Welcome to the grand opening of a new room we constructed in the Librarie. It’s called FIELD NOTES! One of the things I miss most about my old journals is the historical record of random notes, recs, people, places, and things I encountered. This is a bit of an experiment because I’m not sure if anyone will want to read about my strange encounters. Worst case scenario, this becomes a digital archive for me to reminisce on when I’m 84.
Termites.
I was recently reminded about the concept of Puppy Talk, i.e. speaking to yourself more kindly, like how you might speak to a beloved pet. Then someone mentioned their type of self-talk was more like “Dissing Your Dog.” Reminder to either be nice to yourself, or laugh about how mean you can be, or both.
Scrolled way back to the deepest caverns of my Instagram and found this memory from the college days, Arcata, CA circa 2012. I recall earlier that morning waking up hungover at my friend’s house. We decided to walk to my house, and on the way, passed by a yellow house with the words “MANIFEST THE BEST” painted in pink letters on the side. The front door was wide open and a shirtless man with a circle tattoo on his forehead emerged with a smile. “Wanna see some baby yaks?”
We were young and dumb and too hungover to think clearly, so yeah we wanted to see some baby yaks. We entered into the house and found a living room filled with hay and hot animal smells. No furniture. And there were the baby yaks. Through the back sliding glass doors, we saw topless women lounging in big dirt piles with little goats prancing all around. We thanked him for the yak show and swiftly exited.
Linda Perry released a new song called “Balboa Park” and in announcing it, she says:
“You know, I’m singing a little funny in it because it represents a time in my life when I was younger. I was basically living in Balboa Park with all my punks and mod friends and drag queens and queers . . . there was an innocence . . .”
What a tender sweet artistic decision to sing “a little funny” as part of her storytelling device. Initially the title drew me in because I spent a lot of time loafing around Balboa Park myself.
Swooning over these 2004 satin Prada slides, courtesy of ethereal style girly annabelle <3
Trout roe cradled by a cream cheese cloud, floating on a loaded fritter with a dozen tiny layers of buttery potato. I know, I know. It is as obscene as it sounds. Pure decadence. Dangerously close to that gluttony the Bible warned us about. Heaven on Earth at Hermon’s LA.
“Young people are leading a snail mail revival,” by Hatti Rex for Dazed. I felt shock and awe to learn that so many people are still enamored by receiving good old fashioned snail mail. I’ve always been the handwritten thank-you-note type. When I was 19 I had a prison penpal who sent me photos of leather purses he made in there. I also was that hoarder who kept every birthday card and handwritten note ever given to me. Till the fire… but now—
I’m starting MY very own mail club!!! As much as I love receiving mail, my passion for sending mail is tenfold. I may be a little late to this trend, but what the hell. I’m starting my own mail club, baby. It’s called the Love Letter Preservation Society.
What do you think about the first installment of my Encounters? Any suggestions? Feedback welcome! As always, thank you for reading and happy Monday queenie ♥️
XX,
CZ
What’s your oldest Instagram post?
Does your inner voice lean toward puppy talk or dissing your dog?
Lecture me about the yaks.
Thanks so much for reading! Want to connect more? Find me on Instagram, TikTok, and Bookshop. If you enjoy Secret Librairie, please share this newsletter with a friend. I appreciate you deeply. Thank you for being here!
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