Fight the algorithms
that tell us what to do,
to make us predictable,
unoriginal and bankable.

Have you witnessed how
increasingly bland and homogenous
our lives are becoming?

Choose freedom
avoid the diaries of commerce
that riff on the ubiquity of apps

resist the reductive tropes
of our published and circulated,
perspective customer identities.

Fight the algorithms
with their embedded backlot
familiarity, built around class
and consumerism.

Try to understand the
vague, inscrutable and
purposefully circuitous.

Or stop overthinking
and embrace liberating surrender.
That’s the path I’ve chosen.
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Broken People by The Narcissist Cookbook
Talk Down Dijon

Outside it’s breezy and twenty degrees
in here the air feels humid and still
the floor’s elbow-to-elbow and I guarantee
dance for 40 minutes and the heat can ****

I left the dance floor
fully drenched
we drank at the bar
til our thirst was quenched

I peeled off my overshirt
but that didn’t work
I still felt flushed and sweaty
a guy motioned me to dance
but I wasn’t ready

Then someone opened the door
the icy air rushed in—I didn’t flinch
It felt like heaven—I wanted more
dance guy was back, the entitled prince

the 05611 is full of pushy guys
when they want something
they try and try and try
I pretend I can’t hear them
cause the music is bumping

Friday nights are such a release
a time for fun and controlled caprice
but it’s also a hot-point time to do-a-prendy
when you say no, divers can turn unfriendly

I’m not Julie Andrews—I’m not offended
It’s kind of a complement, I’m just not interested
If you can take a yes, then you should take a no
I could be protecting you, for all you know, (******/aids)
so chill-out playas don’t be so gung-**.
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Songs for this:
Hit My Heart by BOY
Cake By The Ocean by DNCE

Over the holidays, I was watching Lisa’s sister little Leeza, she’s 14.
She has a rebellious fashion sense and a joyful innocence.
She’s still fearless too, and on-God, I hope she never loses that.

Too soon though—the disco’s coming to town—the world’s coming for her. It’s the same for all of us, I suppose, but in Lisa and my cases, covid shut it all down.

It’s a rite of passage—the shoes, the bodycon dresses and the makeup. Those carry negative connotations, I get it, but there’s an excitement too, about finally getting to dress like an adult—a woman—in one of those bodycon, cut-out dresses.

I know the pressures on women and their bodies, but at her age, it's not all stress, cattiness and comparisons—it’s just innocent teen fun. She and her posse can take hours just dressing and doing their make-up—together. It’s probably the best part of their night.

Leeza’s dad (Michael) saw the little group of teens, all dolled-up and launched, like a SpaceX Starship. Pacing the living room, he quietly opined to Karen (her mom), “I don’t want her going out dressed like that.”

Karen was right there with him to cool things down, “No, ***, at her age, it’s about self-expression, learning and girl bonding—these connections are really important in the girl-world.”

I’m not worried about Leeza’s physical safety. These girls are watched over and gently curated. Their every movement is orchestrated and security escorted—hell, Hamas couldn’t get to them—much less some gropey boy.

There’s just this new awareness these days of how unhappy some people are—and a lot of them are teen girls. I wouldn’t want to see Leeza mired in the sad, brain-draining social media pressure and self-esteem traps.
Teenhood is scary—I was feelin’ positively parental.

Then I looked at Lisa, and I was reminded that they’ve done all this before, and she has a big-sister, role-model too.
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Songs for this:
Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker
Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan

While we’re renaming things,
can we please rename “United States” to “AAAmerica.”
I know I’m tired of scrolling to the bottom of every pop-down country list.
And ARE we united? Really, even a little?

That awkward moment when you’re already said, “what?” three times,
and you still have no idea what the conversation is about, but you can tell,
by bouncy and eager expressions, that the topic is loaded. Never sit at the end of a table, dining halls get noisy.

Has a song ever been your safe place?
What if it keeps you warm in a storm,
by getting you up and movin’?

Oh, what about the inimitable effect of a handsome guy?
Now, I don’t engage in decorous affections,
but ‘Cute Soccer Guy’ (I’ve mentioned him before),
wakes us up, by just showing up, oh, we play it loose,
and all, but he makes all of our hearts beat a little faster.

P.S. Don’t you love the AI tool that lets us scrub others out of our pix?
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A song for this:
Twiggy Twiggy by [re:jazz]
The Trouble With Boys by Little Eva

Yay!! There’s snow on Science Hill.
Finally - snow, I love it. Cold, I love it.

Science says men evolved from apes.
Maybe I evolved from polar bears
or those abominable snow people
—yeti—that no one can photograph.

You can’t just reject that outright,
say the odds are minuscule,
just because it’s new and edgy.
I mean, where’s your science—
your unbiased, clinical perspective?

We could end up in the National Geographic.
This kind of story is very much their aesthetic.
I can provide lots of material—I have baby photos
and I’m not uncomfortable about the pressure.

Maybe it’s time to put your voice out there.
The world always needs the comfort of new voices.
You could influence social media—everyone wants THAT.
This is a buffalo, a skibidi, blessing in disguise.
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Songs for this:
Young And Dumb by The Bird and the Bee
Unlike me by Kate Havnevik

It’s hard to meet someone serious at college. Everyone’s busy,
self-centeredly grinding away at their dreams. So much so that
people tell you to not even try (especially as a freshman).

I was mostly at ease with myself—as a freshman. I had an
excellent skincare routine—it was downright luxuriant, and it
kept me going, through that romantically baren and lonely year.

But we humans hope—we buy lotto tickets to dream on—though we know the awful math. We Gen Z’s seem to have our own unique brand of loneliness, born of covid and Internet-age experience.

My romantic expectations, sophomore year, were low—ok, unmeasurable.

Looking around was depressing. There were socially awkward STEM majors, jocks, frat men (sure the world’s laid-out just for them) and ‘CSOM Bros" (business majors more interested in parlaying my Grandmère’s money than me) and the elusive, emotionally reserved, ‘regular guys.’

But the unexpected can happen. We all know how crowded campus coffee shops are—the students move in and out in tides as noisy as the real, salty ocean. And then there you were, a rumpled, 25-year-old doctoral student—from another world—asking to share my table.

The loudest thing in that room was your sense of stillness. You seemed to be a new and distinct species, and as we talked, you seemed to somehow smooth my anxious edges. After a few meets, the thought, ‘I really like this guy,’ seemed to have its own gravity.

We somehow managed to thread the ‘too busy to care’ dynamic, and as time went by, you helped me channel my absurd, fiery, pastel-painted, first-love, early-twenty girlhood heat into something longer lasting, deep and authentic. Congratulations! It’s been two years.

Separating now, would be like removing the salt from the sea.
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Songs for this:
Playing House by Kudu
So Much Mine by The Story
After Last Night by The Revlons

My daddy—he once told me
don’t ever play with nuns
they’ll hit you with their rulers
it won’t be any fun

I snuck out of that prison
and now I’m on the run

Once freed from that schoolhouse
I sunbathed in the sun
I stayed out late, I went on dates
looking out for number-one

When I think of what I went through
of all the tired repressive lies
I keep running wise, in slick disguise
my purpose is renewed

Don’t ever let ‘em tell you
you can’t have any fun
If they preach that hackneyed drivel
grab some things and run
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Songs for this:
Cold Heart (PNAU Remix) by Elton John & Dua Lipa
I'm Still Standing by Elton John