My Sister Exiled Queens,
I’ve been writing you letters in my head since my last one but I’m always too tired to put it to paper, or seized with a sudden fear that you won’t want to read unless it’s OCCULT! OCCULT! OCCULT! IMPROVE YOUR LIVES YESTERDAY, SISTERS.
But that’s silly. Amanda Palmer doesn’t talk constantly about music and people still read her silly ass. I have to have faith that you will still want to read my silly ass even if I’m mostly dreaming right now.
Because I need to. If I’m just PRODUCING! PRODUCING! PRODUCING! I become a cow stuck in a gross factory, all hooked up to machines and still trapped staring out of someone else’s window. Pass.
Things I’ve been considering/doing:
I’ve taken up yelling French women again because I just can’t quit them. This has caused me to again ponder my slovenly eating habits. Now I know food is a sensitive subject. So if you don’t want to deal, just skip to the next bolded bit. I won’t be offended. So, I had tried Noom which is basically weight watchers 2.0 but I wasn’t getting anywhere with it. In fact, I was gaining weight. Reading the YFW books reminded me that I do have something in common with the French after all. I too don’t like being told what to do. It’s why I bomb at diets really bad, even moreso as I become less into being told what to do with age.
Plus diets are all, oh hey American! You shouldn’t have to give up anything ever or ever feel hungry! YFW are like, yeah no, fat stuff. Sometimes you will feel hungry and you can’t always get what you want. You are not entitled to desserts always or four glasses of wine every night. Suck it up. And I’m like, wow, YFW! That’s weirdly freeing! If it’s all just control and will (which frankly is also witchcraft), I can control myself because I’m pretty good at that in every other area of my life except food. So fuck you, food. You don’t own me! I own you. I’ve really been looking at my eating habits. Sometimes I will keep eating something even if I don’t like it much. I have a lot of weird Depression Era granddaughter baggage I’m untangling. I keep expecting my mother to jump out at me whenever I discard something that’s not enough to save/not worth finishing yelling at me about starving orphans. It just pains her so much to see food wasted that we go to some crazy lengths to never waste though Jow and I are horrible food wasters at home. But now! We have been working much harder to incorporate wilty veggies into soups and stews and being better refrigerator stewards, I guess. Looking at expiration dates, whatever. When we had a tiny bit more money, I learned that made us extravagant about saying fuck it about dinner and ordering take out until the fridge was a wasteland of left over take out and uncooked meals. But now we are slightly less moneyed while Jow does the RN program and we have our food in better order.
Also when I was really doing YFW management, I was really losing weight. I mean. YFW claim to not need the gym or hard liquor but I just met a young French triathlete chick and a bunch of really drunk French chicks at the McKittrick who were definitely not drinking wine so shut up, Marie. I don’t want to be a triathlete but I also don’t want to trot my happy ass around my development in the rain. That’s why the goddess gave us texting and ellipicals. Indoors. Like civilized people. So I’m trying to look at this as more of a Witchcraft will development exercise vs oh god make yourself fit society’s standard!!!! I’m happier being conscious about my consumption and enjoy life more as a fun bonus.
Reading books (like a guy! Jow and I say that to each other all the time. I’m not sure where it came from. In our house parlance, it means to do something like a normal person). The Last Tudor. You Are a Badass. French Women Don’t Get Fat. Chaos Protocols (oh don’t judge me, my PAH knows my love is true and I am getting so much out of it with Jow reading it to me before bed. It’s doing the loveliest things to my insides. I’m going to, like, even do the Work! I rarely do the Work books want me to do! See: spent youth with actual occultists). Betwixt & Between. #Girlboss. The Poison Eaters.
Taking up forgotten (by me) arts. I’ve been spinning which has been good for me, on my wheel even. I’ve been getting local lavender and rosemary and drying it out in bundles because I really like using something I’ve made to cleanse the house. My hair smelled like smoked lavender/rosemary the next day which was v. satisfying to bring to the office.
Contemplating beauty, ritual and pagentry. More on this later. It’s v. early stages.
Exploring. Making new friends at The Neighbourhood Witch while I was in Halifax. Eating amazing food at The Blue Moose and Nektar for me and Jow’s five year wedding anniversary. Teaching myself to make espresso and Turkish coffee. Going to late night parties in Hoboken with my girl gang. Plotting upcoming events.