent with the roles they're playing as romantic partners which they had assumed but never truly chosen. I felt the main actress's anger and frustration as she watched the audience placidly regarding her, sensed their complacency in the face of the play's pressing themes that should have stirred people to feel something or do something about their own lives. Sometimes I feel like that when I'm telling friends who belong in the aforementioned domestic yuppie category about how I feel about something or what I've been up to; it feels that there's a barrier between us and they regard me with pity, think that I'm lost or a mess just because I'm not in a stable relationship or perfectly content with everything, when in actuality it's fucking stupid to not be spending your mid-20s making mistakes and doing things that make the world feel bigger and that allow you to witness changes in yourself. Each woman in the movie felt so alone in her ennui despite the obvious solidarity amongst them, and it made me think again of bell hooks and how her definition of feminism is centered on sisterhood. A couple weekends ago when tripping slightly and walking from Kate's apartment to the Chairman Mao DJ set I was feeling alone for the first time in a long time. The pavement was gleaming from the rain and I watched as Kate and Shalma walked ahead of me, so visually alike and with a palpable kinship that I felt I couldn't share in by virtue of undeniable facts about my life: I lived in Manhattan, I worked a corporate tech job. I thought, Who will I really be able to talk to when I'm sad?