Juniper Disco | No. 40
Picky bits
First, about that trip …
Amidst threats of security lines hours* long, my sister and I went to London last month in search of an Americans Decidedly Not in America experience with my niece who moved there in September. While I understand that the English are viewed as the OGs of oppression (my Irish-blooded husband holds an Irish-sized grudge,) it felt like freedom there. Relief from the circus and the embarrassment and the unending reports of What He Said Today. A place that felt civilized, orderly, world-embracing. With halloumi.
(*Note: it took us less than 30 minutes from the front door of Logan to the gate.)
And beyond the teas and the Royals and the double-decker buses, I noticed:
There are dogs EVERYWHERE — in restaurants, on public transportation, in the stores. They are so integrated into life there that I found myself feeling resentful of the American “health codes” that prevent us from experiencing this in our day-to-day lives. Stephen needs to go to the pub!
You pay for everything with your phone. Boop! Paid for lunch. Boop! Paid for the tube. Boop! Bought my weight in books. Boop! Boop! Boop! It is unbelievably convenient and easy. However, my American Decidedly Not in America Spidey-sense was tingling — are they scanning all my shit on this phone? Have I just given them my entire life? Access to my bank account? Did they just steal my photos to scan into AI? I am uncomfortable! BOOP! Here’s a matcha.
There were healthier, fresher food options every single place we went. All those banned chemicals that we pump into our food here are absent from what is offered there. I want NICE THINGS!
A plethora of mocktail and LOW alcohol options. Something that may surprise many of you: I rarely drink these days. I was so thrilled to have light fancy potions to select.
Being able to bring your food to the theatre (not theater.) The default capitalistic No Outside Food or Beverage rule isn’t in practice there.
Clear signage and directions. London is enormous, but there were signs everywhere — where you are now, how to get there, instructions for what to do, explanations of what is around you.
QUEUEING. My anxious self appreciates an orderly line and rules which everyone follows. No pushing or shoving to get to the front. No deepening rage at the injustice of being dismissed by the loud man who just stepped in front of you.
Not being inundated with city noise. Even though there were cars and people everywhere, the sound level was nowhere near that of NYC’s. I think I noticed one car honk. It was almost like being at a golf tournament.
Factual facts reported on the news. In a calm manner with appropriate side eye.
I bought a lot of paper bits and bobs in London. Vintage erasers from the 1960s. Parakeet and Moomin stickers. Notebooks with specific purposes — a numbered, limited edition of a little album for collecting fruit stickers, one for drawing tiny maps, and one for archiving my days. Olive green pens. Risograph prints. A book all about London bookshops.
They were packed in my mini Daunt Books tote for weeks, living together as a happy clan. I did not want to separate them. I feared feathering them into my regular life would dilute their relationship with each other and they would stop being my London trinkets. And the trip would be officially over.
(Note: I have a pretty nifty story saved on my Instagram if you want to see more of London. My account — @juniperdisco — is locked down, but send me a note here if you need access.)
On a morning when the news was particularly apocalyptic, I learned: there is a seahorse that resembles Snuffleupagus + my birth month tree is the ash tree, which needs room to spread out (no crowding allowed!) + Scandi countries are so successful producing energy from wind that electricity is sometimes FREE + it is difficult to find vintage Ranger Rick tshirts (still on the search for that).
This time of year it takes an air horn, a canister of pepper spray, a Nordic walking stick yielded like a lightsaber, and two hypervigilant dog parents to protect our Stephen from the neighborhood coyotes who are roaming around in the afternoon looking for food to feed their young.
I am popping my collars like it is 1986. And listening to Interpol on my metallic green iPod mini. I’m rewatching Felicity. Living in any timeline but this one.
This spring was cold. In the half-dark mornings swirling with birdsong and the running water of my hydroponic garden, I was dreaming of painting my walls a bright summer moss green and hanging plants from the rafters to cocoon myself in a faux outdoors.
I started using the special map paper I bought in London to make maps of where I find lilacs on my walks.
Recently I switched from morning meditation and it’s optimism (and pressure) to have a perfect day to an evening meditation where all you have to do is make peace with the day and let it go.
I sorted through 30+ years of my beach rock collection. I marveled: of the thousands and thousands of rocks I’ve seen, THESE were the ones I chose to pick up. Themes through the years: heart-shaped rocks, pink-hued rocks, rocks with holes, glittery rocks, rocks with stripes, long cigar-shaped rocks, square-shaped rocks, and tiny, tiny round rocks.
After weeks of stomach pains, I had a meal in Boston before my annual scans that was so soothing — herb-crusted cod with a heavenly mix of roasted potatoes + snap peas + fiddleheads + tomatoes + fava beans in a green goddess sauce. I vowed that night to learn how to feed myself like this.
In Boston, I feel the eyes of young women on me, on other women, on everything. I told my husband I guaranteed him that every woman in the restaurant knew exactly what every other woman there was wearing.
I miss having things that you can only get from one geographical place. When I was in high school, the “it” tshirt was from Fred’s Tavern in Stone Harbor, NJ. You could only buy them there. Mine was purple.
My summer approach this year is inspired by a young child I met at the beach this week. Wild, curly sea-salted hair blowing in the wind, she was wearing only a fuzzy sweater with daisies on it and she was peeing in the sand. If ever there was a child born of this place, it was her. So while I will be wearing pants, I will be giving no fucks this summer.
“Kiss the joy as it flies.”
—William Blake
Whispers of Yes
Shigeo Sekito’s Special Sound Selection — The Word. A true algorithm-breaker that transports me to the sub ground-level roller rink that my Nana used to take me to at the Park City Mall (Not a Mormon. Not Utah.)
Off Campus (Prime.) The binging I binged with this show! Favorite couple: Garrett and Hannah. Sorry, they are adorable. And for the record, I do think Josh Heuston can play Xaden. // Suzume (Netflix.) I’m making my way through all of Makoto Shinkai’s animated films. This is the third in his disaster trilogy and was inspired by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan.
Justin Bieber singing in his OG voice. My algorithm won’t let it go and neither will I.
I saw an older couple sitting at a picnic table next to Blackwater Pond the other day. They were having a lovely little picnic lunch, both seated on the same side of the bench facing the water. And they brought a large VASE of daffodils. My heart!
“Human-made” ambience videos on YouTube. I can’t believe “human-made” is a search term I need to use now, but if you are opting out of that AI BS, this search gives you options for your background setting for your reading hours.
Whoopie pies for breakfast. A long-held Groff family tradition. (No, I am not related to Jonathan Groff, but we grew up in the same Pennsylvania county where Groffs are like Smiths.)
The We Can Do Hard Things episode, “Our Most Hilarious Episode EVER: Embarrassing Stories.” I HOWLED. I also felt embarrassed and uncomfortable but mostly, the howling.
Washingtonian newsletter. The subtle cheek with which they report the day’s calamities in “Here's some administration news you may have blocked out” is exactly the right touch.
This month’s Pleasure List (inspired by the Substack, The Pleasure Lists) — the sensation of holding my green, textured pencil bag and zipping the oversized zipper open and close + the smell of the lilacs blooming all over town + the smugness of scoring the entire Friday Night Lights 19-disc DVD collection for only $8.50 + the Scrooge McDuck feeling I get when I survey my small collection of zines, chapbooks, and small independent press books (weird stuff definitely made by humans)
Whispers of Yes (The British bits)
Percy Pigs — What enchanting sweet chewy magic is this?? I am partial to the Pals version with all the flavors. Cola cows!
Halloumi — Cheese as a main course. Cheese as a topper like lettuce, tomato, and onion on sandwiches. Cheese as an appetizer.
Picky bits — I mean. There is no better Britishism than this! Cheese as a picky bit!
British book covers — They are categorically better than ours. WHY?? At least Blackwells still has free shipping to the US and NO ridiculous tariffs. Also, paperbacks released at the same time as hardbacks. AND THEY ARE CHEAPER. Nice things, people, we need NICE THINGS!
Sunday Roast. Yorkshire pudding and crunchy-ass potatoes.
Wild parakeets — Someone, somewhen let their parakeets loose. And now they are flying all over London parks, singing away, and landing on people’s hands for little snacks. (Note: they are really rather large green parrots, not those little colored birds you used to find in pet shops in the mall.)
Kit Connor about to be everywhere again — Photos leaked from the Eldenring set (we were at the Royal Naval College mere weeks before!), Charles Melton’s prank call to him (could Kit be LOVELIER??), and the Heartstopper movie out on Netflix on July 17.
Also, super thanks to everyone who contributed to last month’s Whispers of Yes. Consider this a standing open invitation to add yours. I’ll keep adding them, if you keeping sending them. If you missed it, here’s a link.