🫖 Greetings. Before launching into today’s topic, I’d like to share an excerpt from my friend Isaac’s new substack, Celebrity Skin Contact. Subscribe immediately: he’s gifted as hell. I dare you not to cackle audibly at his acerbic handling of Post Malone’s rosé. In this month’s roster, he’s treated us to reviews of SJP & Kylie Minogue’s labels. Can’t wait to see what he sips next! 🫖
Celebrity Skin Contact
The first time I had Post’s wine, I found it cloyingly sweet. Lean produced in southern France. But on the second day I found the wine had mellowed a bit and I could detect notes of melon and blackberry. And for all of its sugar, I didn’t find that the wine tasted overly alcoholic in the way many rosés can.
But it’s a heavy, thick wine. I wouldn’t enjoy this poolside. I wouldn’t have it with a meal. It’s pretty much just bad.
The aesthetics of Maison no. 9 say the most about its appeal. Post’s rosé comes in a tall, svelte bottle with a long neck and a thin body (okay, dream body). The length of this bottle’s neck affects how one holds the wine, which seems like a purposeful design choice. I found I was grasping it with one hand like I would cartoonishly wring a duck, not like how I would normally hold a bottle from its base. It felt comfortable in my palm. Did I feel a little cool holding it? I mean, as cool as you can be while holding rosé. This I think is the primary goal of this wine: to make rosé a little less, well, gay.
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Forever is a Mighty Long Time
On Thursday night, I mopped sweat from my brow as I approached the carpeted side door at Ray’s.1 I said hi to the bouncer and he asked me if I was on the guest list. “Nope,” I proffered, but apparently that didn’t matter since he proceeded to bisect a blue vein on my right wrist with a circular black stamp. I guess he just wanted to know. “Have fun,” he said.
I descended the stairs into a basement, lit like many basements with cascading beams of multicolored light. There was a small stage, some bench seating along the walls, a few cushioned chairs. A makeshift bar was quaintly set up with little mixing bottles of Canada Dry and Dole pineapple juice. The whole basement felt inexplicably Midwestern.
I asked for a Corona and the skinny, low-waisted-jeans bartender said they only had Red Stripe. “Chill girl” that I am, I said: “That works!” She seemed kind of surprised and mentioned how she never drinks beer, so she didn’t know if they were really different or not. I wondered if it was gauche to be drinking beer at the “Bad Thoughts” book launch in the era where the Pick Me Girl is out and the Bimbo is in. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t really know the difference between Corona and Red Stripe either. But, instead, I clutched the portly bottle and found the comfiest seat available.
Being a book launch, a Handsome Squidward was very seriously attempting to read in a chair near me. He was manning the stack of tomes for sale. He seemed to be making some progress—by the looks of it, he only had thirty pages to go.
As Blake 2 played over the speakers, I imagined that everybody was craning their necks around to see if Dean Kissick would show up. He probably did, given that one of the writers seems to be his friend or girlfriend, based on a number of birthday social media posts. A birthday post to the IG grid is the modern-day FB relationship status update. Antiquated, but necessary.
The scene was not as hostile as I expected. The gals wore tiny tops and the guys wore tiny mustaches, but it didn’t feel like a complete in-crowd. I have no doubt that 80% of the people in that room would call themselves a writer. The woke writing center where I was a tutor touted the tautology that “a writer is a person who writes.” I am not sure if that is true.
No one was on their phones, probably because there was no service. I tried not to fidget, but to embrace my solitude. I sat and observed. There was another lone observer trying to look casual near me—a forty-something man who exuded the vibe of wanting to talk. I was open to the prospect of talking to people, but he was admittedly low on my list. I pivoted my body in the other direction.
Before long, the microphone was occupied, and the collective attention shifted forward. The reading was being hosted by Forever Magazine, recently profiled on Perfectly Imperfect (the first time I had heard of it)—the first monkey on the chain of events that led me to the basement of Ray’s, alone on a Thursday. Everyone was standing, so I stood. Imagine a concert where everyone is so still and silent that you can hear a drop of condensation falling from a Red Stripe to the floor. That is what a book reading in the basement of Ray’s on a Thursday night is like.
The MC of sorts was Allie Rowbottom (@allierowbottom), who kicked things off with an anecdote about bikini waxing, and other losses. Next, was Olivia Kan-Sperling (@dianadiagram) who read an excerpt from her novella “Island Time.” Despite her unassuming vocal delivery, her writing was delightful and my favorite of the night. It evoked an elevated Wattpad fanfiction about a fictionalized Kylie Jenner and Lil Peep. It struck me as subversive, girly and cool.
Up next was Lindsay Dye (@dyelindsay) who shared a few poems about sex and synesthesia while an emotional support friend held up the microphone in solidarity. They were both wearing white bodycon dresses and looked scary and hot.
The main event was the LA-based writer Nada Alic (@nadaalic), reading from her new collection of stories, “Bad Thoughts.” (You can read an excerpt on Forever’s website). Her writing was funny and true. Her observations gave color and life to the insecurities of being a young writer. And, her line about teaching PE to middle school boys who did nothing to hide their erections made me laugh out loud.
After the readings, the room chitted, chatted, drank more cocktails out of plastic cups, and dispersed in puffs of Marlboro Golds. I quite enjoyed myself.
. . .
That night, I dreamt about remembering to go back to grab my roommate’s umbrella. In a rush, I borrowed it without asking: it was more compact than my full-length one. As it turned out, the threatening clouds were nothing but threatening. When I arrived, I stashed it under my chair. I was proud of myself for remembering it. The chair-stashing maneuver was risky.
I woke up disappointed. In the real world, I left it waiting patiently in the basement of Ray’s.2
5 songs that feel like the basement of Ray’s at a Thursday night book reading
“Bennington,” John Maus
🎶 Well, I still love the girl from Bennington. Even though I’ll never see her eyes. I love those fucking eyes. 🎶
“Wizard of Finance,” Parliament
🎶 If I was a wizard of finance speculating every day on Wall Street, my dividends would be so tremendous, baby even Dow Jones would find it hard to believe. 🎶
“Losing Touch (Nyc),” thanks for coming
🎶 It’s so goddamn easy to lose touch. Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s always just too much. 🎶
“Raingurl,” Yaeji
🎶 Oh yeah hey dog hey whatsup 🎶
“Pods,” Two Shell
Quick anecdote: Now this is a story more appropriate for last week’s theme of embedded. But, it’s too silly and New York to resist. Last Saturday, I danced the night away with Isaac (yes, that Isaac) at Nowadays to a DJ set by Two Shell. I was reading Haley Nahman’s “15 things I consumed” post of the week (guest-written by her brother) to discover that he also happened to be at the club that night. Then, the next day HE discovered from a tweet that the real Two Shell were in London, and the DJs that night were imposters. Silly, silly stuff. There’s something distinctly preposterous about getting a knockoff version of an artist that has less than 200,000 monthly Spotify streams. But, like… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I kind of stan.
🫖 Thanks for reading! Now that we’re 10 posts in, I’ve done some housekeeping to the ‘stack, updating the About page and reformatting a few things. As always, let me know if you have any suggestions to help me brew the Tea so that it’s strong, sweet and fragrant. 🫖
Ray’s is famous for being a fake dive where you might see Cousin Greg from Succession or like Zoe Kravitz or something.
Sorry, Alexander. I promise to buy you a new one!