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The social experiment is now over

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The social experiment is now over

WHAT I DID Monday, December 15 Woke up to snow feeling self possessed, self determined, and ill, and so I’ll hold onto this for a while, I think. Everyone keeps on telling me what I should do next, to which I say: o.k. Everything is kind of medium levels of certain, these days.

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WHAT I DID Monday, December 15 Woke up to snow feeling self possessed, self determined, and ill, and so I’ll hold onto this for a while, I think. Everyone keeps on telling me what I should do next, to which I say: o.k. Everything is kind of medium levels of certain, these days. Lying on the floor last night at the after party and I could tell that people’s visions were kind of starting to spin but I have needed, personally, to be more solid about it. I have needed, personally, to keep my own vision clear. You can look at her face and see she’s not a good writer , the boys were saying, last night, about someone, can’t remember who. Can we just talk about pretty girls who are good writers?, the boys were asking the group. I wasn’t fishing for compliments. Just kind of sitting there watching everything because my only real goal here is to be observational and not prescriptive. There’s not a role to be filled if you want God to love what you do , someone was saying. If you want the angels to sing you have to eat the script. Angels weren’t really on the mind as I drifted home, more consumed with things like self improvement and hand selecting a new addiction and a caution to the wind sort of impulse. Potions washed up at my doorstep this morning. Sparkling ICEE water and Advil and fever chills which come as blessings when one reads them as signs. Anyways, magical blue hour snowy dusk over Washington Square Park on the way uptown tonight, and since everything changed this summer or really three days ago in a way that is true, I have started to imagine something else. The Christmas party was in an apartment around the corner from Saint Vincent Ferrer Roman Catholic Church off Lexington Ave, last night. The apartment was open-concept with big windows and a pine tree and roaring fire, poached salmon, chocolate chip cookies and a beautiful bed on which everyone lay their beautiful coats. I wanted to stay there forever, as I always do in places that I like. I wore the Cinq-a-Sept holiday dress and the big wool coat I’ve been donning for weeks now, and I wore pearls, too, which is something new. Everything was slippery and bright and better and kind of like a dream, but I don’t want to get complacent. When I moved to New York, I lived in Yorkville where I could not sleep and where the streets were too muted and it made me uneasy. In the Lower East Side, in an apartment I hated, I was given a whole new life, and there, nothing was muted and everything was windy and cold. The wind made me kind of crazy, as wind tends to do. I was airlifted out of that apartment, ultimately, which I suppose is what I’ve kind of been praying for, here, in a space that is my own and good except for; the bed faces a fluorescent hallway and there is no room for a couch or even really a trash can. I’m seeking clarity for kind of selfish but partly religious reasons. And I’m sick of writing about the things I own or once did. On the end of the year; it is kind of pointless to say anything at all when things were fast then slow then impossible to recall, and all of this is just to say that I hope I’ve been sincere. Almost midnight, and so I go to Caffe Reggio, where things are small and precise and decked in holiday cheer, cozier even than the hotel lobby. Resolutions are: everything beautiful. And more stories that flow like water, obviously. The night is crisp and cool and I care to be extremely alert. Tuesday, December 16 Celia left the scene because she was good at noticing when things became embarrassing, and I resonated with the principle but still could not help but to hover. Nothing was embarrassing, anymore, Matthew reminded me, because everything was dead in the water and then it wasn’t and then it was and now, he suspected a new wave. Last year at this time I had to beg girls to come to parties , Matthew sighed. He gestured around the very crowded and warm bar and towards the people standing and sitting in circles and filtering in and out and the elderly Italian birthday party in the backroom. This is nothing like last year , he insisted. In the Financial District, everything was FAKE. Fake little streets and old-timey bars and I only realized the facade of it all because I walked by a Christmas Tree and the sign at its edges sent the whole charade tumbling down. EVEN THE CHRISTMAS TREE IS FAKE, the sign said. In the freezing cold, the most freezing day of the year so far, Celia and I got burgers at a small and new seafood spot. Celia wore three pops of red (bag, tights, gloves), and I wore all black. After the reading, where the stories were good and where more and more people kept materializing as if out of dust by the door, I bought three books and then sat on what seemed to be a bike rack in the back of a van driving towards the Lower East Side. Ducked my head so it wouldn’t slam into the van ceiling on every bump. The views became Real again, driving out of toy-house-town simulation FiDi, and then the bridges were glowing and the streets were full of snow and I was writing on my phone, kind of just humming to myself and mostly just saying the same things in my head over and over and over again; everything clear and everything sweet. Cold and windy winter where the elements make me kind of lose my mind. Sober minded mania. I am drawn to these kinds of things. The thing about this winter is that everyone has been going crazy. Me first, but then I learned how to put a stop to it. Sophia gave me a white rose at the Marlton Hotel in the morning, and then I found it kind of crumpled in the recesses of my bag. Petals floating everywhere and we’d moved to a different bar by then, somewhere kind of velvety and sleek and my friends and I were the only people there. Matthew was talking about people who fabricate enemies out of neutral acquaintances who just didn’t want to be their friends. A sad sort of thing, but you can’t feel too bad about someone who decides to turn evil. Dimes Square was a two year operation to get [redacted] laid , Matthew was saying. The experiment is now over. The social experiment is now over, and now you can all go home. Wednesday, December 17 I have decided to take the rest of the winter floating and soaring. Orange leaves turning brown outside the open window. Little gold watch and swan and cross and green Dartmouth Tercentenary tile and white Lake Neuchatel winter landscape postcard propped against the windowsill. So, if clarity is the thing that is most important above all, then you know what has to give. I will play “Garden Botanum” and “Come Undone” and “When Autumn Leaves” and everything by Dougie Mcclean and watch as things become crisper and more into focus. It’s important to only make a promise once and then keep it. It’s important to not be so vague about all of it going forward. Very precise and very discerning. That can be what a winter is like. I watch the light and shadows shift and shudder off my walls and bad-feng-shua hallway for some hours. I walk to the gym and I feel normal. Water and hyperpop music and images of faces sheathed in light or maybe armor all around. The television is falling off its hinges at the gym, and so the mantras on the walls are all skewed. COMMIT TO SOMETHING. REACT TO NOTHING. I’ve been culling mantras from the internet. I’ve been making lists of all my friends and everything kind I have to say about them. I’ve been making lists of all the ways I’ve maybe wronged others but have never been wronged myself. Sitting in a basement that’s illuminated blue watching films last night. Sitting in a conversation pit all day and all night for most moments of this week. Sitting under holly and cranberry and splintering wood and dried wasps nests and flowers and everything sparkling and snowy outside, soon, next week. There’s a few more dinners before that. The last days of gluttony but everyone seems over it. Sitting around dimly lit tables and everyone keeps talking about the ways we used to be. We used to wake up with crumbling Prada purses at the foot of our beds, overflowing with candy and mascara and all the things we didn’t remember stealing the night before. We used to be at the gym before dawn. I used to get along with people who viewed things as linear. I’ve always known the happiest days of my life to be exactly what they are, even as they are happening. Slipping away. There are other things, too. What do you think your new addiction will be? , Celia asks me. Something unrelated to consumption , I tell Celia. Something kind of manic and empty ?, Celia asks me. It’s not so bad to think about what you want in strictly material terms , I tell Celia Thursday, December 18 THINGS I PROCURED THIS YEAR IN STRICTLY MATERIAL TERMS - Silk long sleeve Ganni top - Already dated Ganni shoes (stupid. should have purchased years ago and never did. should not have purchased now) - Royal jelly - Real wasps nest - 2 new jobs - An ex-boyfriend - One plus year of live diary - Studio apartment of my own - Boundless Energy - Copies of Nourishing Traditions and Nutrition for Women and The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book (found at the free library one month before Health Gossip affirmed recommendation. Blessings come my way, etc) - Copies of Little Way of Saint Therese of Lisieux and The Interior Castle by Teresa de Avila - Perfect pearl earrings - Perfect Ciel Chapman little gold dress (similar: here ) (but it’s not that similar because I found the best one) - Many hours acquired in perfect hotel lobby - Current Body LED Face Mask - One life all at once Friday, December 19 The West Side Highway is cold and clear and empty driving home, like everyone is already gone and this night will be the last dredges of things as they were. The taxi driver is playing soft rock and the barges on the Hudson look like little houses from a distance. New York in December is like a fairytale, because most everyone leaves for real life and then you are reminded, in the lost week of the year, that none of this was ever exactly real life. There’s a red sports car doing donuts in the empty lot of Pier 76. There are three American flags blowing in the wind. Every December feels almost inconceivably distant from the one before. It’s been this way for a few years, at least, now. Mostly, this makes me feel self satisfied, and sometimes, this makes me feel sick. The wind has been crazy the past few days. It’s like a wind tunnel, specifically, driving through midtown. The river is churning. The wind is making everyone insane. I wake up to yellow overhead lights left on overnight, and they look particularly warm cast against the winter sun that filters through my windows. No curtains. In my dream, I was sitting in a Starbucks somewhere foreign, waiting on a bench next to two girls whom I did not know. The coffees were taking a while, and so the baristas kept on offering up shared bread. Something to compensate. The loaves of bread were huge and warm. The barista was throwing them overhand over the counter. The bread was soaring through the air and then landing on the floor. The other girls around me were scooping up the loaves and devouring them with their hands. They were breaking the bread in half and then tearing off a morsel for me. That landed on the floor , I was saying. Everyone shrugging. Looks of disgust. I always dream in mundanities. Wearing athleisure and mixing potions this morning, like matrixyl and Argireline and Evian water full of bubbles and microplastics and wind through the open window blowing all the dust around. I watched all the energy come roaring back for each and every false start these past few months, but it’s been a pause in the ebb and flow, now. I like when things are fascinating. Three books from the party are lying on my glass table in the center of my floor. The Champ is Here and Season of the Rat and a book called Alligator , all bought from some place called CASH 4 GOLD. Because the glass table is so big, and the room is so small, the table creates a disproportionate presence. I wonder what will change, once the glass table is gone. Bundled up and then drifted outside to procure a celsius at the bodega and now I am home, again. Listening to Kali Uchis play off my tinny computer speakers from my playlist that reminds me of hot dry desert air and CRYSTALS. Making plans that fifty-percent chance I will then cancel. Trying to finish my Florida, Massachusetts story but the tone requires a kind of gothic and spooky vibe that I am entirely unable to access right now. Everything at Los Angeles Apparel is five dollars, and so I spend the afternoon being gluttonous online. Purchasing a white tube top and a black fine jersey long sleeve and two a-line skirts and some shimmering silver earrings. Purchasing a red circle scarf for Iris, too, because she left her brand new red circle scarf in the basement at my brand new job, and I said I would find it for her but couldn’t. Unsure if I will tell her I have found the scarf, or admit to procuring a new one online. I think I will just hand it over and say nothing. Celia calls, and I tell her about cleaning my windows and live blogging my day. Careful , Celia says. It’s a good idea to talk about things like architecture, or strange observations. It is probably not a good idea to start live blogging your days. WHAT YOU SHOULD DO - It’s the most program-less week of the year, and so I’m taking a week off the event call. Watch The Shop Around The Corner and make Sabayon - In the New Year, I will be programming downstairs at Night Club 101 . I am booking readings, screenings, parties, artist talks, performances, after parties, and more. Pitch me your ideas - chloe@nightclub101.com - For paid subscribers interested in getting ahead of ticketed events or planning down the line, I’m starting the Collected Agenda Roundup. Events and miscellaneous recommendations will go in here as they appear, for the weeks and months ahead. Selected events will still appear in free weekly roundups. Happy Holidays <3

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