Sorry I missed your birthday!
I was too busy learning how to love myself!
Over the years, I’ve developed a strange habit of not messaging people on Instagram. I call it strange seeing as it’s meant to be a social media app. The doomscrolling and liking stories at will comes natural but the one form of genuine connection on the app — i.e. exchanging words with each other — was lost on me for some time. Someone’s birthday? Like. Major goal or milestone? Make a mental note. Someone sends me a reel? Emoji react. It’s not that I don’t care or don’t want to say something but when I’m looking at Instagram, words become devoid of meaning and I feel like I’m meant to be watching a slideshow.
I’ve started texting my friends more. My high school best friends group chat have probably gotten anywhere from five to ten texts about how I think new Dodgers pitcher Tanner Scott needs to be shot out of a cannon like a Looney Tunes character. They don’t always respond but they need to know. Two great friends who I met through running, one of whom is training for an early fall marathon, have been bombarded for weeks now by my half-facetious rambling about how all running and pain is good. (It sucks sometimes but that’s besides the point.)
In addition to not interacting on Instagram, I also developed an odd habit for saving an unnecessary amount of posts. There’s no way to wax poetic about it: there’s way too many damn posts in my Saved folder. Memes, funny comics, sports highlights, infographics, food or drinks I wanna try — it’s all in there. The worst part? In photo sets, I thought it bookmarked the slide you saved; they don’t. Obviously that hasn’t stopped me from doing it. I have at least done myself the service of creating a folder titled “Workouts” for any stretches, exercises, or running-related things I might find useful.
Instead of locking away the digital Library of Alexandria in a folder never to be seen by another pair of eyes, I’ve started sending these memes to my friends. No more holding on to miscellaneous brainrot and letting it poison my brain. Instead, I’m spreading the love and sharing the damage with others. It hadn’t occurred to me that my actual, literal friends would share my sense of humor and they might even appreciate that I’m thinking of them throughout the day. Sometimes when I send them I feel like I’m being annoying but I’ve chosen not to care. It’s pretty insignificant but it’s something. It makes me feel more normal.
You might have noticed, “Holy shit, this fucking guy hasn’t written anything in ages.” It’s true. I haven’t written shit in months. Even this whole thing up to this point is being freestyled and minimally edited. I’m not sure what it is. I was absorbed by work for the past four years and ended up leaving my job after realizing how little progress I made both in my career and personal development. I’m starting at the bottom of the ladder at a different coffee company but I’ve been more excited by it all. The newness. New places, new faces, new routines, smells, sounds, tastes, feelings. I’m not quite sure yet where the motivation is taking me. Perhaps the newness has reinvigorated my desire to share, and thus, to write. Maybe I was suppressing it and I found it again. I’m not sure yet.
The nervousness is new. I haven’t been this nervous, to go to work or to write, in a long time. But that’s just it, it’s new and it’s exciting. At first, I thought it would be kind of embarrassing for me, a 29 year-old who just got engaged, to be nervous to walk into a service setting with people who are now younger than me or to write to strangers on Substack. But that’s just it, it’s new. You have to let yourself feel those feelings. A eureka moment maybe: maybe the lack of nerves I felt at work the past four years was a sign that I was never really enjoying it to begin with.
I’m trying out this new thing where I write. (Read that again in a snarky, ironic but, underneath it all, sincere tone.) The past few months, I’ve been a dedicated reader of Meditations in an Emergency, the weekly musings of Rosecrans Baldwin, one of my favorite writers. High praise considering I do not read and am borderline functionally illiterate! I have grown fond of the conciseness of his weekly micro-essays, as he calls them. I’ve also been keen on Fran Hoepfner’s work, appropriately titled Fran Magazine. I quite like her diaristic form where she shares a lot of her food and media consumption. I feel like I’m reading a letter from a friend. I’ve always been the kind of friend who enjoys catching up rather than being in constant communication every day.
Finally, Clare from Famous & Beloved wrote the literal most concise thing that specifically *I* needed to hear:
Write because you want to and talk because you want to and people will see and hear it, eventually.
So, inspired by a lot of things going on in my life but especially these three writers, I’m trying to write just cause. I can’t lie, a part of that is also feeling like Kevin is figuratively kicking my ass a little by getting his literary weight up again.
I don’t wanna promise a format, length, or schedule for this because, as seasoned ybnbo readers know, consistency in that sense has not been our strong suit. I will definitely try to write! For now, enjoy these micro-essays. I also plan on ending these things with at least three things I’ve been enjoying recently.
Three Things (or More) for June 6th
HAIM, “Relationships”
I’ve been listening to HAIM as long as they’ve been putting out music but strangely, it never registered that they are actually one of my favorite bands. I’m mixed on the singles they have released in the buildup to their fourth album I quit; love “Everybody’s trying to figure me out” but don’t particularly care for “Down to be wrong” or “Take me back.” For now, let’s focus on the first single. “Relationships” is one of HAIM’s best songs: beautiful, bouncy, fun. That top line melody is gorg-gorg-goooooorgeous. Honestly? It’s the song of the summer.
Season two of The Rehearsal
SPOILERS AHEAD. READ OF YOUR OWN VOLITION.
It takes some effort for any TV or film production to be as incisive as The Rehearsal has been. I think about the slog of vaguely satirical media we were bombarded post-Parasite. Some real stinkers like The Menu or Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery. Having sat with season two of The Rehearsal, I have no problem saying it: Nathan Fielder finally made a show that perfectly captures the essence of our deeply fucked up society in its current state.
THE SPOILERS ARE STARTING NOW. DON’T BE MAD AT ME!
Season one definitely commes with the same energy as Nathan For You. Whiplash is the name of the game with anything involving Fielder and The Rehearsal was not an exception. The arc with the woman wanting to practice parenthood was a funny thought exercise where the reality turned out to be a long, convoluted joke that overstayed its welcome. The ending with the kid actor being kind of fucked up seemed unintentional and like a oddly convenient punchline for a gray-area reality show. Season two contains a lot more intentionality and it manages to dial down the ridiculousness yet ramp up the absurdity.
I’d love to sit here and explain it to you but honestly, you need to watch it. Fielder manages to tell the same foundational joke as season one — i.e. wasting a bunch of HBO’s money not just to tell jokes but literally physically make them while also literally wasting the money (hello?) — while also unpacking why airline crashes are occurring more frequently and how being diagnosed (or undiagnosed) as autistic can affect pilots. It’s a lot. People need to stop making We Live In A Society™️-ass media but Nathan Fielder is alright in my book.
The brunch at Woon Pasadena
Previously, I was not super into Woon, a family-style Chinese restaurant geared towards younger crowds with its modern space and decent wine selection. A friend started working for their newer Pasadena location, notably larger than the original in Filipinotown while also boasting a new brunch menu. Buddy, that shit was goodt.
Pictured before you: the pork chop sandwich, a perfectly packed “bacon n’ eggs” fried rice, and chicken congee. A bit messy while eating but loved the construction of this sandwich. Pork is tasty, bao is great, and really like how the pickles are ribbons instead of sliced regularly. Soy onion jam also slapped. Congee is solid but liked how the rice was more textured, as opposed to it being all mushy like normal. Fried rice here hides in plain sight but it might be one of the best I’ve had in LA: perfectly salty, smoky and the bits of cabbage introduce the right amount of freshness without being intrusive.
To be clear, I think the dinner is good but there’s definitely better Chinese food. You’d be going for the vibes or the wine. The brunch menu makes it a place worth going out of your way for.
While we’re here and I’m mentioning people whose work I’ve been into, Kate from Bite Sized is one of those people. If you’re not from LA, you might not care but she’s often documenting whatever is hip and happening in the $$-$$$ restaurant, third wave coffee, natural wine bar, and brand pop-up world. Somewhere between middlebrow and highbrow sensibilities. I find that she has discerning taste but journalistic consideration.
welcome back Emilio happy belated!!!