sixty degrees

americanized americans spell things with z and speak in fahrenheit. i have started to do one of these things, but looking outside and marveling at sixty degrees is not one i see myself doing any time soon.

when the sun comes out in february in the north east, everything changes. suddenly, shorts and vests are mandatory regardless of the breeze, and footballs spin past girls spinning each other. suddenly, yellow track pants are made brighter by the sun, and three people bounce on a slack line tied between trees. sixty degrees and the world is right again, complete with music and longboards.

being outside feels like children laughing; things are lighter somehow, and even the boys throwing a baseball between themselves seem not to take themselves too seriously. it’s not easy to look up when the promise of more is as fleeting as that of sun in february.

people pass by and the breeze blows through them, and the two sitting on the slack line continue to squat on it. it’s purim. things are right.

love and light,
shalom xo


uranus | atlas

this is uranus: of endings and realizations.

it’s sort of picturesque, really: you on the porch and me still on the other side of the door, both of us knowing that neither of us has the strength to say what we both need to hear. it’s as though a chorus of angels powered by flame could appear and the whole world would still just be you, me, and our cowardice.

if love is anything, let it be everything. the words sit on my right hipbone where your left used to rest, except they feel as hollow as the cave your collarbones made in your neck. make. you are still you, collarbones and all, and i am aware that no matter how lovely, i cannot stay here anymore.

we exchange hellos like we’re still in love because maybe we are, but maybe we’re just tired enough to collapse into anything that was once home. maybe you are still home. maybe i missed the eviction notice and got thrown out anyway. maybe i still love you. maybe it doesn’t matter when the friction is lost.

the last time we kiss feels like a big crash in a song that i didn’t know was coming, because my heart swells from the beating it is taking and my brain tells me to remember how everything feels, tastes, smells, but you are not there. we kiss and i try to taste you but i only taste my chapstick and i know it’s all been me. i don’t know how long you’ve been gone, but i know you’re not there the way i am.

you leave and it’s sad how refreshing heartbreak can be. sometimes the sky looks like it’s made out of layers of blue, each more chipped than the last. sometimes the sky looks like an angry god, displeased with all of his children born of the earth. sometimes, i forget that we live under him.

when i cry, i do not forget.

don’t cry, 2020

my name is shalom and i am in the terrible ten year habit of understanding that doing something will directly impact me negatively, and doing it anyway. simple things, like don’t pick at a pimple, or a scab, or a tattoo. my name is shalom and i have done all of these things in the last 72 hours. good day, pals.

the weather does a weird thing on this side of the world. on saturday night, the campus was covered in snow and we went sledding in garbage bags, and two days later it was shorts weather. global warming is really doing her thing, and it’s a big shame.

the point of this was to tell you all that the abec has started. if you’re new around here, abec stands for annual birthday existential crisis. every year without fail for the last ten years. guys, i’m turning twenty this year and i have no idea what to do with myself. i’m trying to get around to finishing the exercise guide that i bought while very manic and also trying to be comfy in my flesh suit. it’s the only one i’ve got, so i may as well start getting settled if i’m gonna be in it for another twenty years (and hopefully a couple more twenty years after that).

these days when i get dressed in the morning – which isn’t very often. i spent a disgusting amount of time of the day unshowered and in pyjamas, and my pj’s are often just the clothes i wore yesterday (but enough about my gross habits) – i’ve been saying some lyrics to myself. sometimes it’s pinegrove, sometimes it’s walk the moon, but recently it’s been coin:

put on your make up
i laid out your favourite swearter
it’s just a number, darling
dry your eyes

it’s just a number. it’s two decades of open hearts and messy words, and at least one decade of trying to appreciate myself, but it’s just a number.

dry your eyes, friends. tonight is just another day.

love and light,

hey wassup hello

fellas, ya girl is going through it. again. all the time.

right, so i’m coming to you powered by apple sauce and potato chips and nothing that’s ever come out of my brain has ever been so college. i’m not tired. there’s just so much stuff that i need to put away in my brain, but all the shelves are already full and i am frustrated with the storage situation up there. for example, i need to store the joy that i got from  hearing that the manager that fired me from my first job has in turn left – i love things happening in due time – but i also need to store all the recipes from my new job. i need to store the fact that i signed up for 5:30 am shifts so that i can have some evenings to myself, but also that i am behind in linguistics and that it is a problem.

at the moment, i have an athena ring that i bought for $5 and it’s all that’s powering me. that and the potato chips and apple sauce. i really intended to write more this year, but it’s been a dry season in creative shalom land. there are no rains to bless down in the africa of my brain.

here’s whats good, familia and friends that i haven’t talked to because i’m terrible at communicating, and also strangers on the internet: school is fine. it’s school but it’s fine. work hasn’t started yet but it’s okay so far. it’s a lot, but it’s okay. managing a band is a time and a half. more emails than ever, but still one hell of a time. my brain is okay. my body is a little less okay, but she’s gonna be fine.

lads, we still have good music and travel, so things cannot be all bad. i’ve been in america for six months! a lot of things are different and a lot of things are broken, but i am better for it. i’m better.

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | jan ’18

Finally, January is ending. This month has dragged like and held on to me like a child who hasn’t yet learned object permanence. I’ve spent too much time in pharmacies this month, and too little time in the gym. I miss the gym. Is endorphin withdrawal a thing?

This is coming to you late because I spent the first day of February in a hospital. Happy antibiotics appreciation month!

January started and ended with illness, but the in between was pretty much alright. I got my ears blown out at basement shows and danced around my room with old and new friends. January treated me kindly, for the most part, and I’m grateful for the lessons learned. Most recently, that sometimes you have to go to the ER and it’s not great. I saw my favourite band in the front row right on the barrier, and I will never be the same after freezing my ass off in New York City for ten hours prior to the show. When the weather gets below a certain point, my toes remind me of an ill-decided run on new year’s eve. It was worth it, but sometimes I think I actually have frostbite, and then it seems not so worth it.

Anyway, it’s been a good month for my brain despite the crazy dark days that happen in the northern hemisphere, and I’m waking up at 6 tomorrow. Let’s get to the good stuff.

tunes and vidz

my girl eats mayonnaise from a jar while she’s getting blazed

the part where he goes lalalalalalalala is the best part.

and i could not muster the courage to say a single word 

snippets of internal monologue

  • ok but…how do i say…you are the most perfect person to exist without saying that?
  • oh no. i do want to make them pancakes.
  • no gatorade? big problem
  • but who will help my tiddies

Lads, it’s a shorter one this time around because I am tired. Also, I’ve said what needs and wants to be said. Should be enough. Also, I’ve been on this blog for five years this year. What?

love and light,
shalom xo