In Good Taste is out a day early because I don’t really think I’ll have the creative energy to respond to tomorrow, or at the onset of the TikTok Civil War.
Everyone remembers where they were in 2016.
I posted up after work at Mary’s in East Atlanta, prepped for celebration. Easy, cool fall night on the porch with friends and giant cutouts of HRC bopping around, high fives and casual punditry for everyone.
I don’t think I even checked my phone all that often. Too busy laughing and talking, just checking the bar TVs when I’d re-up on T&T (tequila & tonic -- my chaotic bar drink of choice ca. 2015-2017). Confident and assured that you can’t actually elect a sentient YouTube comment, so why worry?
Then the beat dropped. In an instant, Mary’s became a sobbing, shrieking cacophony, soundtracked to “It Takes Two” and the HRC cutouts looking like a fun-house rictus. This isn’t even poetic reimagining, it’s exactly how it was. We sat on the porch in stunned silence, all of us somehow both too drunk and bone-sober. We left after closing time. As he dropped me off at my apartment, my Uber driver said “See you on the other side … in hell.”
The next day, I called into some asinine meeting. Put together some dumb deck about “cultural moments” or whatever for a soda brand. Working, and work, felt stupid.
Anyway, I say all this because this year is obviously different. There will be no bar watch-party, and not just because of the pandemic. No life-size cutouts. No early morning voting line camaraderie, because we dropped our ballots in a box.
It’s hard to unclench my jaw. Tonight, I might cook something that takes a while, like caldo gallego. Even though ✨self-care✨ is such a privileged eyeroll, nourishment feels like a real choice to make.
IF YOU’RE READING THIS, IT’S (TIME FOR LESS BLEAK CONTENT)
An interview with the curator of Lorem, one of my favorite Spotify-generated playlists.
Simple, resourceful cooking with Jacques Pépin.
Jobs that honestly sound kind of nightmarish: “It Happened to Me: I Was a Terrible Party Reporter.”
ICYMI: the oral history of “Wishbone” that we didn’t know we absolutely needed.