Consumption Lounge: October is for Lovers

Plus: Scorpios, ghosts, dirty olive martini pipes, and what to buy for Weed Witching season

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Welcome to the Consumption Lounge: a regular feature where I showcase all my favorite consumables from the food, beverage, cannabis, lifestyle, literary worlds, and beyond. Occasionally, affiliate links are included, but all recommendations are of my own.

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Hey everyone,

What a weekend. Ended up in urgent care at 9 a.m. on Sunday morning after getting assaulted and violated by some unhinged asshole decided to run up to me from seemingly out of nowhere in Tribeca to hawk-tua in my fucking face right into my eyeball while calling me a bitch as he ran away. Woof.

Turns out there’s a very low likelihood of getting something from his saliva fortunately, but the urgent care was kind enough to give me a saline rinse and words of sympathy. I went home, took a shower, then decided to have a healthy, happy, productive, and resentment-free Sunday because resentment makes you ugly (and that’s why I’m so beautiful and carefree!).

Sure, it was violating as hell to have someone spit a loogie with a full load from a mouth that hasn’t likely touched a toothbrush in who knows how long directly INTO MY EYEBALL while I’m just minding my own goddamn business crossing the street to get a cup of coffee—but at least he didn’t punch me in the face.

Still, I guarantee you that I had a much better day than the guy who feels the need to spit on a stranger while adding literal insult to injury. His life sucks. It’s not a good look, and a reminder to let go of some resentment. I don’t want to resent the guy that spat in my face; I want him to find peace of mind that makes him a better person and stop projecting his anger onto everyone else. I don’t want this to ever happen to another person because I’m tired of the cycle of senseless violence. Everyone needs to chill the fuck out and go touch some grass.

Let’s be honest, I have a pretty great life: four walls and a roof, a shower with a bathtub (even though there’s rust I have to clean out all the time that I hate doing because it’s old and shitty), a comfy bed, heat, the perfect loveseat, a fridge with food in it, a healthy bank account, a skincare and gym routine, friends, a sense of community involvement, and West Village rent stabilization that could have only been conjured by divine intervention that has already made me go through ego death a few times. Grateful every day.

Moving into this apartment changed my life; it’s where I rebuilt myself. Having this peace of mind gives me a tremendous amount of gratitude, particularly as someone who knows what it’s like to go without much. I have never felt so at home in my entire life as I do now, and I cannot underscore what a tremendous sense of accomplishment it feels to be “at home.”

I fully recognize that not having a home can make someone go off the deep end. Maybe even enough to spit on a stranger. I’m grateful I’ve never been that low. My lowest was the skin hanging off my bones trapped at the hospital for 12 days. It took me awhile to get over that, but every day since then has been a gift and a practice of gratitude. My lack of resentment for this asshole has less to do with him, and more of a reminder that even at my lowest, I was never that low.

Every day is a gift despite the fact I actually tirelessly work three jobs for it and probably will until I die to maintain my lifestyle because that’s how much security I need in my life. Many people take security and stability for granted, but probably shouldn’t in this economy. In a different time, this might even be “middle class living.” But we don’t have a middle class anymore, so everyone is fair game on the streets of New York for random assaults and the NYPD is totally useless about it. Yet, I am not resentful about it and that’s why I look so good.

Am I traumatized about it? Sure. But you can’t live in New York City and not be traumatized. This is a place that you frequently see fucked up shit and just have to accept that. Some of us even call it “character.” This is literally why I moved here: to be a neurotic Jew with a psychiatrist that I could humblebrag about over cocktails with my sassy, stylish, sexy-smart friends in the diners that barely exist or have been co-opted into trendy concept restaurants that allow you envision what a diner might have looked like as an idealized version during a time that never existed. I was going to be Elaine Benes eating gigantic salads with lots of stuff in them and dating everyone even if it was just for the story and being a real asshole with my friends. And I got to do all of it—what a gift.

Moving to New York was an ancestral calling that transcends area codes—and that code also happens to include ancestral trauma. That said, it was only 6 months ago that I realized there is a new clinical term for it that explains a lot while also justifying my joie de vivre yuppie wellness lifestyle! (Live, laugh, love, baby!) In the meantime, I have a ChatGPT therapist and melatonin (I am obsessed with these, by the way). If you didn’t have trauma already when you showed up to New York City with a suitcase and a dream, you will undoubtedly have some by the time you leave. Everyone else was born with it and will die with it as a badge of honor (or just move somewhere else).

That said, you cannot simply have your head in the clouds in this city, even with rose-tinted glasses. No neighborhood is immune and there’s a real sense of collective defeatism because it never seems to be the right answer. You take each day as it comes, enjoy the roses when you see them—but never smell or touch them because they’re likely covered in dog piss. Getting assaulted is just one of the many flavors on the daily trauma spectrum of New York City—it just might not be your favorite flavor.

So yes, I was actually traumatized because I was assaulted and that’s a normal reaction, but I also had a good weekend and am trying not to be resentful about it because at a certain point, you’re only hurting yourself (besides, I’m too busy being resentful about turning 40 in a few months). A big part of that was preventive and post-traumatic self-care, which comes from having been around the ol’ trauma block a few times while preferring an elevated lifestyle and mindset.

Friday started out strong with a much-needed massage at Renew Body Wellness on Friday night because my body is a temple and my mind is a house of worship. Typically, I go to Renewing Spa—not to be confused with the aforementioned Renew Body Wellness, given that they are both the no-frills, no-name massage parlors that sound nearly identical and both charge only $45 for an hour massage—but it’s closed for renovations (?) and will be reopening in November (!).

I’ve been getting pretty swoll lately now that I get paid to work out, so it’s important to get regular massages as part of preventive and restorative care. In the words of my grandma, “It’s better to be rich and healthy than poor and sick” (not untrue) so I always prioritize my health, and that includes massages. Massages help improve joint, muscle, and neurological health—key to not feeling like shit in 30 years when the physical and cognitive deterioration of aging start showing up. I also do the crossword puzzle for this reason (but only for Monday, Tuesday, and a little of Wednesday for self-esteem purposes).

On Saturday, I saw Bridget Everett and Amy Sedaris in conversation with New Yorker’s film critic (who seemed to allude to a not-so-happy marriage in front of a full live audience at Webster Hall and a livestream—good luck with that!). Laughter is the best medicine and I love to laugh, so I consider that preventive wellness. The weather was spectacular for a long, leisurely stoned walk through the Village. Later that evening, I ended up at the Psychedelic Assembly for Art Bath, an incredible multi-hyphenate immersive art experience with world class artists, musicians, dancers, and singers that was nourishing for the soul.

Sunday morning started off strong—a bike ride along the Hudson on the way to Pilates with a few extra minutes to spare for a quick coffee, interrupted by one of my most offensive moments living in this city. But instead of feeling resentful, I threw my energy into work and now you have a newsletter talking about everything I love! Because even when the world spits on you, there’s always a silver lining. May this inspire you to take positive action somewhere and pass it along.

What’s Sparking Joy This October?

Not so long ago I was talking with a Libra that I mistakingly identified as a Scorpio, who asserted very matter-of-factly that technically Libras own October. That may be true, but we’re in Scorpio season now and as a fellow water sign, I just have more to say about them than Libras (sorry).

Scorpios are like our dark and brooding aqua cousins, which makes them fitting characters for Weed Witching season, as well as ghosts in general, because Scorpios are notorious ghosters. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been able to put down Jeanette Winterson’s Night Side of the River: Ghost Stories or have been thinking a lot about whether Helen Mirren has been communicating with the ghost of Kurt Cobain while sidetracked on an off-road adventure, but ghosts have been on my mind lately and perhaps that’s why I’ve listening to a lot of Jeff Buckley’s Grace album (RIP Jeff! You were hot!).

On a hunch I decided to look it up see if he was a Scorpio, and of course he was. I mean, just look at the “So Real” video and him sulking around Paris in the “Forget Her” video and tell me that’s not a Scorpio. DRAMA QUEEN. Anyway, Jeff Buckley is officially the soundtrack of Scorpio season because I said so.

Halloween is just a few days away and I have three outfits with a 90% chance I will wear none of them and not leave the house. Will I be a ringmaster, French maid, Liza Minnelli in Cabaret, or a reclusive stoner curled up with moody poetry and tarot cards?

In the meantime, please enjoy these choice picks for October:

Consumption Lounge: October

• Night Side of the River: Ghost Stories by Jeanette Winterson - I never have the concentration to sit down with a book anymore, but found myself not only ripping through half of this book in one sitting, but marking it up. My friends, I took NOTES. I love how many interpretations of ghost stories she channels into each chapter of this collection of short stories, including a West Village séance (!) and a ghost story without a ghost. Some stories are chilling, others heart wrenching, a few are even funny—but all of them are thought-provoking and her style is incredibly evocative. Trust me, just get it.

• POET Cannabis - Finally, a label we can all believe in: Producers Owners of the Emerald Triangle is a collective of NorCal farmers focused on Sun+Earth grown cannabis. I snagged a pre-roll of Moroccan Peaches at Hall of Flowers last month and it was deliciously memorable as a reminder of why some weed is worth traveling for. Here’s where to buy.

• Dirty Olive Pipe from Go Easy - Looking for a coffee table conversation piece that will match martini hour? Look no further than this adorable (and now viral) glassware from Go Easy, which is officially my new favorite pipe and now can be yours, too!

• Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice - Dare I say that I liked the sequel more than the original?

• Mégalopolis - Everyone hated this movie, but Adam Driver is my Roman Empire, so it’s a little more of a love-hate for me.

• Agatha All Along - A queer witch superhero show about existential struggle and facing your fears? Count me in.

• What We Do in the Shadows - I’m going to be so sad when this show ends.

• The Fizz - Picked up a can of their Ginger Root while I was at Plant Shop in Ukiah, California. I like that it tastes good and gets me high with 10mg of THC, but hate that it has over 30 grams of sugar in one can! Surely there must be another way?!

• Lost Farm Root Beer x Gastro Pop #4 Live Resin Gummies - As someone who absolutely loves root beer gummies and everything from Kiva Confections, this was long overdue. But SO MUCH SUGAR.

• Arrowood Farms Dry Gin - Gin has been having a very underrated moment over the past several years among creative spirits producers playing around with botanical profiles making gin that’s good enough to drink neat. This one from Arrowood Farms is a floral London-dry style gin that uses honeysuckle, chamomile, rosehip, orris root, lemon thyme, coriander, bergamot and juniper grown right on their working farm in Hudson Valley. Big fan.

• La Fermiere lavender and rose yogurts - I love fancy yogurt, I cannot lie! Plus: they have cute reusable astrology signs containers!

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MORE FROM THE CONSUMPTION LOUNGE

Consumption Lounge: Spark Joy This September

Consumption Lounge: Hot Amnesia Haze August

Consumption Lounge: The 2024 Guide to 4/20 in NYC and Beyond

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