Letter To An Old Mood Board
What actually happened this summer?
I’ve been carrying this notebook around for ages, waiting for the proper moment to pick it up. But it’s never the right time. I’m always too tired or distracted by some useless thing. Or my thoughts slipped away before I got a chance to get a good grip on them. The truth is, I suppose, is that I’m afraid. I’m hesitant to unravel what has been brimming beneath the surface of my conscious thoughts. They are there — constantly threatening to reveal themselves in some unceremonious fashion. As if I’m patiently waiting for some stroke of inspiration. And WHAT am I waiting for to come to me?? Stories?? Memories?? Opinions about the world?? (coughs) Social media content?? I wouldn’t know — I never let myself have the time to figure it out. And I can’t keep waiting for myself to be ready enough to think. I can’t keep numbing myself to maintain this level of blissful unawareness. Who’s going to tell me that a mood board is not a complete thought?? I can’t stop using them as a mental crutch!!!!
What has happened, actually? This entire summer, WHAT has HAPPENED?? Charli xcx’s album came out — which is a cultural shift to say the least. I’m sure you can see Brat green from outer space. The Trump assassination attempt happened, and we were so close to finally putting this nightmare to bed. Or to it’s grave, rather. (I will NOT apologize for wishing for the death of someone — he literally does not care if we live or die. If you have an issue with that, I cannot help you).
All hope seemed like a waste of time for awhile. It felt especially grim in Chicago, with the DNC looming. I thought the election was lost. But then Kamala Harris’s nomination announcement came out, and it felt like things might not be as bleak as we thought. We physically cannot have another 2016. We HAVE to refuse. Chappell Roan’s catapult to success continues throughout summer festival season. The Paris Olympics happened (and then I quickly forgot about them, sorry team). House of the Dragon season two ended (AND NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENED IN THAT ENTIRE SEASON WTF HBO!!!!!)
Now that I’ve been off the sauce (TikTok) for a few months now, I feel like I’m really behind on trends and/or sounds. Like, demure is having a MOMENT. At first I wasn’t sure what that was about… but then I saw it was pioneered by a cute as hell trans woman (classic) and now I’m fully on board. Per usual, the coolest and funniest parts of culture can be tied back to trans women of color.
This summer has been… many things. Rejuvenating; exhausting; scary; inspiring; cunty; brat; a fucking party. And now… very respectful, very demure. August is a complex month — she has a multitude of layers. I’m so nostalgic and emo right now. Are we all in our sentimental bag right now or am I making that up?? I’m just like on the verge of tears right now drinking a Coca Cola Zero. I’m trying to read more, but I still get stuck on Instagram Reels. It feels like there’s no fixing that.
People are falling in love; people are drifting apart. Families are being made and unmade. I’m not really sure what I mean by that but I’m confident it’s happening. It’s just… summer is such a BIG thing. As a season, as a concept, as a state of mind... especially in a city where the weather is only gorgeous during very specific months of the year. And when it all comes to pass, it’s like the first time feeling the post-holiday blues when you’re a kid. It’s the same feeling I used to get when I was SO excited for my birthday, and then it comes, and I ALWAYS cried at the end (I’m a cancer sun, okay??)
So all of August… I’ve just wanted to cry. But my gods damned SSRIs won’t LET me!!!! I’m just on my period. I would definitely say all this shit when I’m not on my period, though. I just wanted you to know where I’m at (on my period, on my couch, drinking a Coca Cola Zero mini can with a straw). Fall is creeping up on me, but I feel like I haven’t sucked the entire nectar out of summer yet. Maybe I never will. I suppose I just need to be okay with that.
