I have a new, full-time job now making more money than I ever have before. The bar was low there; I’ve consistently made <$30,000 since graduating college 8 years ago, even during the 3 year period I was on television. And New York City takes a huge chunk out of my paycheck, which is disheartening. But still. I have a salary now instead of an hourly rate. I have a work laptop and a work cell phone. I have not-Medicaid. I have coworkers. I have somewhere to be and a special G-cal to keep track.
As an actor on strike and a writer with no lit agent I’m more than available to do this new job, but doing communications for a non-profit is not my ultimate goal. It is my present Make Money goal. And I genuinely like the work, which is important. But even more so, I like to Make Money, and the idea that destitution yields the best, most authentic art is a romantic lie. And idiotic. You might have plenty of free time, but the emotional and physical toll of financial insecurity obliterates your energy and makes unemployment an artistically fruitless period. At least, it did for me. So I’m hoping to get more and better work done outside of this new job. I don’t have a brilliant Poverty Portfolio to show for my past year of drudgery.
I did learn a lot about myself though, which is worth something. I fell in love and chose, in sorrow, to leave it behind. I socialized more. I caused some harm and tried to take accountability. I quit therapy then resumed it. I did stuff I am proud of and stuff I am not proud of. I scared my friends getting way too high at a wedding, and then another time at a pasta night. I started this substack. I wrote some cool stuff as well as some shit stuff. I found out that every fucking man on Hinge is named Michael or Daniel. I adopted a lizard. I started investing in higher quality pants.
So that’s my update, and I’ll follow it up with ASFM below. Hoping to put together more premium content for those who pay for this subscription - stay tuned. I appreciate your following.
Love,
Simone
P.S. All I can really think about these days is Gaza, but I’m going to leave that off here because, well, it’s my space and I can fill it with what I want, and no one is obligated to post about the world all the time as some virtue-signaling proof that They Care and They Have Thoughts and They’re On The Right Side of the Issue. I just wanted to acknowledge that it weighs on me every day. Having a little space to talk about something else, whether anyone cares or not, makes me feel better. Narcissism always makes everyone feel better.
10/20/23 A Selection From Me
Things I recommend or have had recommended to me.
Music:
Type O Negative, “Love You to Death”
Books:
“…But more with something of wider human relevance that might be summed up as the fact that beneath the thick skin of even the most armour-plated person there is always a crack that runs straight to the centre and you should think it over very carefully before raising a hand to signal your willingness to fall inside.”
-”Bret Easton Ellis and the Other Dogs” by Lina Wolff.
At a run-down brothel in Caudal, Spain, the prostitutes are collecting stray dogs. Each is named after a famous male writer: Dante, Chaucer, Bret Easton Ellis. When a john is cruel, the dogs are fed rotten meat. To the east, in Barcelona, an unflappable teenage girl is endeavouring to trace the peculiarities of her life back to one woman: Alba Cambó, writer of violent short stories, who left Caudal as a girl and never went back.
Mordantly funny, dryly sensual, written with a staggering lightness of touch, the debut novel in English by Swedish sensation Lina Wolff is a black and Bolaño-esque take on the limitations of love in a dog-eat-dog world.
Reading:
Art:
-Noriyoshi Ohrai