I'm doing it and I'm not afraid
welcome to my Substack
It is a Saturday morning, gloomy. Last night was the first time since May I had gone the whole evening without the AC or fan running. I woke up to a dog howling, groggy from a gummy and annoyed at the disruption. But I felt inspired, which I hadn’t felt in months. I’ve never found summer conducive to writing (sorry, I am having too much fun), and I prefer winter dreariness for getting me to put words on a page.
Anyway, I decided to start this thing I’ve been toying with for months. I realize that few may read, and most will be my dear friends, but it could be a good place for me to try and do something and stick with it. So, on that note, meet the flimsies! Some of you may recognize if you are an Eve Babitz head and have read her best collection of essays, Slow Days, Fast Company. I love Babitz in a way that can feel slightly embarrassing, but her work speaks to me. That woman knows how to have fun, all while being horny and heartbroken. But most of all, she knows how to write a sentence! I could only hope to achieve an ounce of that talent one day.
I named my Substack after The Flimsies because it is one of my favorite essays in the book, specifically the title page vignette.
“I think it was around this guy that I began to wonder if anything was ever going to be nice again. He never understood anything I said. He always treated me with kindly animal gentleness, but when he started telling me that his friends thought that “At last he’s found a girl intelligent enough for him,” I thought, Intelligent! I was intelligent enough for him? Besides, he was too tall.”
There is so much I love about this. Like, for instance, men can be too tall. In fact, back when I was fighting for my life on the apps, I created a rule that anyone over 6’2 “was much too tall, and I wouldn’t dare go on a date with them (I think I ultimately broke this, but that is neither here nor there).
I like how perfectly she captures that you can be in a situation that sucks the hope and happiness from your life, and yet you stay there longer than you should (tried it, barely survived). And most of all, I love the horror she feels that people would suggest she’s intelligent enough for him and not the other way around. Dating anyone who thinks they’re wildly intelligent is worse than dating someone dumb.
I am not totally sure where I plan to take this. Maybe I will muse weekly about what I saw and what I love. Maybe I’ll share recommendations on what to eat and read and watch. Who knows! If you made it this far, I love you desperately!
Stay tuned,
Cham <3
wonderful
Yayyyyy!!!