I have 5 different suitcases in different living rooms, living in perpetual sleepovers. I keep getting off at the wrong subway stop, fuck - I don't live here anymore. Me and Erin fall asleep beside each other mostly laughing and then running into each other at bars around Bushwick, accidental double dates. I lose maybe 3 hats this month, mostly in late night Ubers from some show to some bar. I'm meeting a lot of new people and everywhere I go I'm reading someone's tarot, I find I like it in the company of the emotionally vulnerable. I go to DC to watch Erin play and we drive around blasting music, eating sushi, drinking vodka. I’m filling my life with distractions, waiting for news from immigration and wanting to want to take self-portraits - but mostly falling asleep, mind racing.


I mostly watched friends make music while I drank beer and tried to take pictures with no one noticing. I’m going out a lot once I’m back in New York - Erin keeps giving me party dresses so I keep putting them on. I like falling asleep to her noise machine and feeling empty. I spend a lot of time talking - and I mean talking. To myself, to strangers, too much too fast to everyone. I feel raw, vulnerable, and ready.


This January was a tough one, and I don't have a good track record with this month to begin with. I visited my childhood friend in Kingston and snuck into her classes at Queens, pretending to learn about geography while I made moodboards and sipped bland herbal teas. They set me up in Ryan’s studio, I would fall asleep among strip lights and symbols and wake up from nightmares. Something heavy has been sitting on my chest for I want to say months, but know I mean years. I haven't been able to locate it, name it, but every morning of January when I open my eyes it’s just a little heavier and a little harder to keep on pretending. I’m calling my lawyers like I'm not on the verge of a tears, when will my work visa come through? ‘When will you be back in New York?’ is a question I am too exhausted to keep answering, especially since I do not know the answer. I traveled to Montreal to film a few of my friends shows while she toured, and ended up ending a 6 year relationship from the bed in my tiny Airbnb. I’ll remember the green of those sheets for the rest of my life. My friends said kind things to me while I sobbed myself to sleep. I went to museums and churches and book stores and vintage stores to distract myself but mostly I let the weight settle in, giving up - knowing for this moment that I am going to be completely crushed.


I started the month in my childhood home, storming my brothers’ rooms in the mornings looking for someone to play with. It’s getting colder and I’m talking to myself more, ranting and raving and making nothing of it. Looking around, looking in, still waiting for something to take me. Went upstate to a beautiful cabin after a snowstorm and put colored lightbulbs in every room. We did drugs and played hide and seek and made a music video until dawn. I get home and sleep for a week, briefly opening my eyes to answer emails and send files. Had a happy potluck Thanksgiving in an old friend’s living room, drinking wine and listening to her guinea pigs squeak down the hall. We play games until the middle of the night and I don’t fall asleep on the J on the way home this time, I think I may be growing up.


October was a lost in thought month. A lightning fast month. One minute I’m counting to sevens and the next I’m falling asleep on the Metro North, wondering if I’d packed enough layers. A group of friends and I snuck into Sleepy Hollow Cemetery after dark and drank hot whiskey out of thermoses and I lugged around 3 cameras but ended up with only a single spooky polaroid. The Uber driver who picked us up from a crevice of the graveyard at 2am was delightfully confused by our hi-jinx, we concurred. I took another long train ride to the edge of Queens to wander a magical prophouse and daydream with Karen. I stuffed my Alice dress into a tiny suitcase and spent a week in my hometown, watching children playing dress up and running wild with sugar. I passed the time playing card games with my brother and mucking through the forest in plastic boots, breathing in the smell of rain and dirt. I tried my best to mix things up back in New York, but I’m still ending up on rooftops with strangers and forgetting everyone’s name.


Spent the last of New York's good weather in Los Angeles, hiking and drinking and making art in the sunshine. I spent a lot of time alone, and a lot of time with strangers, and a lot of time with Cara. I was mostly moving, moving, moving, between Airbnb’s while my mind jumped from one photograph to the next. Not too fast to second guess, but enough to leave me sleepless. I feel ageless, feel seventeen years old. Up at the crack of dawn until the crack of dawn, still not tired but losing my mind a little. I can’t stop making strangers apartments my home. After a week I know how I like to arrange the pillows on their couches. I make a routine around their neighborhood. I hang my coats next to theirs and feel a little larger, expanded, like I’ve always belonged here. I spent three days in Las Vegas drinking wine from a box and sneaking into pools and not gambling. Three days gawking at the gaudy lights and laughing. Nonstop until I was back at JFK, twice as much luggage as I’d left with. It’s cold in New York.