MoonJuice
Article
MoonJuice is a recurring brand in the Collected Agenda archive, appearing 1 times across 1 issues between November 05, 2025 and November 05, 2025. The archive places it in contexts such as “cocoon myself alone with MoonJuice potions”. It most often appears alongside 220 Bogart St, 99 Minutes or Less, Alex Da Corte.
Metadata
- Category: Brands
- Mention count: 1
- Issue count: 1
- First seen: November 05, 2025
- Last seen: November 05, 2025
Appears In
Related Pages
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- 220 Bogart St (1 shared issues)
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- 99 Minutes or Less (1 shared issues)
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- Alex Da Corte (1 shared issues)
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- Alex Delany (1 shared issues)
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- Alice Bailey (1 shared issues)
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- Alyssa Vingan (1 shared issues)
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- Amelia (1 shared issues)
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- Amtrak (1 shared issues)
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- Ana Howe Bukowski (1 shared issues)
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- Andrew Durbin (1 shared issues)
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- Andy Warhol (1 shared issues)
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- Anika Jade Levy (1 shared issues)
External Links
Source Context
Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.
WHAT I DID Sunday, October 26 Pale light through the small glass windows over which I have not bought curtains. Craving solitude and cleanliness and esoteric healing and then I get it; cocoon myself alone with MoonJuice potions and BlueLand Cleaning Supplies and three purple sweaters and four cream sweaters and all the silence in the world, courtyard facing windows, even the fan and the air conditioner are off and so the circumstances are exactly as I said I wanted. Tucked myself away to think about things here, and now the silence is starting to pool around me. Now, I am starting to feel upset. Chronic discontentment. There is really nothing more irredeemable than this. You wake up in a small room with a faux thatched roof and white sheets and a gold cross and minimal art and a sense that there is no air left. This is all right. The streets are still early morning empty. The shower is sparkling clean. You imagine that on the other side of these walls there are infinite other apartments, all better than this. I’ve been remixing the same story for a while now. I’ve been getting worse at writing and better at being by myself. The stranger and I walked through Washington Square Park where the autumn has come and swept the air muted and clean. Red berries crunch underfoot, and the grass has died and dried hazy and the buildings are brick and brown and the puddles are brown, too, though a brown of a brighter kind. The puddles reflect and remember things, the stranger says. The stranger is very dull like this. Like to observe something is to understand it. I’ve been getting better at clarity and worse at avoiding hedonism without being a bore. I sought forgiveness that I’ll never get. Now, it is time to seek other things: Living in a room that is sparkling clean