zebulon

roses are moments of joy and of cheer buds are the good things that await us next year thorns are the bad times where it goes all wrong stems are the things that went on way too long a leaf is a fun fact that’s amusing enough pollen is the sexy and sensual stuff soil is a nurturing moment of sorts a twig is that which got cut too short the end of the poem has finally arrived a petal is something that left you surprised petal (1) time passed at conflicting speeds twig (1) summer soil (2) that time i felt weird being at home alone and i was told to imagine that i was housesitting for eugene levy; binge watching episodes of jeopardy with mom and dad pollen (3) my first hotel room one night stand; nipple play; The Threesome leaf (5) my mom has been using the term “gatekeeper” this whole time; henry viii had vi wives; milk duds were named as such because the confectioners just couldn‘t get them to be perfect spheres; you can’t set up recurring investments on ETFs; survey data has shown that, statistically speaking, the average “digital nomad” is a 33 year old white, american, heterosexual, non-religious, non-vegetarian software developer man stem (8) bad bouts of back pain; cupping marks; screen time; amtrak; the workweek; bibi’s reign; the line at da club; time-to-climax thorn (13) the patagonia vest recession; new york city construction; work stress; family stress; guilt; shame; lethargy; the worst kind of home repairs; bye bye abortion; the fallen freestanding fish tank; being the grown up; the B48; self conscious on the subway bud (21) big brother season 25; oaxaca; berlin; new domain interests; saying less of: “very”; “really”; “so”; “um”; “like”; “amazing”; consuming more hot chocolate; creme brulee; rice pudding; eggplant; halloumi; malabi; feeling less cringe; learning new languages; improving old languages; becoming a better communicator; saying “hello” rose (34) tuesdays; puzzles; pilates; new friends; old friends; being topless; being in the water; being topless in the water; randy; the apartment; mccarren park; washington square park; free salsa lessons; free love; lentil soup; woodstock; budapest; backgammon; comfy sneakers; hot pink juicy tracksuit; the bar mitzvah; a glass of wine here and there; harry potter; the miracle of halloween candy; drugs; collaging; crypto winter; sam’s home goods; lil sis nora; lasik; the goat farm; red hair; general stability; just the right amount of control

there once was a party so random and odd unremarkable in most ways. but in others? oh my god. the boys from the village all drunkenly sang as i chugged loads of water, too anxious to hang. i gravitated to the balcony with the quieter crew to discuss startups and pitches and the things that nerds do. silly me to forget -- i’m not any ol’ date the elephant in the room, a gossip too great. one person in particular gave me a glance filled with judgment towards R's and my strange romance. but to be honest everyone else was p chill with me being the other woman atop of this hill. i felt a little special, a little off, a little cute but above all i was low hanging fruit. what an eve in jerusalem, the holiest of holies am i in a thruple? holy guacamoles...

- "idk i might be wrong" - macdougal; new york in a nutshell - marry the williamsburg bridge, fuck the brooklyn bridge, kill the manhattan bridge - when you're crossing the bridge at sunset and there's a peachy gradient on one side and sex-on-the-beach vibes on the other - but actually what is the deal with the 6th ave subway tunnel incense guy - nostalgic tunes of the week brought to you by fountains of wayne and chance the rapper - i saw a cockroach climb up the leg of a table in sweet chick :( - marry newark, fuck laguardia, kill jfk - scrapbooks for all! -  deans that i know:     - dean the local pitbull     - dean aka holdean aka how holden's name was mispronounced at graduation     - dean, nicki's since resigned trunk club stylist - dean boyer     - dean from the threesome - reality tv ranked     1) big brother (duh)     2) survivor     3) bachelor in paradise - reality tv notable mentions: married at first sight, are you the one, selling sunset, the bachelor(ette), the great british baking show, shark tank, jeopardy - where were YOU when you found out that your parents do wordle? - "smart girl!", the usps customer service guy told me :\ - the vibe of my apartment looks off with the orange flowers i got tonight

Fucking someone in public sets a funny tone for the relationship. I hadn’t had an orgasm in two weeks and so I climaxed within minutes, Rogier following shortly after. I wasn’t able to get to that point when I fucked Flo at that very same place two nights prior. Flo was born without foreskin, he told me. Rogier and I tried to converse after we satisfied each others’ needs but the music was loud and I couldn’t quite follow whether he was French or Dutch or German. “Do you code in Python?”, he asked. We stepped out together and he looked frazzled as I swiftly changed out of my underwear and into my normal clothes. On Wednesday I took the train up to his place and was pleasantly surprised to find him waiting for me at the station. Rogier’s home is beautiful. He gave me a massage with lavender oil and cooked me a decadent dinner. Sometimes when he gets home from a long night out he hugs the tree outside of his house. I met Rogier and his friends Pierre, David, and Lisa to play boules at the park on Saturday. I’m generally uncomfortable with learning new games from people I don’t already know because I’m embarrassed that my inevitably awful performance will lead them to conclude that I’m stupid. I could have done with a little bit less (okay, a lot less) PDA from Rogier. We took the train back up to his place and I started feeling paranoid because it was eerily silent and Rogier pointed out how empty the nearby highway looked. He made some comment about a horror movie and insisted we sit on the pier and drink wine by the lake. I obliged, but at this point was prepared for the worst. We watched swans floating across the water and my paranoia dwindled with the sunset. We smoked a joint and I washed Rogier’s dishes as me made us another delicious dinner. He picked a rose and some lavender from his garden and turned on the water for our bath. We alternated between sitting in the burning hot tub and cooling down on his porch, where we shared a long discussion about the shift in consciousness from childhood to adulthood and how life just isn’t quite as vivid now as it was back then. Rogier is a very sensual person. I find it lovely but simultaneously exhausting. The past eight months have been monumental for my sexuality.

My 1-star Google review of the Jewish Museum in Berlin: Incredible architecture and thoughtful portrayal of events leading up to the Holocaust as well as post-Holocaust aftermath. However, there is almost no attention given to the most violent and abhorrent moments of Jewish persecution in Europe. To me, this was the biggest disappointment out of many. The first floor is architecturally impeccable though the artifacts displayed are confusing, as they include a hodgepodge of items from after the war. I initially thought that perhaps I started at the wrong part of the museum. The Garden of Exile and Memory Void are not wheelchair accessible. Even KitKatClub is more inclusive to the physically disabled. On the second floor there is an exhibit with six pairs of headphones that play audio of Holocaust survivors’ stories, but the audio is exclusively in German and therefore impossible for non-German speakers to understand. A German tour group stood in front of a display case for ten minutes blocking everyone else’s view; when I politely asked the tour guide to make room for others he rudely responded “no.” It’s also worth mentioning that I was visibly but quietly crying at the time. This museum caters to Germans more than visitors from other countries. Furthermore, you are essentially forced to download an app to get insight into most of the exhibits but the app is buggy, difficult to navigate, and distracting from the overall experience. I imagine that older, less technically savvy folks are not able to fully engage with the contents of the museum. You can also hear everybody’s phone blasting the exhibit descriptions. Why not just offer headphones and physical audio guides? I witnessed adults and children alike giggling throughout the museum and mocking the Jewish music. There needs to be guidance on appropriate museum behavior. Make sure to supplement your time in Berlin with a visit to the Topography of Terror, the Holocaust Memorial, or Sachsenhausen Camp. The Jewish Museum is certainly worth a visit but please adjust your expectations accordingly.

It felt good to sleep in my bed last night. It's been a funny few days. Thursday 5/5 - I spent the morning working from my parents' home. My mom and I shared a salad at our favorite cafe and, after we parted ways, I stopped by the dispensary and continued to work from an outdoor bench. The last time I was home my mom casually announced one afternoon, "Oh by the way, I invited Joseph over for dinner tonight." My mom had been talking my ear off about Joseph ever since he babysat my five nephews last Summer. Joseph grew up in Ecuador, went to Israel for university, speaks fluent Hebrew, and is now getting his PhD at Northeastern in transit engineering -- my mom's dream boy other than the fact that he isn't Jewish. He by chance texted me while I was on the train to Boston and we made plans to go out with two of his friends, Melissa and Kevin. We met at a hilariously tacky tiki bar that plays exclusively Reggaeton and the waiters gave us two free rounds of shots in honor of Cinco de Mayo. We migrated over to another bar in hopes of dancing. "I don't know many white girls who like to dance," said Kevin. I'm curious what kinds of white people he hangs out with. The dance floor was teeming with nineteen year olds and the shitty cover band was playing hits such as Vanessa Carlton's A Thousand Miles and that song from Shrek. We were disappointed but quickly reinvigorated when we discovered the basement level of the venue, a genuinely fun dance floor. I wasn't attracted to Joseph before but he was very sexy to dance with, which is an immediate turn on for me. He spun me around and guided my hips and kissed my cheek when we said goodbye. The night was magical. Friday 5/6 - I went to see John, my psychiatrist, in person for the first time in over a year. It felt so good to feel so good somewhere I had previously felt so bad. John was eager to share that he will be able to prescribe me MDMA beginning in January. After work, I went to Boston University finance department's end of year celebration. After 43 years and 1 semester, my dad finally retired from teaching. The event was one of those situations where you realize your parents have a whole life without you. All these strangers shared funny anecdotes about my dad and it was heartwarming. Later, I felt like I had to hang out with my friend Netanya because I'm going to be a bridesmaid at her wedding next May and I didn't come to Boston for her "Bridesmaid Dinner." When she told my parents that her wedding is taking place at the Science Museum I gasped in awe. This was very awkward because she said that I definitely should have known that already. Oops! It was also uncomfortable when she asked me how Dan is doing and I had to answer in front of my parents, who had an intense fight with him three weeks ago and haven't spoken to him since. This is how they learned that Dan is coming to the US next week. After Netanya left I went to Joseph's apartment to hang out with him, Kevin, and Melissa again but things took a turn for the worse after Melissa's friends came over. Kevin was wearing Joseph's yamaka and announced to the group, "Oh, I'm not Jewish, I'm just wearing this for fun." The friends uncomfortably introduced themselves and Kevin said that he definitely wasn't going to remember any of their names. "Especially yours," he pointed at Kanaijah. My anxiety turned up one notch with each of his microaggressions throughout the night. Furthermore, during our ten person game of Uno, Kevin kept saying things like "Are you high as fuck or what!!!" and Joseph laughingly asked me "Is there too much THC in there for you?" There's nothing worse than people who don't smoke weed yet narrate the whole experience. I sat in my paranoia for a bit before hastily leaving without really saying goodbye. I felt guilty later because Joseph has a crush on me and I didn't say bye to Melissa, who I genuinely like. I made the last T home and later learned that Joseph tried to catch up with me only to see the train disappear into the horizon. Saturday 5/7 - My mom's mom left behind some jewelry after she passed away. I spent the morning perusing through the collection with my mom and choosing a couple pieces for me to take. We sorted through the pile of rings, bracelets, broaches, charms, watches, necklaces, and earrings (including the clip-on variety), first separating them by type then style. It's been over five years since Savta Ida died but it's easy for me to remember what she looked like in most of her clothes. Because I wasn't going to be home on actual Mother's Day, mom, dad, and I went to brunch at this restaurant that their dead but very glamorous friend frequented. I requested hot sauce with my eggs. "Which do you want, Frank's or Tabasco?" the older waitress asked me. "Tabasco," I told her. "That's hot," she said. I boarded the Amtrak to Springfield where Micah, my pal from high school, picked me up. We rode to his home in Northampton, got high with his partner Becca, and aimlessly walked around the fancy cheese and wine store. We roasted a whole fucking chicken and had a conversation about weed where Becca told Micah that they feel uncomfortable about how large of a role weed plays in their relationship. "Thanks for telling me that, babe." We all cuddled on their tiny couch and watched their pet snails slither around the terrarium. Becca and Micah wanted me to cuddle with them and the threesome vibes were very strong. I thought Micah was hot shit in high school but the thought of kissing him now makes me queasy. On the other hand, Becca is hot and I would have certainly made out with them if Micah had not been around. It was a funny, awkward moment when we made our ways to our separate bedrooms. Sunday 5/8 - I misgendered Becca over breakfast. The youth group that Micah works at was throwing their annual performance and fundraiser event so Becca and I gave him some space in the morning. We sat at a cafe outdoors where someone asked us, "Are you Smith students?" This seemed odd to me but Becca admitted that the odds of two young lady-looking people in Northampton being Smith students is quite high. When helping Micah set up for the event, someone introduced themselves to me as Jordan. "I'm a mindfulness director," he announced. After much probing I learned this means he teaches yoga and meditation to high school students. I asked him how he manages interacting with people all day and, in response, he pulled out a crystal necklace from inside his T-shirt. To him, this was an adequate explanation. Throughout the weekend Micah called me Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving. He said that in high school I reminded him of the mom from Mean Girls when I so nonchalantly let forty high schoolers go wild at my parents' house while they were out of town. The evening sexytime vibes returned when Becca and Micah questioned me at length about my sexuality. I think that deserves a blog post of its own. Micah began to talk about how the two of them upgraded to a fancier strapon but Becca quickly shut down that conversation. I misgendered Becca again and apologized. "I just want you to feel affirmed," I said. "I feel affirmed by you," they responded. I felt even more attracted to Becca that night and the three of us were even more physical than the night before. The goodbye was similarly awkward when I retreated to the guest room to sleep. Monday 5/9 - Becca and I worked from home and wandered into town to get BLTs for lunch. I was stuck in a one hour meeting but my team members and I texted in our Whatsapp group making fun of how hilariously bored we were. When Micah got back, the three of us made a big bowl of pasta and passed around a joint. Goodbyes are hard. Micah drove me to the Amtrak station where I ate Now and Laters and waited for my delayed train. Twenty minutes into the ride the train paused in the middle of the tracks due to "police activity in Berlin." Berlin is a city in Connecticut. I connected to the next train in New Haven and spent the whole ride trying to figure out if the woman seated across from me was indeed my coworker. I spotted the company logo on her backpack when we arrived at Penn Station. I made it home around midnight.

They say a dog knows a storm is coming based on senses alone. While I don't know if what they say is true, I have a similarly unconventional way of sensing when summertime is around the corner. It's called Kurt Vonnegut o'Clock. Once a year I recall Vonnegut's existence and scramble to read and re-read his greatest works.  I revived the hard drive on my Macbook Air yesterday and stumbled upon a file that I had completely forgotten about, "Leak.docx", last modified during the wee hours of one August 2015 night. I had been in Tel Aviv for over a month at that point yet purposefully chose to embrace the jet lag and indulge in the night owl novelty that I so devotedly avoided at school. I had my IUD inserted earlier that Summer and was going on two months of non-stop menstruation. Leak.docx wasn't about the leak in my uterine lining, however, but rather about the leak in my brain. That particular evening I decided to write a scholarly essay, citations and all, analyzing Breakfast of Champions and explaining how the book can teach us a thing or two about chaos and respect. KVoC is the most "like clockwork" occurrence in my life, especially in contrast with my menstrual period which has yet to reoccur since that very cursed episode. I don't remember the first KVoC but I do remember the shock and excitement of finding someone's else's words so frictionless to read, so deeply funny and astute.  If you haven’t watched Everything Everywhere All at Once I suggest you step away from this blog and do so. I had never seen a movie whose tempo matched the high speed parallel processing of mumbo jumbo that pulses through my skull. Yesterday in our 1:1 Stewart told me it was the best movie he had seen in the past five years. I admitted to him that my gut reaction is mild bitterness when someone says they loved the film. The movie reflected MY consciousness. How could someone relate to it just as much? Stewart seemed intrigued and said that the child-parent relationship and something something about apathy were the aspects that resonated with him the most. I forget the second thing he said because my brain was already racing ahead. This year was my first Harry Potter o’Clock. Obviously I had seen all the movies before but it had been a minute and I’m hoping it becomes my New Years Eve tradition. I was discussing the reunion special with Milena recently and I referred to Alan Rickman, the actor, as Snape, the character. In an effort to mitigate confusion we coined the REAL/FAKE/DEAD/ALIVE matrix. Snape is FAKE/DEAD and Rickman is REAL/DEAD (though I had to look him up again just now to be extra sure). One of the reasons I love Vonnegut so much is because he spans all four corners. The author is dead but the Vonnegut character in his stories is very much alive and unwell. KVoC isn’t mine. Everything Everywhere All at Once isn’t mine. It’s also Stewart’s and also everyone’s in similar but different ways. And that’s precisely what Leak.docx is all about. Yesterday I also recovered my final paper from Media Aesthetics, which I took during first year of college. In his review of my essay Professor Lee wrote, "Your thesis collapses under the weight of your misunderstanding." I’m glad I revived the hard drive.

Well, not literally everyone. But certainly more than half. This was going to be my first year not doing a single thing to honor Passover. I mentioned this to Dina on Thursday night who, like many others, found this blasphemous and extended an invite to her sister's seder. Dina's sister is really bubbly and fashionable and witty and she complimented my hair a lot. She's also Hasidic and a mother of five rowdy children who attend school in Yiddish. I was always under the impression that there are four sons: the wise one, the wicked one, the simple one, and the one who doesn't know how to ask questions. Last night I learned that in addition to the aforementioned four, there is a fifth son that straight up never showed up. I've been working on showing up more.  Not only are there five sons, but there are also five daughters: Who, What, Where, When, and Why (WWWWW), cousins of Parentheses, Exponents, Multiplication, Division, Addition, and Subtraction (PEMDAS), another recurring theme in my life. The Squeakquel. The SQL. Sometimes I ponder the five daughters before I show up. It's bad to think about too often but once in a while is fine. Everything in moderation, including moderation.  At its core, showing up is a vibe. On the surface? Merely a gerund. I show up to things because it will be a funny story later; there is food involved; I will feel relief afterwards; my friends will be there; my crush will be there; I will get to dance. I embrace my inner fuck-it-why-not, mother in law of Hot Girl Summer. I suffer from main character syndrome. I am my own inside joke. My favorite part of Passover is the song that you get to sing at the very end of the seder where you count from one to thirteen. This makes a lot more sense if you know the song. IYKYK. You had to be there! The song reminds me of my dad because he sings it very loudly and confidently each year. I caught myself feeling nostalgic during the song last night and that upset me because I am trying to save up my sentimentality for when the next tragic event occurs. These are things I think about as the youngest member of a nuclear family of six. I was forced to ask the Four Questions all the way through college as I was still the youngest person in the room. It's weird how some traumatic events make me remember more (e.g. a loved one's death) and others make me remember less (e.g. a psychotic episode). You know how at the end of a rave you can reliably find those couple of club kids bumbling about the dance floor after everyone else has already come down? That's what the end of a seder looks like at 2:30am. The night has gone through its full arc: the anticipation, the powerful beginning, the pedantic rituals, the climax of the meal and the slow crash that follows when you realize the seder continues after everyone has finished eating. I was a club kid last night. Five sons and five daughters. Eight nights. Ten plagues. Four glasses of wine. Six hours of Passover programming. I got Crocs last week but didn't wear them to Passover. I never got the memo.