Year Zero

Coke Talk of the Day

After an extended period of international adventuring in lieu of the typical springtime music festival rituals, life is finally about to return to something roughly approximating normal.

I’m looking forward to sunshine. It will be my first summertime out of Los Angeles in as many years as my average reader has been alive. I’m looking forward to finding a new poolside scene, or whatever the equivalent is in whichever city I decide to find myself.

I have a few lunatics to keep me sane, and for now they’re who I’m calling friends. Well, that’s not fair. They are friends. Good friends, and I love them, but it’s all very ephemeral. That’s okay, though. At least I’m having a good time.

Also, bizarre coincidences are starting to happen. Now that I’ve wandered out into the fray, I’ve met several of you who have written in to me. It’s a very surreal experience to shake someone’s hand who thinks I am a stranger when the truth is that I know their deepest, darkest secrets.

It’s quite beautiful, really. It makes me feel immediately protective. As far as they can tell, I’m just being polite, but if that horrible person they wrote to me about were to suddenly walk into the room, I would eat that bastard alive with a little hot sauce and a side of fries.

There are people in my life now who are devoted fans of my work who have no idea that I’m the person they credit with their relationship choices and career paths. It freaks me out a little bit when I hear them tell me they grew up reading my advice.

Then I think about how long ago 2009 really was. When you click on All The Advice, you can pick from eight different years. Eight. And it’s true, the teenagers who started with me at the beginning are in their mid-twenties now. The twenty-somethings have become thirty-somethings. It well and truly blows my fucking mind.

Not too long ago, I discovered that a therapist who had been recommended to me by a mutual friend was actually a long-time reader who had chosen to become a therapist in part because of my influence. Needless to say, I chose not to set up an appointment. That would have been way too weird for both of us.

Still. I’m open to whatever extraordinary shit comes my way. 2016 has been a profound loop around the sun so far, and the lovely bow at the end of it will be the election of our first female President. I refuse to be cynical about that. I’m genuinely looking forward to it.

Coquette Mix April 2016


Coquette Mix April 2016:

1. Let’s Go Crazy — Prince
2. Don’t Hurt Yourself (feat Jack White) — Beyoncé
3. Tearing Me Up — Bob Moses
4. Toes — Glass Animals
5. Genghis Khan — Miike Snow
6. Sparrow Hand — Strangers You Know
7. Hold Back the River — James Bay
8. Lemon Eyes — Meg Myers
9. I Just Might — Ryan Adams
10. Change My Mind — Stone Cold Fox
11. A Song for Our Grandfathers — Future Islands
12. Downtown — Majical Cloudz
13. The Night We Met — Lord Huron
14. Nothing Compares 2 U — Sinead O’Connor
15. Purple Rain — Prince

Lost in the Light

My ongoing romantic complication continues to be complicated.

This thing of ours has gone on long enough for me to recognize the larger patterns of its push and pull. It’s lunar, almost tidal. There’s an elliptical orbit to it, and we’ve completed another revolution around one another.

I’m back in the heartache phase, but only briefly. It’s not nearly as bad this time. There’s not as much gravity. It’s as if we’re hurtling further away from each other on each go-around, which is a good thing, because I’m finally fucking ready to move on.

We got close there for a minute. It felt really good, but it also never felt right. I mean, shit. There was a reason this thing was never supposed to happen from the beginning, so I don’t know what I was expecting.

We weren’t meant to be together. Almost, but not quite. So yeah, I’ll have this one night of frustrated insomnia where I write a cryptic post and lament the fact that we had another near miss, and tomorrow I’ll wake up and realize that it was actually a disaster averted.

Our relationship will still be ongoing and complicated. Neither of us have a choice about that, but I do have a choice to no longer be emotionally available. Quite simply, it’s time for me to focus my romantic efforts and energy elsewhere.

I’ve done this before, so I know how it works. This next phase will be good for me, because there’s about to be a shift in our power dynamics. I’ll be the one in control again, no longer vulnerable.

Of course, that brings on a whole new set of complications, but I can handle those.

I’m tired of living in a world with kings and queens and peasants who kill for their imaginary gods.

Coquette Springtime Mix


Coquette Springtime Mix:

1. Like It or Not — Bob Moses
2. Vermillion — Damian Lazarus & The Ancient Moons
3. Emmanuel (Stwo Remix) — BASECAMP
4. Lost In the Light — Bahamas
5. We Don’t Eat — James Vincent McMorrow
6. Rise Up — Andra Day
7. Back of the Car — Miike Snow
8. Fool — Boo Seeka
9. Already Free — The Derek Trucks Band
10. Changes — Langhorne Slim & The Law
11. Twigs And Stones — Siskiyou
12. Turn It Around — Lucius
13. Pretty Pimpin — Kurt Vile
14. Ragamuffin — Silversun Pickups
15. Sun Don’t Shine (Extended Mix) — Klangkarussell

Emmanuel (Stwo Remix)

I woke up this morning naked in bed next to my former crush.

As with everything about our situation, last night was totally unexpected. Still, there was purpose behind it. Nothing about our evening was a mistake. There seems to be this bizarre inevitability that we both finally acknowledged, and yet at the same time, last night changed absolutely nothing.

One thing’s for sure, this continues to defy any label I try and ascribe to it. We’ve gone from brand new, totally inappropriate, never-gonna-happen crush to almost-happened crush to former crush to whatever the hell this is now.

I’m not crushing anymore, which is good, but at the same time, I’m certainly not without feelings. I dunno. This is mellowing into something altogether new to me, and I’m kind of amazed at how cool I am with not knowing what will happen next.

I’m thinking for now I’ll just have to call this my “ongoing romantic complication.”

It’s not the snappiest label, but hey, at least it should last me for a while.


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