#92 The Offcuts
Strap in, we’re having a Pavarotti summer
Sometimes, being chronically online can feel like the hug from a community you never knew you needed. But I don’t encourage scrolling until you find the euphoria you’re looking for. Your poor eyes and average weekly hours of screen time deserve more. That being said, I am now completely obsessed with the idea of a Pavarotti summer. Bbqs, pool parties, pasta, questionable patterned shirts and unabashed smiles. The sun sets at 7:30pm tonight and won’t set before 7pm again until the end of September. Bask in it, bitches.
Last week, I read The Hypocrite by Jo Hamya. A book I was excited about because of the cover (guilty). But I am not quite hooked. It wasn’t just the cover that enticed me. The book explores the relationship between Sofia and her father, told through the lens of her play - and her father’s first time watching it. They have differing memories of events that Sofia has based the play upon, and tension builds as the novel unravels over a set short period of time (the duration of the play). My gripe is that Sofia’s father is watching the play in August 2020, and there are so many mentions of and minor subplots around Covid and lockdown. I just don’t think I am ever going to want to read a book about social distancing, wearing face masks, and reliving any of the negative elements those strange years brought us. It all sort of ended without conclusion, and I was confused about how I was supposed to feel as a reader. I wasn’t familiar with Hamya before reading this, but knew she would be a young author when Sofia’s dad referred to himself repeatedly as an “old man” at fifty. No one thinks (nor are they) old at fifty.
I’m currently reading Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos, a comedy first published in 1925. I found it from a round-up (linked below) of books with female protagonists who are happy and joyous. It’s ‘the diary of a professional lady’, who leaves roaring 1920s New York and sets off on a European adventure. It’s sharp and funny. The book is adapted from stories originally published in Harper’s Bazaar and became the second-best-selling title in the USA in 1926.
My audiobooks are continuing to get a good look in. I started listening to All That Glitters by Orlando Whitfield, a memoir about ‘friendship, fraud and fine art’. It’s a high-stakes scandal, and I’m hooked. Whitfield recounts his relationship with Inigo Philbrick. They meet as students and set out to become art dealers. It’s a fascinating insight into the elitism of art sales and ownership.
Other reads from the week:
OpenAI has shelved plans to release an erotic chatbot ‘indefinitely’ - um didn’t even know this was in the pipeline but thank fuck.
Memoirist Amy Griffin allegedly used her classmate’s sexual assault story as her own for the plot of The Tell - supposedly to help push her husband’s agenda of using MDMA to uncover memories. It’s all pretty wild.
The truth behind fruit and veggie AI slop videos
Slop is served - spending a week eating AI-generated recipes
A cheap date with Clairo
Inside London’s dark rooms and sex clubs
Dr. Rebecca Marks - The Nihilist penguin
mons.monday - Fucking with a full bush
Ismene Ormonde - Books where women have fun (I basically bought them all)
The Hannah Montana 20th Anniversary Special was a wonderful, nostalgic watch. We had a viewing with friends and a glass of fizz. Oh, how we have all grown. It was particularly great to see Miley Cyrus return to Hannah Montana with kindness and compassion. It felt like a relatable arc. Moving through your twenties, you’re often desperate to create distance from your younger child self as you establish who you are as an adult. In your thirties, all the pieces come back together. Haven’t been able to stop listening to Miley and Hannah songs since.
This week, I want to squeeze in a cinema visit to watch How to Make a Killing. My one true love, Glen Powell, is the star of this A4 black comedy thriller show (film), and I’ll take the chance to see him up close and personal on the big screen.
You have one week left to buy the speckled egg cookies from M&S or wait another year for the privilege. They are the most delicious, sugary, buttery mouthfuls of pure satisfaction. Easter treats continue to reign supreme.
I learned this week that a group of ladybirds is called a “loveliness”. How sweet. I would’ve gone for geezerbirds or ladettes myself. Where did the naming of groups of animals originate? There seems to be no reasoning; it’s all subjective whimsical adjectives - a flamboyance of flamingos, an embarrassment of pandas, a gaggle of geese… I’ll quit while I’m ahead.
The creativity of others is an abundant well of possibility and wonder. When looking for inspiration and guidance this week, Substack Notes is proof that you don’t need to look too far. Take this example. Frankie Simmons turned her overdue gas bill into a poem. Sublime.
