August Farewell

Originally posted August 30th 2023

For anyone interested, I have a film blog for screenshots here. It’s a fun visual archive I’m building up.

The day this comes out will be the day before my birthday. The final day of 28! I also forgot to change my therapy appointment so I’ll be having a session on my birthday which honestly, birthday therapy sounds great. The final year of my 20s feels a bit pointless, cause being 29 is hardly being in my 20s is it? My existential crisis before my birthday is usually scheduled in for two weeks before the day and this year is no exception. But the existentialism was more interesting when I was younger while now the conversation in my head goes something like “What am I doing with my life? Idk dude, let’s make lunch. One day I’ll just be dead, it’ll just be over! Yep, lunch now please. I’m so alone! That’s interesting, now, have you thought about lunch?” Much like a 5-year-old, if I get a wee snack, I feel better.

I don’t have any expectations for what the year will bring. I have hopes, but those are more forgiving than expectations. Finish the novel, get a good set of cohesive paintings going….get into exercise? I hope 29 is fun, I hope it’s easier than 28, that things wonderful and unexpected happen. I’m open to whatever, so long as it’s good.

I spent part of my final week of 28 getting through a 7 hour long retrospective of Resident Evil whilst balancing it out by getting through several books, half I enjoyed half I didn’t. I’ve never played Resident Evil except a brief attempt at the first one at a friends house in New Cross, having got a set up for Playstation 1 and Gamecube. But I love video game chat and people’s enthusiasm for the series, also being a horror fan I’m very aware of how the video games influence the film genre and vice versa. So yes, I watched someone chat about games I’ve never played for 7 hours because maybe, just maybe, I am a huge nerd. Who would have guessed it. But I’m trying to stop being so self-conscious about it, spending a good chunk of my 20s trying to be “cool”, no longer the kid who references Lord of the Rings none-stop. There are more important things to worry about than whether or not having a bit too much knowledge about the gaming scene makes me cool or not. I went back to watching playthroughs of Yames games, which I highly recommend for anyone who likes psychological horror and low budget indie style. The games have a haunting, Lovecraftian philosophy, and will leave you with an isolating dread. There is something terribly lonely about every one of their games. An event that no other human being has or will ever experience, severing you from the rest of humanity. I like them because they embrace the knowledge that some things will always be beyond comprehension.

I have been painting again, proper painting, this month. It feels as though an end of era for my work, something I’ve probably said before and proceeded to do the same thing. But I don’t know how else to phrase it. I finished a work, loosely based off a shot from the film Cold War, where I was continuously frustrated by my lack of control over colour. My paintings used to be so bright and the colours didn’t muddy like they have the last couple years. I don’t know what changed, but a grey sludge manages to get into every mix (I clean my brushes and the white spirit jar often). I started a new painting, leaving behind my usual cartoon human figures, needing a break from drawing the same looking bearded dude or self-portrait. I had a vision in my head, sketched out what needed to be done and now as I’m doing it, things again have become stumped by my technical ability. I’m worried about overworking. I’ve manage to avoid greying things (for now). I like what the painting represents for me, not in its literal depiction, but as an artist moving on to something vaguely new. Perhaps it wont turn out as I imagined or be technically more advanced, but there’s a element of a challenge to it that I haven’t imposed on myself in a long time. But I’m stumped by things I’m probably overthinking, the textures of walls and skies, when maybe I should focus on other sections that have yet to be started on. Maybe it looks incomplete in some sections because the painting as a whole is incomplete.

I need to go to exhibitions, see what the kids are doing. Learn to draw proper. Learn some actual colour theory. Study! 29 is the year of the student. I’ve gotten into the work of Andrew Wyeth, been delving into folk art design and studying the pile of interior design books I found on the side of the road. But I’ve been avoiding my copy of Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, proper practice is hard when I could feign study by watching some videos on youtube. There is a Monday life drawing class nearby that every week I consider and never go to. I have to practice practice. I must remember talent is useless, discipline is what’s important.

“Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but, most of all, endurance.”-James Baldwin

My headspace this last month has been uncharacteristically optimistic. Not happy giddy, but a thriving contentness. The days have been easier. I’ve found a work schedule that works for me, been eating my meals, balancing my consumption of social media.

Last week in therapy I was asked about my relationship to spirituality. I thought it was funny, because when it comes to ideas about death and god, I’m quite confident in what I believe in. My faith, or closest thing to having faith, is the belief of the unknowable. I don’t believe anyone has the answers, only clues. I’m not a nihilist despite what this may sound like. I just don’t think if there is a god that we could possibly understand what it wants or if it wants and I’m very content with that. My existentialism is far more self-centred, I’m not worried about the afterlife, I’m worried about making people upset because I died. I’m worried I’ll leave behind no one, without a family to remember me, or the other option is have people who love me be profoundly hurt. I don’t like either option, because both seem distressing. But I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I’m worried about them being right. Worried that I’ll end up alone and sad and if only I’d been a bit nicer or prettier or skinnier I wouldn’t be lonely. If only I’d been a little less desperate whilst also being the most distant person alive. I’m an amalgamation of contradictions, but as I get older the more I’m not so bothered by it (at least trying not to be rather than attempting to “fix” myself into a fine point).

I think I saw the film Past Lives, written and directed by Celine Song, at the perfect time. It’s not often that a film holds on so long after it’s finished. I felt more emotional about it after the credits ended than during the whole thing, taking its time sinking in and once it settled it wouldn’t go. I don’t want to give anything away, but it was really wonderful. I more so want to delve into how it made me think about my own life, my own missed moments. I have, as per usual, been missing London. It’s hard to believe that it’s been over a year since I left. I wonder if I squandered my chance in the city. Did I miss out on something that could have led me to a whole other life? I remember saying to friends at my leaving drinks that London was like a boyfriend I haven’t been happy with for many years and that once we finally break up I’ll feel better. I don’t think that analogy was totally correct and hasn’t aged terribly well given that I am still very much in love with that overpriced trainwreck of a place. It’s hard letting go of home.

I feel unrecognisable to it now and to those I knew there. Like a shadow of my former self. More scared, more timid. But I also don’t drink heavily at every opportunity. I don’t smoke. I’ve gained a sense of myself that wasn’t there before. Though I am reluctant to leave my past self behind, I think trying to hold onto her is holding me back. Maybe it’s time to hang up the Burley-Fisher tote bag (sorry Sam) and stop acting like a tourist. I’ve been scared to make roots here in New York. Maybe that’s partially why I’ve been scared to go out, I don’t want to get too attached. I want this year to be different.

When I turned 28, I just wanted to survive. It was a sad little birthday I spent mostly alone. 26 and 27 was spent getting too drunk and during peak pandemic. 25 was spent helping my parents move then going to a monster truck rally with Ethan (best birthday probably ever).

As I’m writing this, I don’t know what I’m going to do for 29. Only that I’m going to make carrot cake and that’s already a step up from last year. I bought a bottle of cava for the evening. I’ll go to the cheesemonger and get a sharp cheddar and a baguette. Maybe I’ll go to the fancy butcher shop and get something nice to make for dinner or maybe I’ll go out. I kinda want to go out. I know it’s corny to say I don’t want to just survive I want to thrive, but, that’s it innit?

I have been listening to Kali Malone’s Living Torch while writing the novel and I finally feel like I’m broken through the slump I’ve been in the past year in regards to the story. I was stuck at a section for so long I kind of gave up on it. But I began handwriting in a blank composition notebook, the school I was working at last week was giving them away so I grabbed like 10 of ‘em, and I finally feel like I’m on the final stretch. Like, there’s still a lot to write, but it’s clear in my head what needs to be done and all I need to do is to get it down. It’s exciting and sad. There’s still dreaded editing and rewrites to be done, but it’ll be different knowing that the story has ended. Kali Malone’s music has seemed to recentre me, aiding me in my approach.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the film Columbus from 2017, written and directed by Kogonada. Keep seeing shots from it in my head. There’s a building in the movie that I once painted, it lingers and passes by me, and I am reminded of when I watched it last year, my life about to be utterly changed, not yet knowing just by how much. I recall a friend I saw it with at the time remarking on how it reflected our own lives. Both of us about to go off into the world in new and different ways. And maybe only recently have I accepted that change.

Thanks for reading,

Enya x

Who Is Wellness For? by Fariha Róisín- A well research and argued book about the wellness, self-care and new age industries. Róisín is someone I’ve been following since OG Tumblr/Rookie Mag days and I was excited when she announced this book. I’ve found recently a lot of non-fiction books seem to just point things out like “this is messed up, ain’t it?” without offering an alternative or really saying anything. Róisín does not fall into this trend and makes a great argument for reforming wellness and the importance taking care of ourselves is in modern culture. And asking what it means to actually take care of yourself (spoiler: it’s not buying bathbombs off amazon). I really enjoyed this book and am looking forward to whatever Róisín does next.

No Pain Like This Body by Harold Sonny Ladoo- If you don’t know anything about Harold Sonny Ladoo, I’d recommend going into this book without knowing his story then looking afterwards. It’s a short glimpse into a family’s life in Trinidad, written beautifully by Ladoo and the mundane tragedy of the characters never feels trite. There is an element of acceptance of their circumstances because poverty offers little to no other options. I have read some books that are very on the nose about themes and whatnot but this book never feels like it’s trying to teach you something, it’s telling its story whether or not you’re listening. Something about it feels like it must have been cathartic for the author, the way the words rush out. It’s a book I will be recommending to many (and thank you Bianca for getting it on my radar).

Cursed Bread by Sophie Mackintosh- Cursed Bread didn’t really land for me. I had a feeling of predictability while reading it, I’m sure all the clues at the beginning were meant to do that, but I lost interest very quickly because I had guessed everything that would happen for the next 200 pages. I would have liked some more mystery, but that may be at the fault of conventions. I’m not a huge fan of the “new woman comes to town and female protagonist becomes obsessed with her” that I have read so many times and rarely do I find it done well. Like. There are great lesbian novels. There are great erotic thrillers. This is neither of those. I can only read about women in loveless marriages fantasizing about a mysterious woman so many times before I start asking “Ok, cool, but is the story any good?”. Maybe it’s a me problem, but I am not impressed when you show your hand in the first 10 pages of the book.

Fish Swimming in Dappled Sunlight by Riku Onda, trans. Alison Watts-This was recommended to me at Kramers and it dawned on me very quickly that this was a standard mystery book. It’s not really my genre but I would like a film version. It’s like a play, a couple spending the final night of their tenancy together before going their separate ways (they both think the other killed someone). I feel I should have liked it more since it’s a bit like a Coen brothers miscommunication thing. But it lacked…pizzazz. I think it may have been an issue with translation and the language not being quite there for me.

The Doom Generation (1995)- Up until this year, the only version of this film you could see was a highly censored Blockbuster VHS rip, much to the chagrin of the director, Gregg Araki, who said in an interview recently that he’d rather you not have seen the film at all. Well, I didn’t know that when I was in my late teens/early 20s when I watched this for the first time, the terrible VHS quality evident. Now finally getting to see the restored version, in all its perverted and gory glory (and my god, the amount that was cut out). Araki is highly underrated in my opinion and his movies are outlandish, visionary and mad. Which of course I love. And with all that, there are maybe two people I can recommend this too without being labelled a degenerate.

Exotica (1994)-I can’t remember why this was on my to watch list or if it was recommended to me but here we are. Exotica is a strip club where several people, all linked by tragedy, work or patronise. I had assumed it was going to be an erotic thriller but that is not the case. It is a film about grief and heartbreak with the charming awkwardness only a 90s film can possess. I don’t know if it made much of an impression on me, but it’s a visually beautiful film and I liked it overall. On the more negative side, it was very much written by a man. There are certain elements that don’t work as intended. It’s more of a male fantasy about grief than something that had to opportunity to have a bit more nuance.

The Seventh Seal (1957)-This is one of those films you hear about for years yet most people you know haven’t seen. It has the iconic image of death playing chess on the beach. I was never interested in it until I started watching other Ingmar Bergman films and thought since it’s his most popular one I should give it a go. I can see why it’s his most popular but it is not my favourite as it’s the most simple of the ones I’ve seen. It’s a plague film, so you know going into it’s probably not going to be terribly happy. But there is a good balance, people still live their lives, get into petty fights, have their own philosophies. There was something comforting with all the talk about the end of the world, while the acting troupe still tried to entertain.

Beach Rats (2017)-A slow, minimal dialogue film that as I watched, a sense of doom sunk in. It felt so helpless and mundane. In the most complimentary way. The film did exactly what it set out to do, which is hard. The slow dreariness. Everyone is playing their roles and no one wants to be. Suffocating masculinity. I don’t think I’m selling this, but I recommend.

Totally F***ed Up (1993)-This film used to be impossible to find online, then I thought “Let me look it up on Criterion since they restored Doom Generation” and there it was! Finally getting to see this movie is a big check off the bucket list due to how long I searched, ebay dvd watchlists and faulty streaming links abound. It’s the first in Gregg Araki’s Teen Apocalypse Trilogy (In order: Totally F***ed Up, The Doom Generation and Nowhere). It was the last time Araki did the cinematography for his own films and I love seeing the foundations for what would become his signature style. The dialogue, as usual in the trilogy, it so corny that it goes overboard into intentional comedy. 90s nihilism is overflowing! (and like the rest of the trilogy, it’s incredibly gay).

Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016)-I remember seeing this with a friend at Ritzy cinema in Brixton and the only other people there was like 2 or 3 elderly people who did not laugh the whole time as my friend and I cackled. Watched this time ‘round with my mom ‘cause she hadn’t seen it and it was on Netflix. Always a nice watch, granted, I think I’ve seen it too many times now, so it wasn’t as laugh out loud as before.

Where Is My Friend’s House? (1987)-I used to take a drawing class where we’d watch movies and pause on random frames, draw for 5 minutes, then move on. This movie reminded me a lot of the type of films we’d watch. It’s a beautiful Iranian film, following 8-year-old Ahmad trying to return his friend’s school notebook, lest his friend be expelled after several warnings from their teacher. As beautiful as it was I was STRESSED for this kid. This is the type of film I’ll recommend people watch forever.

Winter Boy (2022)- I saw a comment that said the lead actor looked like Nick Drake and I could not unsee it. I want to compare it to 2021’s Drive My Car, but only for their shared meditation on grief and the long shots of cars driving in winter. But that’s mostly where the similarities end. I liked this film while also having a lot of issues with it. Certain directorial choices I found annoying, the cutting to and from interview style narration took away from the story more than adding to it. I think it’s two stories put into one, neither getting enough time to breathe despite the two-hour run time.

Videodrome (1983)- Cronenberg 2023 continues with Videodrome, “Long live the new flesh” and all that jazz. I was disappointed to find I was pretty meh about this one. Probably because I was expecting more of an all out gore-fest when this was much more restrained (but this is a relative thing, it is still quite graphic). But I like Cronenberg’s approach as always, a strange philosophy of the body I cannot help but adore. I want to rewatch this and not be so focused on expectations but enjoy the movie for what it is.

Past Lives (2023)-This could be contender for favourite movie I’ve seen this year (it has a few to battle it out with) and definitely taking the best movie of 2023 for me (unless something surprises me later in the year but I doubt it). Everyone in this movie is great, I love all of them. Something that made me really love it was how uncynical it was. A wonderful movie about love, life and possibility.

Albums on repeat:

Dummy by Portishead

The Greater Wings by Julie Bryne

Preachers Daughter by Ethel Cain

Living Torch by Kali Malone