The Bloggess

So I’ve written before about the fact that I have vasovagal syncope (although I’m not sure I’ve ever used the technical term for it) but it’s basically where I pass out if my anxiety gets too bad. It only happens a few tines a year and it even happens when I’m not aware that I’m having anxiety…like if I see needles or blood at a doctors office, in spite of the fact that I’m not afraid of needles or blood at all (wtf, brain?).

Yesterday we took Hailey and their partner out for barbecue and I started to feel the panicky warning signs of abdominal pain and dizziness and sweating and so I took a xanax and laid my head down on the table to try to stop it all and Victor was like, “Your hair is in the beans. Your hair is in the beans” but I was too dizzy to respond and then I felt even worse and so I was like, “I NEED TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY” because I knew I was about to pass out and didn’t want to do it in a crowded brisket joint and so I jumped up and bolted to the door so that I could pass out inside the car, but I apparently misjudged how quickly it was coming on because I heard Victor behind me going, “WHAT IS HAPPENING” and then the next minute I was waking up on the asphalt, entirely blocking the only door of the barbecue place. Apparently trying to outrun unconsciousness had not worked (this seems logical in retrospect but panicky Jenny is an idiot) and so instead I busted through the door like the Kool-Aid man, passed out while running and flew out onto the asphalt where I blocked the door from everyone entering and exiting, and starting making moaning noises (“Like a Frankenstein” apparently) in front of the world. Also, my skirt was apparently up to my bellybutton and I was shaking like I was having a seizure because I guess I can’t even do fainting right. I woke up with gravel in my knees and beans in my hair and a very nice lady who worked there put a bag of cold water on me because I was sweating like I’d just come out of a lake and so it looked like I’d won an invisible goldfish at the fair.

Then I apologized a million times because I was mortified and fell asleep for 5 hours and today I’m weak as a dishrag. So my question is…does anyone else get this? Is it just me?

Every few months I go into my notes app on my phone to look at all of the reminders that I’ve written to myself that I have forgotten to do and inevitably there will be several notes that are deeply concerning because what was I even talking about? My latest one read simply:

“I’M NOT PAYING $700 FOR PICTURES OF INTERNAL CAT FARTS.“

Quite often I never figure out what these baffling messages mean and chalk them up to things I thought were hilarious in a dream (that were not hilarious at all the next morning) but then it clicked that a month ago I saw a string coming from Ferris Mewler’s butthole and I had to take him to the vet because clearly he’d eaten a ribbon and the vet was like, “He seems fine and probably passed it all, but we could do an X-ray?” and I asked if she’d do an X-ray if it was her cat and she was like, “Well, probably not because if there’s any more string it won’t actually show up in the x-ray but it could show if he has any blockages or unusually large gas pockets but we’d have to sedate him and it would be about $700″ and I was like, “I’M NOT PAYING $700 FOR PICTURES OF INTERNAL CAT FARTS” and the vet agreed that it was probably fine to just keep an eye on him. And I wrote that note to myself because these are sentences you don’t think you’ll say out loud until you become a cat mom, but I didn’t write about it at the time because I was afraid I’d jinx myself and then the next day Ferris Mewler would take a bad turn and then everyone on the internet would be like, “YOU SHOULD HAVE PAID FOR THE FARTS, YOU IDIOT” and then I forgot about the whole thing until today when I came across the note and remembered that Ferris was just fine and I could give myself a little high-five because I’d actually managed to make a good decision after all. I’m not sure if any of this makes sense because I’m on a lot of codeine cough syrup for a nasty cold but there’s something a little comforting about recognizing that maybe I’m making more good decisions than I give myself credit for, even if some of them are about cat farts.

Ferris Mewler (Totally alive and lightly mortified and probably dreaming about eating more ribbon):

A few days ago I was at the bookstore and Vicky asked if I’d seen the duck someone had left me as a gift and I was like, “Is it dead? Because I’m running low on space for taxidermy” and she was like, “Of course it’s dead, but also I think you’re going to want it” and then she brought it out and I said, “Well, fuck I have to keep this because she perfectly matches my taxidermied burlesque rat, right down to the sequined nipple pasties” and several customers looked baffled, because I guess they’re new. (Thank you, Pretty Dead Shop.)

(The cat is a fan, as well.)

In other book-related news…my pick for the Fantastic Strangelings Bookclub is Kristen Arnett’s STOP ME IF YOU’VE HEARD THIS ONE. Three words: complicated lesbian clowns.

And my pick for Nightmares from Nowhere Bookclub is THE HAUNTING OF ROOM 904 by Erika T. Wurth. It’s a gritty paranormal thriller that is as edgy as it is heartfelt. (Erika is the same author of White Horse, which I’ve recommended before.)

Here are a few more new releases that I enjoyed you might want to check out:

The Antidote by Karen Russell – A gripping Dust Bowl epic about five characters whose fates become entangled after a storm ravages their small Nebraskan town. So good. 

Tilt by Emma Pattee – Set over the course of one day, a heart-racing story about a woman facing the unimaginable, determined to find safety. Quick and heart-pounding. 

GothicTown by Emily Carpenter – slow-burn horror as a restaurateur lured by pandemic-era incentives moves her family to a seemingly idyllic town in Georgia where all is not as it seems. 

Cry When The Baby Cries by Becky Barnicoat – Born out of a viral “Shouts & Murmurs” piece in The New Yorker, this dark but funny and charming graphic memoir brings the first few years of parenthood to life.

Passing Through a Prairie Country by Dennis E. Staples – A thriller about the ghosts that haunt the temples of sin and excess we call casino, and people who get caught up in a web resting on high stakes and low odds. 

Malinalli by Veronica Chapa – An imaginative retelling of the triumphs and sorrows of one of the most controversial and misunderstood women in Mexico’s history and mythology

Luminous by Silvia Park – a debut novel set in a unified Korea that tells the story of three estranged siblings—two human, one robot—as they collide against the backdrop of a murder investigation to settle old scores and make sense of their shattered childhood

Happy reading!

PS. We’ll be opening up new spots for the bookclubs soon and giving out some fun gifts to new and old members, so keep your eyes open if you want to join!

Just a quick note from the front-lines of our strange, ongoing battle with our Home Owner’s Association, who doesn’t think year-round 12-foot-skeletons are acceptable because skeletons are seasonal and Halloween is over.

Bone Crawford remains standing.

Happy early St. Patrick’s Day.

So, this Sunday the Upper Arlington Library in Ohio is bringing out to do a talk and I’m very excited about it but also really nervous because I haven’t accepted many speaking gigs in the last five years, in part because I’m self-conscious about a nervous tic that I’ve developed that you’ve no doubt noticed if you’re part of my book club and watch my zooms. It’s basically an occasional heavy blink when it’s a good day, but on a bad day it looks as if an invisible ghost is aggressively poking me in the eye every two seconds. I’ve seen all the doctors and shrinks and they tell me the best way to make it go away is to not think about it because thinking about it makes it worse and so I’m constantly thinking that I need to not think about it, which is just as ridiculous and unhelpful as it sounds.

But anyway, I’m writing this here because in the last few years I’ve had people reach out to ask if I have a problem or recommend testing or allergy meds, and so if I write this here maybe it will pop up when people google “What’s wrong with Jenny Lawson?” and I can say, “SO MANY THINGS. But one of them is that I have an occasional facial tic that is totally harmless but gets worse when I’m tired or nervous.”

Here’s a video if you want more details, although my tic is hardly showing up at all in it, probably because I’m not worried about it showing up for once. THANKS FOR NOTHING, BRAIN:

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Every once in awhile I share the weekly letter I send out from my drawing substack because not everyone understands how to sign up (hi mom!) and so they can read it here. This is one of those days:

Dear friend.

This week I was feeling a combination of helpless and full of rage and so I drew something terrifying because for some reason drawing dark horror and phantoms and the existential monsters I see in my dreams is cathartic, and part of me wants to share those images because I think many of you could relate, but I also don’t want people to be like…wait…did I ask for drawings of wolves prowling inside your house and eyeless women screaming blindly into the raging wind?  And no, of course you didn’t because no one would sign up for that. But the lovely thing is that after I get all of my angst and fear out on the paper I feel calmer and remember that the bad guys want you to feel helpless and terrified, and that most of the world is actually good and kind and loving and protective…they just don’t get as much press. And so then I can take a deep breath and start again, drawing something just as true and cathartic…but with the hope and care that I want to put out into the world and feel myself.

So that’s where this doodle came from. We all have to live together and each of us has our struggles and loves and fears. We are each unique but we are all together. And the only way we get through the hard times is remembering that we are far from alone. Be brave. Be strong. But don’t allow the world strip you of your gentleness and your kindness. Love wins. Hope can be a quiet revolution. In other words:

“Hey. We all have to live together. So try not to be a dick.”

I ran out of time before I finished because cross-hatching is hard but I sort of like it unfinished and a little raw and imperfect…just like us.

In fact, here’s a picture from before I started shading in case you want to print it out and work your own magic on it yourself. After all, humanity is a group project. (And we all know how fucking hard those can be.)

I super crazy love you,

Jenny

Ps. You can subscribe to my substack for free. Some of the posts are just for paid subscribers because they keep me in pens and paper and make me meet my deadlines (thank you!) but the vast majority of my readers are free and the majority of my emails go to everyone. I feel a little bad that my paid readers don’t get as much exclusive emails as some other creators parse out, but I also suspect that anyone who contributes to my substack would not begrudge others the joy (and confusion) of getting my emails. I’m so lucky to have you all.