Juniper Disco | No. 34
A Grey Gardens season + a significant change coming to this space
I’ve been out of sync with time. Bear with me, please. I will eventually catch up.
The more time I spend out here in aquatic Neverland, the more disconnected I feel from what the world thinks I should be doing. I’m refining my sense of purpose while screaming “absolutely not, no thank you!!” to the chaotic vortex of madness swirling around in the world. There’s a yes-but-no-not-that-way tension in my days.
There are moments when I do feel a certain inner click, when the craziness drops away and everything feels aligned. They are subtle, quiet, and reverent. Moments when I am centered enough to hold space for my mother while she expresses what she is experiencing, when I slow down enough to whisper golden honey-dipped reassurances to my aging dog, when I feel the hum of the trees vibrate through me and settle the unsettling that human voices create, or when I’m writing fluidly, hoping that I’ve gotten it right enough for someone to understand.
I’ve shared quite a bit in this space about living more quietly and staying at the edges of things. And I’ve only realized recently that there is a fine line between that and being silent and off the map completely — obscure to the point of erasure.
The need to exercise that sense of purpose, of expression, of being one step above unseen and unheard, and of finding like-minded yes-but-no folks in the world has moved me to try funneling my creative energy into this one space.
I’ve opened up paid subscription options for Juniper Disco as I contemplate transforming this space to an admission-charged-at-the-door safety zone for kindred spirits. (THANK YOU to those who discovered this on your own before my announcement! Your support was just the encouragement I needed!)
My focused intentions for this phase of the adventure: to be less sporadic, more vulnerable, probably weirder (wait, can we use that word now?), and to honor the call for a writing practice that is as frequent and rhythmic as breathing. I will be writing my way through the tempest, looking for safe passage for us all.
For the near future, while I get my bearings and ramp up to a regular schedule, content will continue to be free to all. I’ll give you adequate notification for when that will change. I hope you’ll continue on this journey with me. I will be deeply grateful for the company.
And if you want to hop on the bus now for the best seats, you can do so here:
I’ve been away from this space for longer than I ever have. I needed to stop sharing for a bit. I know it’s October, but it feels incomplete to leave the summer writings behind.
I had a Grey Gardens summer — reclusive and brittle. The house chose this moment to slightly crumble in small annoying ways in a frequency that felt like it was mounting a revolt of some sort. Everything and everyone broke at some point in the heat. I became a hermit. It’s a haze now. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe overload from the summer tsunami of visitors. Maybe depression. Maybe an anxiety fritz from holding space for so many people for so long. Whatever it was, it seems to have lifted.
I slept through the first aurora borealis that visited our town skies. I thought I’d never get over the heartbreak I felt when I woke up the next morning and saw the photos online of the swirly pink and green skies over Provincetown. I will be forever grateful for second chances.
This was the first summer when I practiced restraint, yet the the deck was jungle-fied as ever. All those perennials I planted in pots finally paid off. I did NOTHING while they grew and bloomed and filled up my deck with lush greenery.
I sadly took down the bird gymnasium even before the migration that brings colorful and strange birds to my yard. I love them too much to put them in danger of getting the bird flu from each other. Or of them giving it to us.
However, I now have a hummingbird feeder with a camera. I got to know my vibrant visitors’ individual idiosyncrasies — their flits and darts and chirps and lustrous feathers gleaming in the sun. Next year, I’ll name them.
We sampled experiences. We dipped into Tea Dance for a drink and an hour to lift our spirits. We headed to the quiet mezzanine nook at Aqua Bar at night for dinner instead of making a reservation for a fancy dinner at fancy prices in town. We grabbed breakfast sandwiches from Maria’s (on Portuguese rolls!) and took the shuttle out to Long Point for a morning picnic feast. Little snippets of the really, really good stuff.
Splashing through the low tide flats in the West End with the sun sparkling off the water feels like summer to me. Sitting in a bar where I can’t see the outside does not. I chose how I spent my time accordingly.
I made a pillow fort on the deck, complete with a roof (a deck umbrella) and climate control (battery-powered camping fans.) There were snacks and stacks of books. Surrounded by greenery, the hummingbird moths and the ruby-throateds and the butterflies danced above my sacred space. It was a small thing that brought me joy and a deep sense of rightness.
Stephen and I seem to have developed a parallel decline in our hearing as we often simultaneously look around trying to figure out where that noise is coming from.
Stephen has also developed mild cognitive dysfunction syndrome, which manifests as anxiety, panting, and barking (and scratching at the hardwood floors) at night. We’re loading him up with supplements and extra love, providing a solid routine, long rambling sniffing adventures, cooling blankets, and a hundred fans set up at all his favorite spots in the house.
In an attempt to breathe the week the Supreme Court left democracy bleeding out on the floor, I bubble-wrapped myself by booking frivolous, fuck-it-all things — a trip to somewhere in the winter, an experience with a pack of Irish wolfhounds, reservations at a Michelin Bib Gourmand restaurant. There was a sense of needing to do things while I still can.
I bought copies of On Tyranny to pass around.
I watched a woman weep on national TV moved by how much the former guy — weird ear bandage and all — had “sacrificed.” Dumbfounded, I stared into space for an hour after that, wondering how someone can see a hero in a guy whose first reaction in an extreme emergency is to gather what belongs to him.
It took me ten hours, but I finally procured Broadway tickets for Romeo + Juliet, starring my boy, Nick Nelson Kit Connor. I just learned he hugs random audience members during the show. Please pray for me.
The first thing summer people do when they arrive in town is weed and mow and clip and prune and smack those undesirable plants back in to submission. A violent announcement to the rest of us that THEY ARE HERE.
Our back patch of forested land was filled with bramble berries and Concord grapes, the vines planted by a former occupant of our home. It’s a mess of vines that sustains our visiting birds.
Shocking to all, the simulation overlords decided to cancel my jury duty this one time.
And we went to Ireland where we pondered questions of the past (his heritage) and the future (could we live here?). More on that in a future newsletter.
Phrases that made me click:
reactance + star-shaped sand + “Remember when you wanted what you currently have?” (OOF. Yes!) + “whimsigoth” in Architectural Digest, no less
Currently rejecting:
“Ask Meta AI” (please kindly return my search bar, Zuckerberg) + mask bans + my shameful enjoyment of Making the Band back in the day + buying large pumpkins (so hard to dispose of) + any and all things fascist
Things that worked for me this summer:
these cooling towels that I handed out all summer to everyone I know + lightning bugs in our yard at dusk + Avène facial products for middle-aged female redness issues (and little tubes of cream from the dermatologist) + taste-testing vegan dairy products + Izzy Perri
I’ve been thinking a lot about:
This election. I mean. I am full on dissociating. I put together a little survival agenda for this excruciating period. Feel free to crib:
I saved the ACOTAR books for just this moment and I am now thinking I’d like to move to Velaris permanently. // Star Wars is my tried-and-true go to for a sense of comfort (Punch it, Chewie!) and a reliable story where Good eventually wins. // A Frank Lloyd Wright puzzle with metallic accented pieces. // The Wild Robot movie (more Kit Connor!). // Obsessively following the The Delphi Murders Reddit page with all the trial discussion. // Roller Jam (roller skating routines!). // A massive cleaning project (when Boston shut down the city to look for the marathon bomber, I cleaned the kitchen eight times.)The passing of Kim Angell, a woman FULL of life and love and gratitude. I admired her so much and know so many other women felt the same.
Metastatic breast cancer is a killer. I will never forget when I first learned of my hereditary cancer risks and the doctor told me — AND I QUOTE — “You can just do surveillance and we’ll catch it early. People don’t really die from breast cancer anymore.” As most of you know, I said fuck that and went the Angelina Jolie route.
Somehow I missed this:
“Abraham Stoker and Oscar Wilde actually grew up together — their parents were friends — and they went to college together. It is also said that they were very close.” And Dracula may be based on Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde. I can’t! The scandal! That name!
Also, this story about a recently discovered Bram Stoker story by a reader at the National Library of Ireland.
Also, here’s some stuff:
The MYSTERY LINK.
I still love #BookFaceFriday.
This beautiful sad girl song of an essay, “The Sadness Scale, As Measured by Stars and Whales.”
“The smell of fresh cut grass is the grass trying to heal itself after you’ve cut it, and that smell after a rain is the way the world really smells, which makes me wonder why it can’t always be like that, why we have to wait and wait for what we really want and afterward wish it were still that way.”Ali LaBelle’s Notes Of: Tomatoes compilation of all things tomatoes. It was a summer of cherry tomatoes and sundippers here.
I haven’t been reading much in my Grey Gardens haze. But I did love: Nightbane. The second book in the Lightlark Saga series. The third is out in a few weeks! People were hating on this author for whatever reason and I could care less. I love the story, the characters, the world they live in. // The Other Valley. I love stories that are just slightly askew from our world in some magical way. In this book, the future and the present are actual places next door that you can visit.
The Saoirse-Monica Jackson and Siobhán McSweeney episodes on the Dish podcast. They are just as hilarious as their characters in Derry Girls. // Everyone Knows That: The Search for Ulterior Motives. I love lost song stories and this one is an ADVENTURE. And it has a hilarious resolution. // Media Pressure podcast. We all have those unsolved murders that we are obsessed with. I have three: The Delphi Murders, The Swedish Nanny Murder, and the disappearance of Maura Murray, which this podcast covers. It’s hosted by her sister and pulls together all the information over the years. // The Star Wars episode of The Moth Podcast. That first story had me howling, tears of pure amusement streaming down my face.
The third season of Heartstopper (Netflix). By the time The Super Mr. woke up in the morning the day the season premiered, I was three episodes deep, curled into my blanket on the couch, the detritus of used tissues piled all around me. This group of kids just breaks my heart open!
Masters of the Air (AppleTV.) An absolute masterpiece of a series. I keep thinking of how much these Americans went through to fight fascism and now people are just … opening the door for it to walk right in. //Civil War (Max). A warning shot about what could happen in this country. Sobering. “What kind of American are you?”
Godzilla Minus One (Netflix). Special Effects Oscar-worthy for sure! Always rooting for the monster. // Brats (Hulu). Favorite interview: Emilio Estevez. Least favorite: Demi Moore.
The last word, according to Brandee Younger, who I watched perform in a former art school barn in the middle of a sandy pine forest near my home:
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Currently Reading: A Court of Mist and Fury, Sarah J. Maas