June Musings (in July)
notes on oversharing, rabbit holes, MJ Lenderman, a really good haircut & more
Hey guys. Remember June? I’m clicking post from the eleventh hour of July because I owe my three billion Substack subscribers last month’s musings. Thanks for waiting up for me. I’m forever indebted to my fans.
Sorry for the radio silence, but June gave me too much to write about and took all the energy I had to actually write. I started June in Manhattan, spent the first weekend in the Hamptons, came back to the city for a beautiful, record-breaking twelve days, drove out to Rhode Island for the third weekend, back to Manhattan for Pride, Rhode Island for the Fourth of July, and finally, back to the city to disassociate for a hot second before turning around and going back to Rhode Island. Then back to Manhattan. Then back to Rhode Island. Then back to…
You get the gist. It’s been a chaotic two months. I had no choice but to spend the first half of July avoiding Substack entirely and the second half in a frenzied state of writing, editing, deleting, and staring at the ceiling.
When I finally had the guts to confront my drafts I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to share, and then I spent a whole week editing a bunch of stories (i.e. three run-on sentences) that I had no intention of writing, let alone sharing—and now it’s basically Halloween and I am sick of looking at the words I wrote in June. Womp womp. Legend has it the run-on sentences are still running. Let them.
I had Big Plans to write about my life-changing haircut and the shoes I *didn’t* steal from Zara—didn’t, because the only thing more embarrassing than dropping ninety five pre-tax dollars on fast fashion flip-flops is getting caught stealing fast fashion flip-flops—but I keep getting distracted and saying yes to playdates with my friends and trying on all the clothes in my closet. I bought the shoes, which sucked. There are so many things I’ll never do because I can’t withstand the embarrassment. More on that another day.
June revealed itself with such fullness, but my brain taps out when I try to process everything that transpired. Too many lifetimes unfurled in just thirty days. I’m literally just a girl.
The good news is that I’m writing everything down: words I say too often (epic, literally, sorry) and ones I don’t say enough (no), one-liners that make my sister laugh (So, I’ll perish without a little treat), quick notes of gratitude, lyrics that I wish I wrote, peripheral happenings on my walks through the park, texts I’ll never send—I could go on. The bad news is I haven’t figured out how to write around the things that:
Hurt my head/heart/hands to write about
Take too much time to edit for clarity
I am actively disassociating from
Shouldn’t be shared online
I don’t want second-degree relatives to read
I’m still figuring out how to play dress up for the internet without giving myself an overshare-hangover. There’s so much I leave out in my recaps and I don’t know how to feel like I’m not lying when I’m not sharing the whole truth. When I exclude the messy corners from my retelling of things I feel like I’m Facetuning my e-memoir. Smoothing over the rough spots, slimming the necessary excess, you know the drill. But showing up in full and sharing the mess doesn’t feel like an easier trade off. At least not in June.
The idea of writing around the truth also reminds me of when Caroline Calloway painted her *rental* apartment floors white and instead of picking up the piles of dirty clothes and clutter she literally painted around them— which is so me-coded but also something I would never do. I would never do that, guys…
June Mus(ic)ings:
Excuses and small qualms aside, I must show up to share the playlist I made last month. I’m nothing if not loyal to the only promise I made when I started Junk Drawer. I wrote a lot about music here, so if you’re not into that, skip to the next section (freak!!!).
This playlist is not like, a coherent body of work, which makes the listening experience very…interesting. Try it on shuffle if you’re feeling crazy. The Friko to Sabrina Carpender transition is a bit jarring, yes—but you know what? So was June. And I’m not trying to make sense when I’m making these playlists. I’m just being whimsical and honest about what I like and wearing my AirPods and clicking “+ Add to playlist” when the spirit of Spotify compels me. Also I’m having fun imagining all the artists on this playlist at a dinner party. Or a speed dating event. What do you think Charli XCX and MJ Lenderman would talk about?
The best song I discovered in June was “Maria” by Greg Mendez. I wrote that sentence three weeks ago and the trajectory of July changed after I made that revelation, so if you’ll bear with me, I’m going to let my ADHD flag fly for a minute here and tell you about what happened after I started writing about this song:
I mistakenly double-dosed on Adderall and got really into the music section of June Musings. The result was a very long-winded examination of “Maria,” the poetics of simplicity, what the lyric “come back to me” actually means, and if I missed my calling to be an indie music journalist. By hour sixteen-ish of working on a single-paragraph series of questions I lost confidence, direction, purpose, and the amphetamine high that carried me there. My final question (in perpetuity) was is my analysis actually just a projection? which is not an awesome question to have after days spent writing something I desperately wanted to like. I had an out of body experience bouncing between half-dug rabbit holes until I discovered that there is a word limit to these newsletters— which is ironic, given that I was using this song as a way to share my mixed feelings about oversharing. So, that was..humbling. Can someone confiscate my talking stick?
I’ll share more words about “Maria” when the time is right. For now, listen to the song and try to guess how I made this sub-two minute track all about me!
In other news, “Right Back To It” by Waxahatchee and MJ Lenderman quickly became another favorite song last month. I feel the lyric “reticent on the off chance / I’m blunter than a bullseye / begging for peace of mind” in my stomach first, then my throat. Indie-rock carried me through June, and since I have the advantage of July to speak to, I can say with bratty confidence that it’s not a phase, mom.
MJ Lenderman is an artist I’m compelled to gatekeep, but can’t because Well-Read Cool Girls on the internet already found him (Rayne Fisher-Quann and Samia posted about him on Instagram earlier in July). I’m not upset about it—Samia is my all-time-favorite artist and Rayne’s duality gives me hope: runs a top-ranked newsletter and struggles to shower regularly—but, it’s important that I plant my feet ahead of the MJ trend and let everyone know that once again, I’ve been knowing.
MJ dropped “She’s Leaving You” in late June—I’ve listened to it so many times it already feels nostalgic—and announced his upcoming tour dates, which definitely contributes to all the well-deserved buzz he’s getting.
I was listening to my Spotify Discover Weekly playlist in the shower last March when “Someone Get The Grill Out Of The Rain” came through the speaker. I vividly remember maneuvering from behind the shower curtain to grab my phone from the far side of the sink so I could save the song before the playlist shuffled to the next tune I didn’t yet know. Now every time it rains I think about all the tarp-less grills out there—naked, afraid, and waiting for me to take their picture for my Instagram story with this song playing in the background. I’ve seen a lot of rain this summer, but very few grills. If you have one HMU on a rainy day. If you take my Instagram story idea, I’ll HY.
Anyways, MJ played with his band Wednesday at Newport Folk Fest this past weekend and when (if) I finish (start) my July Musings I’ll tell you about it. But for now I digress, since I don’t want to lose your attention before I get to tell you about some of the things I got up to in June. If you’re still reading this, I love you.
June Scraps
These are a few highlight events that are worth writing more about, but I feel like I just did a lot with words up there so I’m cleansing your palette with some bullet points!
Published a poem in Nic’s Pride Month Anthology (!!!)
Went to the Ethan Tasch show at Mercury Lounge (by myself) (not in a sad way)
Morning playdate with Gilly
Haley’s paperback release signing+ party
Spontaneous Monday night outing with Becky
Finally got micro-shorts
Early June Reflections
The first day of June was a sunny Saturday and I woke up before double-digits to meet Sarah, who was visiting for a quick 24-hours from Boston. We spent the early afternoon sauntering around the West Village until we met Fran and Chris for frozen margaritas at Cowgirl later in the day.
After Cowgirl, we paused at my apartment for takeout sushi with a few college friends I hadn’t seen in a while. Once the last of the friends arrived, I noticed that my apartment was much messier than I remembered leaving it that morning, which made me annoyed at myself for being exactly how I’ve always been (messy and inclined to host)—but the beauty of college friends is that they’ve seen my sophomore year dorm room and still want to hang out with me. So, my dissected suitcase in the corner, yogurt spoons in the sink, and paper scraps on the drawing table are the smallest of small potatoes.
Sarah is my first best friend from college. My origin story of early adulthood in Lancaster begins with “Sarah and I…” and ends with us recalling it years later. There’s no point in being anything but so-fucking-for-real-right-now when you’re sitting across from the person that knows who you’ve always been. We have so much fun remembering each other together. There’s lots of laughing.
Like I’ve said three times now, perhaps the most important thing I did in June was get a haircut. I can’t believe I’ve ever existed without bangs.
After my haircut, I drove out to the Hamptons for the weekend with Fran, Chris, Kach, Abbey and, of course, Stanley. It was my first time out east and if I had a dollar for every time I said wait, this kinda looks like Rhode Island I’d counteract the damage I did on my credit card. My most stylish friend Emma let me borrow a couple outfits, and I felt so pretty it was like I was the only blonde in the Hamptons.
We started the weekend at Murf’s, which was actually rated one of the top dive bars in New York a few years ago. Cool! The bouncer was smelly and rude—which, fine. But after surviving the secret service level ID-check, I expected a packed house. Nope. It was tame as a dive bar in a beach town on a Thursday. We ventured out to the back patio to smoke, and Fran let a guy in a Balenciaga shirt bum a few hits because she “appreciated his courage to ask.” We had to close the circle on him after he become frustrated and disagreeable in a conversation-turned-debate about everyone’s height. He asked everyone in the group how tall they are, then disagreed with our responses. Apparently there’s no way I am not 5’8. I had to confirm that he knew how many inches make a foot. He did, which didn’t make things better. Accepting that I’m barely 5’6 meant he’d have to accept his own stature, and he wasn’t going home 5’9 without a fight. Sucks to be so passionate and so wrong. Someone needs to bring Short King Summer to the Hamptons. They need it.
Some time that weekend I bought a painting that reminds me of something I might like, but don’t. I was hesitant about it even when I pulled out my wallet to pay. Whatever. Support your local artists!
June, from the notes app
I copy-pasted these from my notes and I’m not editing them, but I admit some things have been redacted because I am a firm believer that some things are meant to stay in the journal, babe.
Can’t stop listening to that Reddit Stories podcast. It’s the only thing holding my attention long enough to do my dishes.
The universe is rewarding me with friendship. I’m so lucky.
I’m still mad at Stanley for licking his feet
I wonder if I had too much encouragement as a child. Or not enough? Write on that.
Just woke up from a dream where I watched two Southwest airplanes crash out my window. I’ve had dreams like this before. Not sure if this is a sign or just a weed dream, but I asked Rory what airline she was flying today and was relieved she said American.
Walked to Cava but it was closed for Juneteenth so I went to Sweetgreen but felt weird that it was open on Juneteenth. Hm!
I love surprises so I never look up the set list before a show
At a concert by myself— first time! It’s empty and I’m early, but I think I rather it this way.
Gratitude is a word that feels so close to me right now. I’m corny as hell but I mean this so genuinely: I’m so grateful to be alive. I’m having so much fun with my friends. I’m happier. My hair is healthy. I look like myself. Music is good to me. I got a self tanner that doesn’t smell like rotten coconuts or stain my sheets. My lip filler is not botched. I’m wearing my long denim shorts. Nature is healing. I am healing.
I’m drinking often but it’s fine bc it’s summer and I did dry January
Ethan bought me a customized book stamper “just because”
Strut my stuff too hard listening to Brat and rammed into the turnstile bc I forgot about paying
If I don’t eat Sweetgreen or Cava what do I eat
Made that chicken but it was raw
Just saw Elle Fanning on my block. She def lives in the building next to me.
Peanut free table is the OG pandemic
It’s hard to write and share my experiences/ preferences/ opinions when the way I feel is constantly changing. I think about those Gap carpenter jeans I donated back in 2020 at least twice a month. Weep with me.
GF banana bread and pepperoni snack combo with Chris. My belly huuuurt.
Sat at a red light and felt compelled to pray. Not in a religious way I don’t think—but life just feels so good I want to keep having one. I’m looking both ways twice just in case.
Hit all the green lights on my way downtown from Chris’ apartment after feeling compelled to pray at the red light…was that an answered prayer?
Annie Hamilton sighting in Wash Square Park—so epic. Another muse I need to write about. Literally read her GQ article yesterday. No such thing as a coincidence, as they say.
Every time I say “I love living alone!” I feel like I’m lying. No idea how I feel about it except for when I’m playing dress up at midnight. That’s when I love being alone.
I saw a video of Billie Eilish talking about how she tries to act mysterious and chill (it works for her) and I’m tempted to try it out, but it’s so unnatural for me to not overshare I fear I will never be chill and mysterious
Bought new art from Caroline Calloway even though I might never receive it. Something about me is that I’m a Caroline Calloway apologist, and that might never change. What’s $100 more into the scam if you’ve already been scammed?
I’m the kind of insecure that’s constantly wondering if I talk about myself too much. And then I’m like oh, that’s a great essay starter—I should write about that in the newsletter I created to talk about myself. Like…
Okay if you made it here…wow. Thanks for reading! Validate me in the comments below.
Soon,
Callan
Your bangs!!!!! Not beating the hottest living girl in NYC allegations anytime soon!!!
you are my nyc eve babitz, i loved every bit of this!!