Weird people are the very best kind of people. Change my mind.

Yesterday my sister and her kids came all the way from Washington to see Nowhere Bookshop for the first time since it opened and I was so incredibly excited because they were my favorite visitors ever until this morning when a new gold standard was set:

Because today we got a visit from Jacque Merde. It’s a bit rude to light up at the bar, but I think the team was a little intimidated because he is so very french.

He hung around for awhile and probably picked up something from the poetry section and doffed several of our wines which I can only imagine since I was unfortunately not at the store this morning, which I now deeply regret.

Victor is out of town but I texted him photos with no context, to which he only responded, “Huh” because I think I’ve broken him.

But I’m sending enormous thanks to Jacques Merde’s creator and driver, Joshua from Random Creations by Red, who makes amazing taxidermy (and manages Jacques ‘Only Fawns’ account) for dropping by and reminding me that weird people are absolutely the best people.

In lightly related news, this Saturday (4/29) is Independent Bookstore Day and we’re celebrating all week:

And if you can’t celebrate with us in person may I suggest the next best thing and join us next month virtually when I visit with my favorite humorist in the world, Samantha Irby. Tickets are on sale now and include a live zoom link where you can attend in your pajamas and a copy of Samantha’s upcoming book (Quietly Hostile) which is so very good. It’s like getting tickets for Taylor Swift’s Eras tour but at a fraction of the cost and without having to deal with parking. And maybe there will be fancy costume changes and singing. IT’S ALL UNKNOWN.

Just to clarify, I was not in literal death match.

A few days ago I was very proud of myself because I actually managed to leave the house like a fully functioning person to take part in the San Antonio Literary Death Match, which I had accidentally tweeted as “Come join me at the Literal Death Match!” until someone was like, “Um…what?” and I quickly realized that perhaps my brain wasn’t entirely recovered from this latest bout of depression fog.

But I had the energy to be a judge, which was very nice, except that when I got there I realized that the other judges were specializing in the artistic intangibles and entertainment but I was the “literary merit judge” and had to have multiple literature references for every presenter and that’s when I panicked a little and considered running because my mind instantly went blank of every author I’ve ever heard of before, including myself.

If I was less nervous I would have taken a better picture of them setting up but I was afraid and was hiding behind some bushes so just use your imagination.

I immediately sat in the wrong place on stage and began to panic as it would soon be clear to everyone that I was not prepared for this, but instead of just faking it by pretending to be qualified I instead informed the audience that I had placed second in UIL Literary Criticism my junior year of high school but that I was pretty sure that was only because I referred to everything as “Kafkaesque” because I thought it sounded smart.

Then I gave each of the authors actual feedback on what I loved about the work they presented and how it affected me, but I was too panicked to come up with multiple literary comparisons so instead I pronounced each author as “incredibly Kafkaesque” and then compared every single one to a book from The Baby-Sitters Club series, except I haven’t read them since middle school so I just made up all the plots. Other literary judges at past events may have referenced Maya Angelou or the Brontë sisters, whereas I found myself saying things like, “Your complicated but fascinating main character reminded me very much of Baby Sitters Club #108 when Stacey was exploring her sexuality and recent lupus diagnosis” or “I think we all can agree that your work, of course, captures the excitement and titillation of Baby Sitters Club #806 where Dawn finds out she was switched at birth with Claudia and has an exciting summer romance with hot lifeguard who unfortunately later turns out to be a serial killer.”

Luckily, the audience was kind, the event was funny and light-hearted, and most of the people there either understood that I was insane, or were suddenly really interested in checking out those Baby Sitter club books that don’t actually exist at all. Also, I’m now wondering if I said “Baby-Sitters Club” or “Adventures in Babysitting” which was a movie I liked in the 80s.

Regardless, I had fun and met wonderful people and then panicked and ran away very quickly as soon as it was over but I call that a win. And you should absolutely check out the books of the authors (Jonny Garza Villa, Kimberly Garza, Rubén Degollado and Bobby Finger) because they are all amazing and exactly as Kafkaesque as you would like them to be.

Honestly though, I *could* start a cult.

Frankly, I’m a little shocked that twitter hasn’t crashed yet, but while it’s still vaguely working, here is my current collection of questionable things that have trended on my Twitter “for you” page that make me think twitter either really knows me or really, really doesn’t.

Happy Friday and please keep your cocaine in animal-safe containers.

Oh. There I am.

If you’ve been reading here you know I’ve been in a massive depression the last few months and that I’ve been doing ketamine injections to try to pull myself out and (KNOCK ON EVERY PIECE OF WOOD) I actually think it’s working. Today I went through and answered all of the emails that I’ve gotten over the last month and it was so easy. These are the same emails that have been haunting me every single day but I’d never answered (or even opened in some cases) because I didn’t have the brain power in spite of the fact that a neurotypical brain would think it was a piece of cake.

I’m writing this now because for the last few months I’ve been afraid that I’d sort of lost myself entirely. I couldn’t speak straight or think clearly or write and each day I worried that this was the end and that my brain was slowly winding down to close out for good. This seems ridiculous, but when you’re stuck in a depression that lasts this long it’s easy to feel like it will never end and that everyone hates you or has forgotten you and that the spark that makes you you has gone out for good. This is a reminder to future Jenny (who will undoubtedly be in that dark hole again) that it’s worth sticking around and fighting the battle because the spark is still there. It’s in you. It’s in me. I promise.

Also, I’ve tried to share with you some of the tricks I’ve learned in ketamine therapy in case you try it and my most recent revelation is that having a massive psychedelic trip in a dark room while people poke multiple needles in you is understandably scary so I started asking for the windows to be open and to have something sunshiney on the tv and it really helped to remind me that the world still existed and that I wasn’t dead and trapped in the sunken place. BUT. Last time I went for my treatment the nurse was like, “How about bird videos for cats on youtube?” and that sounded great except turns out it was a 5 minute loop of cute birds that continually ended with a terrifying vulture flying straight at my face.

This is fine.

I could have hit the panic button for help but by the time I had it in my hand it was back to sweet birds and I assumed I’d just hallucinated buzzard-vision but then 5 minutes later it happened again except by that time I had progressed to idouble vision and then I had two terrifying vultures flying at me. Luckily, I soon lost my vision altogether until I started to come out of it and by that time the youtube clip had done what youtube clips do and had gone to a commercial.

OF THE WORLD EXPLODING IN MASSIVE FIREBALLS.

What.

I can’t remember the rest of that commercial but then a guy in an eyepatch came on and was like, “ARE YOU IN A CULT?” and I was like…”Fuck. Am I in a cult?” And I could have just chosen to skip the ads except you can see the remote in the photo and I can assure you that it’s at least 4 miles away after 160 mg of ketamine. Luckily, the nurse stepped in and was like, “Oh. This seems like…not birds” and she was very right. So my hint to you is…don’t watch youtube and also avoid vulture videos while you’re high because they will become 3d and fly directly into your face. I’m not sure you should let your cats watch it either. Just saying.

Another thing that helped? I never get to see people leave so I always assume that I’m the only one who is literally clinging to the nurses as I walk out like some kind of terrible lightweight so this last time I finally asked and the nurse said that most people can’t walk out without help and that they never know how people will react but that there is no wrong way to be. She said she’d had grannies take massive doses and be just fine and burly men take a small dose and never return because they were too freaked out. Everyone is unique. I’m not sure why, but that made me feel better.

Yay for feeling better.

It’s Friday. Let’s have some fun.

It’s Friday and that means it’s time for you to step into my office so you can see all the videos I saved for you. Ferris Mewler is in the other chair so just sit in my lap. It’s all good. Ready?

Guess which one I am?

He’s nervous.

I want part of this made into my ringtone:

This one is medicinal: (Special note to my mom, you have to click the arrow button on the right to make it play.)

Happy weekend, y’all.