Catch up with the culture, and I
Do you like my new manicure? Morello cherry red.
2025 is exciting me already in more ways than I could possibly emote! Sure, my mental health still bestows upon me the most insane, unreasonable suicidal self loathing just when I’m least expecting it — Which funnily enough, always happens to be the week before my period is due. Ha! But truly, aside from those occasional dips, things have been remarkably smooth. I haven’t even taken a single ambien yet this new year!
I’ve been feeling motivated and in charge, among other new found feelings of happiness, contentment and… Well, I feel as though I’m glowing. And it shows! Both in person, but also in my enthusiasm towards everything I do, including this blog!
— I’ve been really enjoying cinema these last six months, or so. Finally the culture is back on track. —This can actually be said for music too. Pop culture had been in a pretty dire state since we left the 2000’s. Maybe my nostalgia washed memories are to blame, but it’s more than fair to say there was a fucking terrible lul in the culture from the mid 2010’s to 2020! — And then of course we had the pandemic, which certainly didn’t help anything.
Most notably, I violently enjoyed The substance, a body horror where the twist is being an aging woman in a patriarchal society is the horror. Extremely well acted and aestheticised, paying homage to a number of cult horror movies for no reason other than why the hell not! Sexy, dripping with pain, this movie emotes beautifully the paradox of how powerful and powerless it feels to be a woman.
This scene encapsulating perfectly how it feels to perform as a woman. Especially powerful to anyone who has experienced insatiable and self destructive perfectionism. I cannot recall the number of times I’ve cancelled plans due to my makeup feeling like it looks bad.
I also, very recently watched Wicked. Now, ordinarily I would have little desire to watch a blockbuster musical, marketed towards children. On paper I couldn’t possibly think of anything worse. However, the viral moments from Ariana and Cynthia’s press tour got under my skin and refused to leave!
I say this with the upmost affection but — Ari and Cynthia remind me of those two anorexic, love-sick lesbians, who met on the psych ward. All pronounced collarbones, enlarged pupils and sexual chemistry — it’s HOT. I love them for it. Their fragility, their softness, their silent shared understanding. The way you can picture one of them standing guard outside the bathroom, keeping watch while the other exercised their bulimia. Although of course in this culture, bulimia has been replaced by ozempic.
While I’ve seen much online discourse, saying the way they behave is offputting and irritating. I’ve found it to have had the opposite effect on me! I’m so here for their hand-holding and cooing. I find it charming and strange. So obvi I had to watch the movie for more of their simmering sexual chemistry — and Glindas pink wardrobe of course!
Kanye is back on instagram and Trump is back in the Whitehouse. I hold a certain affection for Kanye—a complex warmth born of his manic-depressive spirals and his raw, unconventional vulnerability. There’s something achingly human in his chaos, a fractured genius that has undeniably shaped the cultural zeitgeist. His unapologetic brilliance, so loud and unfiltered, commands both reverence and reproach. And yet, when he falters—when his crass provocations veer into the offensive—it feels as though he inches ever closer to his own crucifixion, a tragic trajectory that seems destined to cement him as both pariah and martyr.
On the contrary, it is harder to muster empathy for Trump. And as for the so-called "tech gods" simping from the front row like cucks at his presidential inauguration—oh, how I roll my eyes at their obsequiousness. What an insipid parade of sycophants.
It’s strikingly clear that Trump places a far greater premium on commanding a monopoly over social media platforms than he does on fostering loyalty within his own cabinet, relegated to the rows behind. This choice speaks volumes, revealing his obsession with self-promotion and the manipulation of narrative over the cultivation of meaningful alliances or the pursuit of collaborative governance.
I also have minor but exciting — at least to me, news! I’ve slightly changed my promotional stickers to read ‘inside the mind of’ instead of ‘confessions of’. I felt ‘confessions’ was slightly too salacious. My stickers already have the potential to give off a slightly lewd vibe, being a little self objectifying. To confess is to admit to one’s wrong doings, one goes to church to confess their sins. And yet, forgiveness is not what I’m seeking.
To say I write about my wrong doings is a gross oversimplification! This blog has grown beyond a confessional—becoming a space for exploration. Furthermore, I’m extending olive branches at the moment, lending myself to all sorts of topics and templates. Now, I hope people come here at very least to enjoy, and at very most— to learn a little. Doused in a heady dose of satire of course. That’s how I enjoy all my media: sharp, irreverent, and just a touch indulgent.
I’m fast approaching 100 subscribed readers, I’m touched by the community that’s slowly beginning to form here. To celebrate this adventure, I’ll be releasing new merch —a special, diet pussy T-shirt I’ve been designing. It’s hella sexy and I can’t wait to unveil it when the time comes! <3