before i say anything, i feel like i should introduce myself: i found your account while spiraling down random writers’ following lists, and that moment is one of my favorite happy accidents. i devoured your substack in a day-long fugue state. you’ve introduced me to so much incredible media, and your analysis of lolita was some of the best i’ve seen for one of my favorite works.
this is all secondary to the primary draw of your substack: you are a fantastic writer. your prose is beautiful, and i’ve found segments of your essays flashing before my eyes during opportune moments. if you care about internet clout at all, i’ll say you’re dreadfully underrated.
i’ve wanted to leave comments for a while now, but your writing left me in such a trance i couldn’t have collected my thoughts for a bit LOL. this one though, hoo boy …
i also grew up in the mid-south and am in a heavily transitory period of my life, so i don’t think i could have read this essay at a better time. this is an essay i’m sure i’ll revisit when the aforementioned period is over. reading this essay felt like looking into an imminent feeling: i haven’t left my hometown yet, but i know when i do and visit back, it’s going to feel a lot like this.
i think part of that is my personal connection with the setting— your descriptions of louisville feel like my hometown with names changed. i think that’s the beauty of the sameness of living in “a nondescript suburb that could have existed anywhere in middle america—” that picture of the twig & leaf diner looks like something five minutes away from me. when you say your coffee shops have closed down, i grieve too. (and when you say you get pissed at people denying the south hope because of dated stereotypes, i get pissed too LMFAO)
there’s a lot in here i relate to— my religious upbringing also left me in naive shock at the frankly mundane actions of my self-destructive friends, even if i still looked at their edgy tastes with wide-eyed admiration. i’ve met a lot of people who “identified within me a desperate, oppressive earnestness that i fear (they) never fully exorcized from me—“ and, again, that beginning description of how you spent your summers felt like it was ripped from my teenage schedule.
at the same time, there’s a lot in here i don’t relate to either, and i mean this in the best way possible. i remember you described returning to louisville as stepping into a snowglobe, and i feel like i’m looking into that snowglobe whenever you share an anecdote. that story about the napa river santa was very sweet. louisville sounds like a beautiful place.
as per usual, your writing either stuns me with its relatability or holds my hand through a foreign experience; your prose is so evocative that i can’t help but feel what you were feeling too.
(your essays also remind me of god help the girl’s titular song “god help the girl,” in case you ever wondered if someone out there has given your blog a theme song LMFAO)
thank you so much rea! i really appreciate you taking the time to leave this thoughtful comment. i'm glad this essay resonated with you, and i hope when this transitory period of your life is over it can continue to provide comfort. and thank you for reading my lolita thesis! i honestly posted that before i started gaining followers or trying to maintain a regular posting schedule on here, so it's kind of a deepcut hehe
I’m home in the south not for the holidays but waiting for a seasonal job to open up again across the country (Florida to California). This made my heart ache... the last few lines
achingly beautiful writing as always. i'm back home now too, and truly think only southern girls will understand <3
this one rly is for the mid-south girls 🩷
Beautiful work.
before i say anything, i feel like i should introduce myself: i found your account while spiraling down random writers’ following lists, and that moment is one of my favorite happy accidents. i devoured your substack in a day-long fugue state. you’ve introduced me to so much incredible media, and your analysis of lolita was some of the best i’ve seen for one of my favorite works.
this is all secondary to the primary draw of your substack: you are a fantastic writer. your prose is beautiful, and i’ve found segments of your essays flashing before my eyes during opportune moments. if you care about internet clout at all, i’ll say you’re dreadfully underrated.
i’ve wanted to leave comments for a while now, but your writing left me in such a trance i couldn’t have collected my thoughts for a bit LOL. this one though, hoo boy …
i also grew up in the mid-south and am in a heavily transitory period of my life, so i don’t think i could have read this essay at a better time. this is an essay i’m sure i’ll revisit when the aforementioned period is over. reading this essay felt like looking into an imminent feeling: i haven’t left my hometown yet, but i know when i do and visit back, it’s going to feel a lot like this.
i think part of that is my personal connection with the setting— your descriptions of louisville feel like my hometown with names changed. i think that’s the beauty of the sameness of living in “a nondescript suburb that could have existed anywhere in middle america—” that picture of the twig & leaf diner looks like something five minutes away from me. when you say your coffee shops have closed down, i grieve too. (and when you say you get pissed at people denying the south hope because of dated stereotypes, i get pissed too LMFAO)
there’s a lot in here i relate to— my religious upbringing also left me in naive shock at the frankly mundane actions of my self-destructive friends, even if i still looked at their edgy tastes with wide-eyed admiration. i’ve met a lot of people who “identified within me a desperate, oppressive earnestness that i fear (they) never fully exorcized from me—“ and, again, that beginning description of how you spent your summers felt like it was ripped from my teenage schedule.
at the same time, there’s a lot in here i don’t relate to either, and i mean this in the best way possible. i remember you described returning to louisville as stepping into a snowglobe, and i feel like i’m looking into that snowglobe whenever you share an anecdote. that story about the napa river santa was very sweet. louisville sounds like a beautiful place.
as per usual, your writing either stuns me with its relatability or holds my hand through a foreign experience; your prose is so evocative that i can’t help but feel what you were feeling too.
(your essays also remind me of god help the girl’s titular song “god help the girl,” in case you ever wondered if someone out there has given your blog a theme song LMFAO)
fantastic work as always 🫶
thank you so much rea! i really appreciate you taking the time to leave this thoughtful comment. i'm glad this essay resonated with you, and i hope when this transitory period of your life is over it can continue to provide comfort. and thank you for reading my lolita thesis! i honestly posted that before i started gaining followers or trying to maintain a regular posting schedule on here, so it's kind of a deepcut hehe
I’m home in the south not for the holidays but waiting for a seasonal job to open up again across the country (Florida to California). This made my heart ache... the last few lines
i hope you get it 💌
stunningly written. thank u!!!
such a beautiful and touching ode to growing up in louisville. amazing
unbelievably beautiful
The childhood in a southern suburb to nyc transplant pipeline is soooo real
many such cases!