by danica spitfyer
Hey so it’s Danica. Listen. Yeah, I’m not asking, I am telling you to take a seat. Sit on the baby stool painted colors. I am going to be nineteen in two days. Today is Tuesday. It is the 19th. Tomorrow is the 20th of March. Thursday, the 21st, is my birthday. Do not remind me that I am on the cusp. I will deny the weepy Pisces in me while crying into a bowl of cereal. I hope you know that.
Now You Should.
What I asked for for my birthday is a vinyl copy of Neutral Milk Hotel’s On Avery Island album. I got In The Aeroplane Over The Sea for Christmas, and both vinyl come with a “free” digital download. That is why I am hoping my mom will give me. It is not so much money. I do not want things that cost a lot. Or things. Things are heavy and when I die I won’t be able to carry them anyway. Last week Charlie and I published a zine called M other Arms, and I want people to read it, but also, I recognize that the zine reveals our innermost emotions. We do not like to be vulnerable for people to see. If anything my vulnerability is performative and compromised for the public eye. In recent months I have come to the conclusion that nineteen is an ungodly year of age. And we cannot wait to experience it. What’s it like being nineteen? Nineteen, sucked the breath from my bones, and the enamel from my diaphragm. Nineteen, cracked my skull, spills out like ink and stains the sink drain pretty repetitive saturnal rings but I dip my pen and write because nineteen becomes twenty and
unbecoming.
twenty is just so
We must document the whole damn thing! I am writing this and I am still eighteen. What I can say about eighteen. Let’s start off by saying that I spent the first few months of eighteen crying because I did not get accepted to my dream school, and that each waking moment felt like a living nightmare. One night I laid my head to rest and my father was undead. I did not want to attend the same university where he and at least a million other New Jersey residents dragged themselves to class and got a degree in holding rope and goading legs to follow where a well-trodden path leads blind-folded. I thought I would be accepted to a prestigious all-women’s college and meet a lovely lesbian and by the time we graduate we’d have a small apartment and she would sing out the window and I would come her hair and kiss her and then we could cuddle on the carpet when it got so hot and we would only have a big shirt on because it is summer and we are on a high floor. We are never coming down. Visions were a high. I did not want to come down but I got spat on right in the eye by no one but Glob Himself. Streaming, streaming down my face, residue of rotting fruit, sorry flesh in my palms, I wanted to scrape them raw against the sidewalk so I could not create or hold anyone anymore. I wanted hands to be tomatoes. They call New Jersey the Garden State for a reason.
✰ You are the of a size seven fried C sh0 scum
o r p s E
Alexa play 666 by girlpuke.
e
I think something that really knocked me the fuck off of my feet was the flick of your tongue when you said you were nineteen. Actually maybe it is just the way your voice sounds like a log cracking and my eyes were too close to the flame, gooey warm like marshmallows. As a child, if I had left a marshmallow burning for too long it would be known as Elvis. Tell me about when you were a kid. What were you like? Tell me about before nineteen. I do not want to know any more than nineteen. Let’s stop at twenty. I hate to say it but Sylvia really knew what it was like to be nineteen. I guess I am saying this because that’s all I have to go off of. Truly, what is is like? Can you change my mind? I will know soon enough but I am impatient and want your
!!!!
IS BIRTH INHERENTLY LARGE? OR LITTLE? Oh so apparently little death “la petite mort” means orgasm
MARCH 20, 2019 - Woke up - Made coffee that has over 170g caffeine in it - Put a blueberry and raspberry oat Trader Joe’s muffin into the toaster oven - Ate a yogurt - Ate part of the muffin (most of the outer portion) - Put the rest of said muffin back into the toaster oven - Ate the rest with coffee - Found what I was going to wear- 90.3 The Core crew neck with collared shirt underneath from the day before, changing into long black hoop skirt overtaken by pink and purple floral and dashes of green leaves printed on the fabric, replacing forest green socks with bubble gum pink of medium length, penguin Docs, fir green overcoat with brassy buttons that remind me of Le Petit Prince - Washed face with Noxzema, brushed teeth with toothbrush Kieran gave me the night I slept on her couch - Wrote part of a poem about flesh and life lessons - Got in the car with my mom, headed over to the RLC - Played Neutral Milk Hotel, She Said Destroy!, Mitski, free cake for every creature, (early) Clairo (“Where You’ll Find Me”, “15, Camelot House”, “first love/late spring”, “i wanna make you bread”, “talking quietly of anything with you”, and “bubble gum,” respectively. - Got real pissed walking into radio station for 9-11am show seeing the lights on in the studio, program log not filled out properly, previous person still signed in on ElCro, board not “normaled” - Used bathroom with special key - Called Gram to complain about DJ before me on this specific day - Played a song before the partnership - Started recording my show on USB drive - Played more songs, forgot Marissa Paternoster’s last name on air and felt awful (MARISSA I LOVE YOU)
- Messaged friend about hanging out - Decided against the romantic notion of going to New York and staying at my great aunt’s house so I could wake up in the city on my nineteenth birthday - Got a ride to friend’s house, but had to walk a bit bc GPS is wonky - Consumed good Filipino food for $6.66 - Drove with friend to pick up their clothes from the dry cleaners - Portuguese supermarket time, the shellfish was alive - Ventured through Roselle Park, Elizabeth, and Union to find industrial park by the water, walked - Then went to park in Newark, similar to Roosevelt in a sense (lake), but much larger - Contemplated “stealing” a one way sign that lay on the grass near the edge of the polluted lake - Went back to my house - Mow did not want me to grab her so my friend could not pet her - Tried to explain they/them pronouns in regards to friend to my family - Realized I could never be honest with them about my queerness due to their ridicule and revocation of positive things said about my friend - Why does every friend they perceive to be male have to be my love interest? - Why can’t they be queer and worthy of praise? - why can’t i be queer and worthy. - Scrambled eggs and raisin toast - I am going upstairs to work on things, Gram. don’t think i don’t have any ideas Hi, what does it mean to exist? I want to die. I don’t want to turn twenty. I am already thinking about it. I do not want to be on safety mode for the rest of my life. Give me the fucking sharp scissors. Take off child lock. Let me out!
This is the last set of songs I played over the airwaves as an eighteen year old.
I remember that time I was s truggling with my eating disorder (I still do) and my family decided they wanted to go to Friendly’s, which I do have a nxiety and animosity towards. I got in the car but before we could turn the corner I made my mom let me out of the car and I walked home and I cried about being hungry and queer and watched San Junipero on my bed and s obbed some more. I dreamed about the girl I l oved and the apartment we would share and her black olive hair. but anyway this is about being nineteen? LOL Timothee Chalamet in Lady Bird? NOT CALL ME BY YOUR NAME “I wasn’t flirting.” “Wish you had been.” THE BIGGEST ~LITTLE DEATH~ OMG!
“...TRYING TO FIND A WAY OF BECOMING W HAT I WOULD SO LIKE TO BE, AND WHAT I COULD BE, IF… THERE WEREN’T ANY OTHER PEOPLE LIVING IN THE WORLD”- ANNE FRANK, DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL, PAGE 241 (FROM THE FINAL PAGE, FINAL SENTENCE). 032100 IT WAS MY MOTHER WHO TAUGHT ME THAT FLESH WAS MADE TO BE TORN TAUT BELLY BURSTING, SEWAGEY SPILLAGE AND THERE I WAS: BORN PUZZLE PIECE HEAD AND JELLYBEAN TOES GARNISHED WITH STALE, SOUR PISS AND FRESH, STILL-MOVING GUTS YOU WOULD THINK THE BATTLE TO BE OVER PERHAPS NOT WON, AND YET, IT HAS JUST BEGUN, WHICH SEEMS LIKE A LOSS TO ME AND I AM ONE IN SEVEN BILLION OR EIGHT, AND COUNTING WE CELEBRATE NUMBERS AS IF THEY MEAN ANYTHING THE FEATS I AM SURMOUNTING FLATTEN I USED TO THINK SELF WAS FLESH SPELLED BACKWARDS NO WONDER I WISH TO DESTROY IT, CANDLE COME. Eighteen year old Danica, here. Goodbye. I am leaving space for nineteen year old Danica.
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Well, I am not actually nineteen yet but it is March 21st. I was born at 5:58 pm. Born is such a weird word, and birth is almost considered a dirty word outside of birthday. I was assigned to read Mary Wollstonecraft Shelly’s novel Frankenstein f or my 19th Century British Fiction course and do you know what an existential crisis is? DO you know what real tears are? Haha, not until you read that book, ya don’t. I wrote a poem from the perspective of the creature but I think I lost it. Anyway I often feel a lot like the creature. Sometimes I text my mom while she is at work and ask why I was born. I am serious. But her answers are only along the lines of “Because I love you!” with a heart eye emoji. Which I don’t understand. How could she love me if she did not and still does not know me? Did she love my father? I have no reason to doubt her affection besides their dissimilarities. I do not know my father’s intentions but I also did not know him. I want to ask. He did not leave us before he died, is all I mean. He was probably going to tell me about The Beatles at some point but since it was the 60th anniversary I would have found out for sure sooner or later.
“TO TEAR OUT YOUR HEART WOULD SEND ALL YOUR SECRETS TO ME”
~maggot heart~ but you don’t like to think about that, do you? it occupies my thoughts.
rando PLAYLIST ★Weird- Mommy Long Legs ★Where You’ll Find Me- Neutral Milk Hotel ★Bust- Lomelda hi all i am saying is that if i knew it was your birthday i would say somethin’ nice but all i am seeing is you seeing people wish me a happy birthday and you not doing that? it shouldn’t matter to me but it does indeed snap some heartstrings! you dumb mthrfckr! oH eck :( ↘↘↘↘↘↘↘↘↘↘↘↘↘ painful but not sure if they are just phantom brain pains ↖↖↖↖↖↖ not worth a trip to the emergency room not worth getting all worked up over and giving myself a real aneurism anxiety makes it hard to tell the difference between dying and feeling when i think i feel something i think i am dying because i am so used to not feeling anything as a survival strategy for a coupla months i didn’t get my period because i wasn’t eating properly but then it came back, i told the doctor, i knew she would happen again soon as far as emotions go it’s like nothing nothing nothing
EEEEVVVEEEERRRRRYYYYYTTTTHHHIIINNNNGGG! you make me wanna pluck the stem cells from my nervous system i can present them to you like a bouquet of sickness flowers.
~ I hope you’re just waiting to say happy birthday to me in person or something. Do you hate me?
Happy Birthday to Frankie Cosmos a.k.a Greta Klein! Twenty five whole years of you in the world! Wow! I am so happy we became best friends in kindergarten when you stuck gum in my hair as a joke. I think looking back it is really funny but at the time I truly did consider investing in 25 cent rings so it’d hurt more if I were to punch you in the face. But then I learned we shared the
holy shit we are twins same birthday and thought
! Twins gotsta sticktagetha. So
now we are still stuck together. I am the sticker that rests on your nose! Write a song about me! I think I like On Avery Island better than In The Aeroplane Over The Sea. I had really not given Avery a proper listen until very recently, but I believe this album is rougher,
YOU NEVER TOLD ME WHAT IT IS LIKE BUT I NOW REALIZE THAT IT MAY BE BECAUSE I NEVER ASKED YOU DIRECTLY. I SPOKE TO YOU THROUGH POETRY I NEVER SHOWED YOU BECAUSE IT IS TOO EMBARRASSING. MY POETRY IS OFTEN A DIARY ENTRY EXCEPT NOT WRITTEN IN A DIARY BECAUSE I AM ALWAYS FEARFUL MY MOTHER MIGHT SNOOP AROUND AND FIND ME USING BAD WORDS. I WON’T CARE ABOUT YOU BY THE TIME YOU TURN TWENTY. I WON’T REMEMBER YOUR BIRTHDAY. I WON’T WISH YOU ANYTHING AT ALL. MY ONLY GIFT FOR YOU IS A THICK RUSTY SCREW I FOUND ON THE SIDE OF A ROAD IN ELIZABETH. I ACCIDENTALLY TOUCHED THE SOFT AREA AROUND MY EYE WITH THE FINGERS THAT CRADLED THE SCREW AND NOW IT IS A BIT PINK AND SPLOTCHY. OR, IT WAS, YESTERDAY BUT IT CLEARED UP. I AM NINETEEN NOW! YOU CLEARLY HAVE NO ADVANTAGE OVER ME. I WON’T PRETEND YOU DIDN’T AT LEAST FOR A LITTLE WHILE. I STILL HAVEN’T KISSED ANYONE. BUT I DON’T CARE. KISS MY ASS! EAT MY SHORTS! WHY DOES A PEBBLE REMIND ME OF YOU? WHY DO I PICK UP LEAVES AND THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY PERSON WHO MIGHT APPRECIATE IT? YOU ARE NOT. I AM GOING TO START LOOKING AT NICE THINGS AND THINKING, GODDAMNIT, I APPRECIATE THIS, THIS NICE THING! IT IS FOR ME TO APPRECIATE IN THIS MOMENT, NOT FOR YOU TO APPRECIATE IF I GARNER THE COURAGE SHOW IT TO YOU, AND IF YOU EVEN FEEL LIKE APPRECIATING IT, IF YOU GET AROUND TO IT, SOMETIME. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO START APPRECIATING ME? I WAS BORN YESTERDAY, BUT I WASN’T BORN YESTERDAY-YESTERDAY. YOU NEVER WISHED ME A HAPPY BIRTHDAY SO I KNOW YOU WON’T BRING FLORA, OR FAWN OVER MY cremated ASHES. YOU ARE MY VERY CREATION. Best, Danica
Well, it’s Danica. I have been nineteen for less than 24 hours, I am not sure if I know what it is like yet. Although perhaps that sentiment truly describes what being nineteen is like. Maybe if i get back to you in a year it’ll be clearer. What I can say is that I have good friends. I can say I wish I had my record player here so I can spin some vinyl I got for my birthday. Guru gave me her Bikini Kill record and I am touched, because I remember the day she bought it. I remember how she struggled with her purchasing, believing that the money could have been spent elsewhere or on something more importance, or charitous. I told her she should get it anyway, if it could make her happy. I know money can’t buy happiness but it can buy experiences. Life is made up on experiences, or rather, life is one big experience but we can try and understand it by breaking it down into little experiences that feel big but are really ice cube slivers of a glacier. Our current means of existence truly is reflected by the state of our beauteous glaciers. Anyway. My friend Cat gave me a velvet black blazer and it reminded me of when Charlie from The Perks of Being A Wallflower received a suit, along with a typewriter, for his Secret Santa gift. I felt like Charlie but also Revenge-era Gerard Way, but also a power dyke. Supposedly, the best present I received was my friend’s presence. I was twenty-ish minutes late to my own “party” at Thomas Sweets because Kale Juice arrived at my current residence a bit late. I am not bitter about it, this is merely an account of events. Cat and DJ Dream Girl and Hole and Sweet Smile were waiting. I saw The Convincing Actor walking down Hamilton Street in their fedora, their face dimly lit by a traffic light. Kale and I laughed the whole way there, on the sidewalk. It was nice to see a couple of people who care about me all in one room. Guru and I made accidental eye contact as I stuck my tongue deep into the bottom of the waffle cone I treated myself to, and that was not so nice, but surely it was funny. Nineteen is about shedding your skin. It is about snakes, as Rad might say, delighting The Convincing Actor. Becoming snakes? I think nineteen is going to be a year in which I become less ashamed of shitting in public restrooms, being bloated in front of people, and having your hair turn straggly in the rain. It’s probably about being sad always but not letting it get to you too much. That is adulthood. Dream Girl told me this should not be so, but I truly believe I will never be satisfied with what life has to offer, I will always want to have the whole glacier melting and grating against my warm cheeks, instead of a manageable sliver. This is not to negate the lovely contentment I experienced in the presence of my friends. It just means I might always be depressed and anxious. It just means that I might always be in love with anything or anyone but myself. It just means that I might always wish to be in the ground when birthday wishes are beckoned. I did not make a wish this year. My mom stuck a candle in a stack of two blueberry wheat pancakes so she could post a picture on Facebook.
thanks.
wickedboftheec@gmail.com