Memento 2: Poop Bag
Usually the “memories” function on Facebook only serves as a reminder that I was really (I mean really) annoying and pretentious after I read ONE Judith Butler essay in 2009, but today it brought forth a memory that…I have no memory of:
I was stunned. When did someone leave a bag of poop in my kitchen? I have ZERO memories of this happening. I started doing the math to remember where I was in 2011 when I posted this, and I was living with two roommates in Istanbul. I remember LOADS of things about that time in my life, and yet, you would think that of anything, a bag of shit might loom especially large in my memories, however distant.
I spent all day absolutely racking my mind as to what happened. I felt like god damn Memento, as future me tries to remind current me that past me once had a mysterious bag of poop in their kitchen.
You might think I was making a joke with this status, but this isn’t the type of joke I make, as I am VERY selective about poop jokes, and almost certainly wouldn’t post them as a Facebook status. I do remember I had a bad kidney infection from a UTI around this time so maybe it was borne out of the hallucinations caused by this insane Turkish antibiotic I had to take, but that doesn’t really make sense either. I wouldn’t have had the energy to post about it when I was that sick. One of my roommates was a weirdo, so it kind of seems like something she might do.
The post itself is clearly a little “cute” in tone (cuz I’m a lil’ rascal!) with me making light of what was clearly a weird-ass incident, but everything leads me to believe that in March 2011, in all seriousness, I was the victim of a poopetrator. It’s no laughing matter, tell me what YOU would do if you found a bag of excrement in your kitchen? I mean please, tell me, because I can’t remember what I did.
It’s wild to think that if we didn’t preserve all our stupid thoughts and experiences on the internet so much might be lost. I would go the rest of my life thinking “Gee, some days have been tough, but at least I never found a bag of human poop in my kitchen.” But that thought would be dead wrong.
Thing 1: Pigeon report
As a general rule living in NYC, the chances of a park being filled with pigeons is 100%. As much as I dislike pigeons, I’d be creeped out if they weren’t there. Why? Did a pigeon Chernobyl happen? Did a human Chernobyl happen?
But apparently one park in NYC is so infested with pigeons, they have basically become a colonizing force, terrifying the entire neighborhood into submission.
“There’s bird seed randomly scattered around. And there’s hundreds of pigeons. The seed, the droppings, the feathers. It’s kind of like a sludge.”
Yum, pigeon sludge!
Look, I’m not going to victim blame, but have I not been warning people for literal YEARS at this point that this would happen? And the pigeons are loving every damn minute. The article says park-goers describe them as having a “party” which doesn’t surprise me one wink. Not a WINK I tell you.
Apparently, there’s exactly ONE woman responsible for this debacle, as she comes every morning with a cart and keeps feeding the pigeons. This park sounds gross, but I also have a huge soft spot for nutty ladies who feed wild animals. This woman is living her best life, literally scooping, SCOOPING, these pigeons full with filthy pigeon seed. A veritable 21st century take on Grey Gardens! They should rename the park that come to think of it, given all the “sludge.”
Grade: F, if I don’t speak out against these terrorist acts, who will?
Thing 2: Great Baby Name Ideas You’re Welcome to Use
Ovum
Spanakopita
Wellfred
Chippy Canoe
Salome
Salamie (girl’s name only)
Gudrun
Speeven
Toody
Liutward
Leap Year
Calendula
Schmisty (yes, SCHMISTY, not Misty)
Thing 3: In which I, once again, live inside my head permanently
Since back in the good old days when I was a teenager and the internet had to make noise to turn on, I have always loved street style blogs. Those were the best. Growing up as a teen in a deeply boring, conservative Colorado city (a state that, as a general rule, prides itself on being ten years behind everyone else. They just discovered dabbing!) It was fun to think about a world where people could dress creative and kooky and other people would admire it.
One of my absolute faves was the Japanese magazine FRUiTs, which documented various fashion subcultures in Japan and is probably responsible for me thinking I could get away with wearing a vintage apron to school in 10th grade.
Today, while the internet is quiet when you turn it on, street style photos still exist in one form or another (although I will maintain to my dying day it ain’t never gonna be like those halcyon Tumblr days ~2009. The absolute HOLD galaxy print had on us as a nation needs to be clinically studied…) I still follow lots of Instagram and TikTok street style accounts, and I love YouTube Street style videos:
I was walking in Soho the other day because sometimes a girl likes to go stare and lovingly touch Issey Miyake dresses in person, okay!? And I was wondering, what if someone took a picture of me today, and they asked me the inevitable “what inspires your style?” What would I say?
I have no idea why but the first thing that came to me was, “My style? Gee, I guess I’m influenced by Exene Cervenka before she got into Trump, Calico Critters, Nancy Drew’s fat friend Beth, and the music of Shostakovich.”
I’m not wrong.