The 2024cast

Farewell 2023, you sassy little bitch of a year. 🎀

Hi friends!

Against all odds we have made it to the finish line of another Gregorian year. I’m so proud of us and delighted to share that I took a full week off from scheming and plotting, which was difficult but necessary, and haven’t felt this rested in months. Hope you had a wonderful Christmas break and that family member misbehavior was at an all time low if you felt compelled to enter that danger zone.

My big brother flew all the way from Australia to come chill with me in Los Angeles and we had so much fun. In our people’s tradition, we enjoyed a ceremonial Chinese food and movie night — I dragged him to “The Iron Claw” and was extremely moved by Zac Efron’s performance, which won’t get the accolades it deserves because he looks like … this … but he is so excellent and I can’t wait for you all to watch him on a plane.

At this point, there’s not much left to say about 2023, the year that brought us the unhinged highs of submersible week and the deranged lows of the most horrifying shit to ever grace a phone screen. Somewhere in the middle was Joe Biden’s obvious facelift and an extraordinary uptick in Instagram DM fights. 2023 will go down as many things, but for me, it was the year I became fully radicalized against stupidity, and that is now my cross to bear.

Before my radicalization, in a fit of optimism, I wondered aloud if the vibes could be saved. I’m now sorry to say that they are too far gone. Like when someone pees in a pool, the Unhingement has infiltrated every facet of life, and we would have to drain the whole thing to cleanse it. How would we even do that? Guess we’ll just have to let people be nuts at the airport, keep encouraging George Santos to create content, and prepare for more state-sanctioned alien discourse.

my plans tonight.

Amidst all the wild happenings, I managed to compartmentalize the fact that this particular new year brings us a presidential election here in America which means a whole cast of geriatric ghouls and provocative goblins are about to haunt center stage. Part of me can’t believe we’re already doing this again and the other part thinks that 2020 was three years long, 2021 was a decade, we hit skip on 2022, and 2023 was a slow-climbing rollercoaster that left most of us feeling nauseous after the final loop. So, what even is four years as a unit of measurement?

One thing I do know for certain is that while many states can try and stop him, Donald Trump will be running for president amidst his criminal trials and tribulations and there is a very good chance that the Georgia case will be televised this summer and into the fall. I’m already lighting a candle for the extremely online community. Gwyneth Paltrow serving up patrician ski lodge whimsy in cashmere and aviators was a vibe that dared to wish us well. These Trump trials, well, prayers up for us all.

me getting ready to live the next 12 months in America.

Will this new year be one of improved collective sanity? No, friends, it shan’t. The world order’s ongoing menty b is set to continue and so is the commentary around it. But we made it to 2024, so we’re all survivors, survivors of it all, whatever our personal mix of it all from the past several years may be. And like a Housewife on Ozempic, we are now equipped with the juice we need to reach our final form.

2024’s early vibes are giving forward momentum and action. We all need to live a little and it feels like a great time to shoot your shot — that pent up derangement needs somewhere to go — and a lot of bold moves and new paths are in store for everyone. What do any of us have to lose at this point, our last few good braincells? Those fuckers won survival of the fittest, they’re not going anywhere.

I have a great feeling that this will be the year so many of us see the seeds we’ve been planting blossom into something beautiful. These days, we are all but humble gardeners, tending to our small patch of sanity. Our diligent care and dedication has sown the seeds of hope, decency, and money for new shoes (2024 is a huge year for looking incredible). We nurtured our seeds with patience, gave them all the love we could muster, and shielded them from the haters. Despite the weeks we forgot to water them, little sprouts have emerged, and we’re not far now from the magnificent blooms we’ve been waiting for. Big harvest energy abounds.

I also foresee us descending further into absurdity which I am here for since cackling is my personal favorite coping mechanism. We suffered a real meme drought in Q4 of 2023, but now, like a smiling Pop-Tart’s televised descent into self-immolation, we, too, can live our dreams. My dream (and 2024 resolution) is to repair my broken attention span that has somehow gone from bad to worse to clinically beyond the pale. More to come on that, I’m sure.

Starting this newsletter and connecting with you all was by far the best part of my year. The vibes out there may be busted but the ones over here are feeling pretty, pretty good. As always, I’m so grateful that you’re here sharing your time with me, and I can’t wait to chronicle all the crazy to come. What a journey it will be.

See you next year!

Liz