With Vibes Like These, Who Needs Enemies?
The Derangement Diaries: Vol. 1
Hi friends!
Well … this is what we call a vortex of Unhingement. Things are not going great. But here we are, still alive in 2024. Are we breathing intentionally? Are we existing in this world-gone-satire without going balls-to-the-wall insane? I love that for us.
I know it’s been a couple of timelines since I last wrote to you, but in my defense, I don’t want to work.
I needed a full two weeks off for birthday galavanting and schmoozing because my vibe had been flatlining and we can’t have that. Then, I was tired from all the galavanting (never the schmoozing, that’s chicken soup for my unhinged soul) and I needed another week to wrap my head around the malleability of this new “reality” and what the fuck is going on.
I have, of course, been out of my mind. But I’ve also been doing the most. I think the best way to catch you all up is to share some excerpts from my recent diaries.
Friday, November 1, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 1
I land in Toronto with my Canadian passport chained to my body. My dad picks me up at the world’s second-worst airport. Over pho, with our birthdays both on the docket that week, we decide it’s time to start lying about our ages. I go with 32 because it seems believable.
I reunite with my brother, who flew in from Australia with his seven-year-old son a mere 48 hours ago, yet somehow seems less jet lagged than I do. He asks if we should walk over to the local dispensary to stock up on Canada’s sublime, legal weed drinks. I have no choice but to oblige. I buy a pre-roll, too.
Saturday, November 2, 2024
Drinks: 3, weed level: 1, cigarettes: 2
The Canadians are very worried about Trump winning, but unbridled delusion is the stance I take at my dad’s birthday party when anyone asks me about the election. I meet a truly alarming amount of boomers who read this very newsletter and claim to enjoy it. Realize old, Jewish men are an important demo for me.
After three white wine spritzers, knowing there’s a gas station around the corner, I develop a hankering for some Belmont Milds, my childhood cigarettes. Unhingement level bordering on “high,” I buy a pack, and smoke two.
Monday, November 4, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 1, cigarettes: 0
Am reprieved of spiraling thoughts about election by spending afternoon with very elderly grandparents. Horrors return upon looking at phone.
Tuesday, November 5, 2024
Drinks: 2, weed level: 3, Xanax: 1, cigarettes: unclear
10 am: Cannot quite believe this wretched moment has arrived and alleged resolution will be had. Decide to do all my work for the week in one day for ultimate distraction.
5 pm: Not feeling great about the vibes after trusted friend in Los Angeles says she felt called to commune with murder of crows.
7 pm: Go to dinner with dad. Feel insane and mostly consume vodka and olive brine.
9:30 pm: Weather is unseasonably, unsettlingly warm for November in Canada. Bad for future of planet, good for chain smoking outside while reconsidering entire life.
10:30 pm: Brother and nephew return from watching the Toronto Maple Leafs win. Another unexpected victory, but one we can welcome. I am, no shit, feeling a bit shocked by the election results coming in. “Yeah,” says my brother who has eavesdropped on all my conversations for four days and hoarded his commentary for this very moment, “I didn’t want to say it, but you only talk to smart people. I go on X, so I’m not surprised.”
1 am: I do some derangement math and figure it has been long enough since my liquid dinner to take a Xanax.
Wednesday, November 6, 2024
Drinks: 5, weed level: 3, cigarettes: unclear
Will not let election of vile, hateful goblin ruin my thirty-second birthday. Have breakfast plans, lunch plans, spa plans, drink(s) plans, and dinner plans. All that and my nephew has drawn me an extraordinary picture of Shrek.
I meet my best friend Daniel at the Four Seasons for a ridiculous aromatherapy massage after which we sit in front of a “reflection pool.”
In lieu of reflecting on demise of American democracy, reflect on the past year of my life. What a fucking journey. Am I having apocalypse glow up?
Plan to rail against repugnant post-election vibes by relaxing at spa in Canada all afternoon is a huge success. Perfect dinner at favorite restaurant in Toronto with two of my very best friends is the cherry on top.
Friday, November 8, 2024
Drinks: 1, weed level: 1, cigarettes: 2
Have been with family for nearly entire week. Now headed to New York in crazy mood with several packs of Canadian cigarettes. Mood becomes crazier when forced to check bag because airport security assumes intention to make bomb from Sephora samples if collection too large for state-sanctioned ziploc bag. Am on hold with customer service demanding refund for bag fee when I notice my flight might be boarding.
“Is this 2pm to New York?” I ask Ann Dowd, because why wouldn’t the random passenger I ask be the actress that plays Aunt Lydia on The Handmaid’s Tale, and why wouldn’t she be on my flight back to America? “Oh my god, it’s you,” I mouth at her dramatically, not wanting to be that person but also unable to resist.
Customer service finally picks up and will not refund me. I wonder if I hallucinated the whole Aunt Lydia thing.
I didn’t. She’s sitting in the first row and gives me a knowing look when I board the plane. While I do love being in on the cosmic joke and appreciate a good bit from the universe, I hate this omen. Soothe myself with pinot grigio and a tiny bag of potato chips.
Saturday, November 9, 2024
Drinks: 1, weed level: 2, cigarettes: 5
I wake up in New York. The city smells like a toaster oven gone wrong because Prospect Park is on fire. While I’m waiting for Daniel to journey from Newark, TikTok feeds me a stream of conspiracies that Trump and Elon stole the election. Honestly, why not?
Have tickets to Sunset Boulevard that evening because we saw this TikTok of Rosie O’Donnell crying at a preview and just knew it was for us. But controversy has descended on THE show of THE season after Nicole Scherzinger, Pussycat Doll and newly minted broadway darling, has been revealed as possible Trump supporter by a dumb comment she left on a Russell Brand Instagram post.
We hear rumors that she was booed last night!
THE show of THE season is now really THE show of THE season because you can go see a spectacular performance and then chase it with some nauseating discourse about a Pussycat Doll’s politics.
After a long day of walking around with coffee and then a 2 hour nap, I am too lazy to take the subway to the theater and, like, who knew that traffic would be so bad? We have to get out of an Uber and run through Times Square to make the show.
We slide into our seats with not a moment to spare and consider auditioning for The Amazing Race. The Pussycat Doll is breathtaking.
Monday, November 11, 2024
Drinks: 4, weed level: 0, cigarettes: 3
I wake up feeling panicked. Am I the girl who cried Canada? What should I do? Where is Ann Dowd? Maybe she’ll know?
Have my daily 10 minute fear cry and feel a little better.
Daniel and I get bagels, and he talks me off the ledge. “You get overwhelmed packing a suitcase,” he says, “just take it one day at a time.”
He goes back to Toronto. I calmly pack my suitcase and go to Williamsburg where I take a beautiful walk in weather that is way too nice for November and revisit where I lived so many years ago, back when Williamsburg and I were both less gentrified. Then, I get kind of drunk on a Monday night with some very fun friends that I haven’t seen in years.
Tuesday, November 12, 2024
Drinks: 2, weed level: 0, cigarettes: 2
Realize the ever-present, weird feeling I’ve had since the pandemic has vanished and identify it as clinical boredom.
Friday, November 15, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 0, cigarettes: 2
Back in Los Angeles, I’m happy to be home but also not ready to face reality. Luckily, have appointment booked with astrologer — 11/10 birthday gift from cousin Snacky — and get to spend two exhilarating hours talking about myself on Zoom.
Sunday, November 17, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 5, cigarettes: 1
Catch up on all the news I have been avoiding and wonder if I can pull off pivoting this newsletter to dense bean salad recipes until the aliens emerge from the ocean.
Tuesday, November 19, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 7, cigarettes: 3 (inside my apartment)
2 pm: Invent a wonderful new coping mechanism that I call a “weed walk.” It’s pretty simple, you just smoke a little weed and go for a nice, brisk walk before it gets dark, ideally during work hours if you work from home. You can only get a little bit stoned, this is not a macrodose situation. You need to move at a decent clip and listen to the same three songs on repeat for full effect.
9 pm: Decide it’s a good idea to smoke cigarettes inside my apartment.
Wednesday, November 20, 2024
Drinks: 3, weed level: 1, cigarettes: 2
8 am: My apartment smells like cigarettes. I open every single window and vow to just not do that ever again.
3 pm: While out on lovely afternoon weed walk, I see a cybertruck. Am overcome with the urge to egg it. Sadly, out walking and have no eggs. It’s the thought that counts.
6 pm: Meet a dear friend for drinks. She claims to know a guy with 140 acres in Saskatchewan.
Thursday, November 21, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 1, cigarettes: 3
My friend Omri sends me this:
Yes. Duh. Obviously agree.
Now suffer from insatiable yearning to be world’s littlest woman held by world’s tallest woman. It is what would heal me. And if we all took turns, maybe it would heal the world? Whoever planned this shoot deserves a Nobel nomination at the very least.
Friday, November 22, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 2, cigarettes: 3
Based on my text messages, voice notes, and phone calls, it seems having a menty b is fully trending. Feel grateful for successful personal regimen of weed walks, perfecting impression of Melania Trump saying “lunch,” extended-release prescription speed, and taking it one day at a time. I love being sane.
Sunday, November 24, 2024
Drinks: 0, weed level: 3, cigarettes: 5
After procrastinating for an entire week, I finally write this newsletter.
Now, here we are.
I know I said I was going to drop out of society if Trump won, but that feels like a lot for me right now. I’m just hoping Civil War 2 can hold off until April at earliest so the weather won’t be as bad if I do have to migrate north and build a secret tunnel to Canada for us.
Barring a Godzilla attack, I’ll be chilling here in Cali for the rest of the year. Daddy Newsom’s sociopathic political ambitions and dedication to being the anti-Trump make me feel safe and warm. And LA is truly at its best when everyone annoying leaves for the holidays.
You’ll be hearing from me more often, I promise. There’s literally too much to discuss.
Less Lessons More Blessin’s™️
Liz
Sorry I missed you when you visited the Hammer!
The dress you wore for your Amazing Race episode is my favorite dress and I’m so glad it and you are running around this deranged world!