Time has simply zipped the fuck by, spring is over, summer is HERE (I think), and it’s Memorial Day Weekend in America, baby—a strange and weird long weekend that’s usually punctuated by outdoor activities enacted in close quarters with people you love or at least sort of care about, a drink in both hands and the bare grass on your feet.
However, this Memorial Day will be different. Still, summer’s beautiful promise does not have to be squelched by our current state of affairs—life has handed us all a moldy bag of lemons, but you can still squeeze some of that shit into a tall vodka soda and make it work, bitch!!
It is impossible to say what the Jezebel staff would be doing for the holiday weekend if there weren’t a pandemic, and imagining anything other than this current reality gives me the vapors and is therefore of no use. But a holiday weekend is a holiday weekend, baby, so we’re all going to make the most of it.
My Memorial Day plans are to repot some of my plants, especially my massive monstera that is taking over the living room of my apartment. And maybe I’ll grill a bit too if I’m feeling inspired. I really just wanna sit on my stoop and chill while the folks across the street blast music. Ideal!
I’ll be playing a trivia game with friends and trying to take long walks.
I will be spending all weekend with the only living creature I’ve touched for months, my dog Frankie. She’s been enjoying, or at least not objecting to, the massages I’ve been giving her that lately have been feeling, how do I put it, a little too romantic.
My Memorial Day plans are to sit in my recently-bought kiddie pool, which is for toddlers and also the only one I could find, and smoke as many joints as humanly possible until I am unable to even stand up. And maybe I will make some spaghetti.
I’m making a brisket and drinking orange wine like it’s Kool-Aid.
I am going to sit in my backyard on my picnic table and hiss at any of my neighbors who try to come outside while I’m outside.
My Memorial Day plans are stuffing my toddler full of home-frozen popsicles made out of fruit juice and watching her run around a sprinkler from a lawn chair.
I’ll probably spend the weekend doing what I always do: picking up and putting down books, planning and failing to execute elaborate baking projects, and furiously exercising in a 10-square-foot space on the side of my bedroom—all in some futile attempt at ‘relaxation.’
This weekend, I have an appointment to potentially buy a bike, because I am tired of seething with jealousy anytime I see one of my friends travel farther than walking distance away from their home. I only really bike in spin class and in the desert at Burning Man, so fingers crossed the rest of my Memorial Day weekend doesn’t include me being hit by a car!
Ever since the chair entered my life, my weekends have changed irrevocably for the better. This weekend, I will probably answer a FaceTime or three, read one of the ten books that I’ve tried to read, and see how that goes. My guess is that I’ll make it through The Chiffon Trenches and that will feel like a beautiful achievement. Otherwise, I’ll eat a lot of edibles and listen to Howard Stern while wearing the new bathing suits I bought in a moment of extreme boredom. Maybe I’ll embroider a tea towel. I won’t bake anything. I will see if the cat will let me fit in the hole in the cat tree. Sky’s the limit!
I will be doing what I do every weekend: Living a regimented life that aspires to self-improvement but is, in all likelihood, just passing the time. I usually wake up around 8 am and read for two hours, one hour goes to The Economist, the next whatever book I’m reading (currently, it’s the upcoming gay-history account titled The Deviant’s War). Then I will usually meditate and after that, clean for a bit. Ideally, I’d work out in my living room to get it out of the way before my walk, but I drink a lot of water when I work out and I walk far on my walks, so doing things in that order always makes me have to pee with no access to a bathroom. In all likelihood, the walk will come first. On it, I will listen to the celebrity memoir I am currently listening to, Keith Richards’s Life. (Did you know that he wrote “Satisfaction” in his sleep and that the final version of the song was just supposed to be the demo? The guitar tone was to mimic the horns that he envisioned on the finished product, but the demo ended up getting rush-released and the rest is rock and roll history.) Then I will work out in my living room. I’ll probably read a little bit more or maybe watch an episode of Life Goes On, which I’m slowly making my way through, before ordering dinner and watching something with my boyfriend. We started the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise, which I hope to continue, though recently after watching The Dark Knight, which bored the shit out of us, he complained that my movie selections are too popcorn, so we may watch something off the Criterion Channel by Fellini or Fassbinder. There is a chance I’ll do a FaceTime or Zoom call in there. Always a chance of that.
Interspersed will be directing tons of love and attention to my cat, Prince, whom I worship more than any god I’ve ever met and have started calling Snoots. Now that I have the time, I may make him a Jezebel celebrity in the next few weeks. Stay tuned!!!
I’m going to drive around aimlessly in my car for 20 minutes or so and then maybe try to get past the first third of any of the 20 books I’ve started and not finished.
I’m going to hike 6-8 hours with a bunch of weight on my back and then, once night falls in the wilderness, I’m going to eat rehydrated meals out of a plastic bag. I am going to also try to not fall off the mountain.