Welcome to vvn town! Here you’ll find unhinged essays, random musings, and an occasional advice column. Think of it like an OnlyFans, except it’ll be my goopy little brain that is naked.
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The whole thing about being subsumed by the unrelenting passage of time is that — doggone it — you’ve gots to find ways to cope! Back in Fall ‘22, when my heart was wiggling with pain, I began doing what I call “emotional dumpster diving.” I brute forced myself to filter out all the life bullshit in order to find and record knowable things, notable moments, blinking firefly lights in an otherwise pitch-black night.
Other people call it gratitude, to which I say: YAWN! I get it (less syllables), but the metaphor of dumpster diving still gives room for acknowledgement that:
Life can be a dumpster sometimes, and sometimes the dumpster is on fire.
There are often items of value in that dump aflame that ought not be overlooked!
For example, some things are curious, mysterious. Some things are ugly but in a cute sort of way. Some things are actually capybaras, which are all of the above. In fact, I could end this essay right here, with the capybara thing.
But I won’t. Inspired by Johnny Sun’s A small list of knowable things, vvn town presents:
dumpster diving finds of 2022
Bussy Tat
A few months ago, I got a tattoo of an pilcrow (the paragraph symbol) on my inner left wrist — writing, new beginnings, blah blah. If I turn my arm upside down, it looks like a “b,” rife with opportunities for new pen-invoked temporary tattoos. So far, “bussy” has been the fan favorite.
Chair Deer
In Petaluma, CA, there’s a pub called The Buckhorn. Mounted on the wall of The Buckhorn is a taxidermied bust of a buck. Planted squarely on this buck’s neck — for no explicable reason whatsoever — is a bar stool. This whole chair-deer combination lives in my noggin rent-free. I could ask (the bartenders look like they’ve been working there for at least two decades), why does that deer have a chair on his neck? But I won’t. Your girl loves a good air of mystique!
Peanut Butter Cups
One evening, after coming home from a particularly rough emotional suplex regarding the whole life/career thing, I found a gift from my roommate at my bedroom door. It was small pack of Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups, stapled to a card with one handwritten sentence on it:
Root Beer Floats
There’s probably an upcoming full-length essay about this and all other things that deserve a resurgence in popularity. It will also be about nostalgia and a desire to re-live a childhood on different terms. But for now — Haagen Dasz Vanilla Bean + A&W Root Beer. You’re welcome.
A Known Fact
In August, my friend and I found ourselves under the stars and also the influence at a small music festival in the middle of the woods.
“You’re my best friend,” I told him.
I told him that life had felt so unstable and scary the past few months, and that I often felt like I’d lost sight of who I was — but with his unwavering support and presence in my life, I had at least one place where I could feel safe. I told him I didn’t know how I would have survived this season without him.
“You’re my best friend too,” he responded, probably, along with other kind and sentimental things I don’t quite remember. What I do remember is how he nodded —quick, confident and assured — as if the value of our friendship was a known fact, obvious and indisputable before I even considered putting words to it.
@capybarara_land_puipui
Just outside of Tokyo, there’s a capybara petting zoo called Capybara Land Pui Pui. Every day I check up on Miss Ringo, Miss Potato, Miss Jiro, Ron boy, and President Oink (the zoo manager, who admittedly also looks like a capybara). Capybara Land Pui Pui is struggling to stay open and I lowkey just want to make more money so I can contribute to their Patreon. Out of my many purposes in life, the hope of one day visiting Capybara Land remains alarmingly high on the list.
Cha-Cha Real Smooth
On one of my last walks with Oscar (though I didn’t know it at the time), we crossed paths with a doe. This was in Illinois, where seeing deer in forest preserves is pretty run of the mill. Usually they run away when a human gets too close, but this doe-eyed doe, tawny-brown with splatters of white, stomped her front hooves when we approached her on the path. Then we saw them: two fawns trailing behind her, peeking out from behind their mother. She stomped and stomped, urgently enough to mean business in the face of danger but gently enough to let us off with a warning.
I tried to pull Oscar back, but he leaned forward until they were a few feet away from each other. And he stomped too. Even as she loomed over him, seven times his size, he stomped and stomped with no hesitation, urgently enough to mean business in the face of danger, gently enough to let them off with a warning.
Doe: *stomp stomp*
Oscar: *stomp stomp*
Doe: *stomp stomp*
Oscar: *stomp stomp*
Back and forth they stomped, two creatures protecting their own, like they were doing the goddamn cha-cha slide during the part of the track with the synth cues. Right foot let’s stomp! Left foot let’s stomp! until eventually they sort of just cha-cha-real-smoothed past each other.
We continued on our hike. I looked at Oscar, in all his twelve pounds of glory and his willing to protect me at any cost. He looked back at me, panting, proud to have warded off such an ominous threat. He barked nonchalantly, as if to say:
“We are here to have courage. In the face of danger, or perceived danger, or uncertainty of the future or fear of the past, when we are lost and scared and when the doe has two babies whom she loves as much as I love you — the only way out is through. And the only way through is with a little bit of courage.”
Or, perhaps, he just meant “woof.”
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This is such a good essay! Also it took me so long to realize that Oscar is not a really small man/child but rather a really small dog LOL