Wait. What Happened? K.
RIP summer '24.
Welcome new friends! Shoutout to my day ones! Big kisses to my angelic paid subscribers! 💋
The audio version of BIAD has returned. If you’d rather listen to me yap this one out, click the player above. This week’s episode is brought to you by me officially seeing the entire internet. Here’s proof.
If you just made your way here, I’m so happy you found me. I’m Liz and this is my weekly-ish dish on how nuts everything is. Don’t be shy, subscribe. And if you like what you read, forward it to your girlies and boysies.
Hi friends!
Back in June, fresh off the middle path, en route to judge people at Erewhon, I announced the beginning of a “Summer IRL” series where I would extract myself from the internet’s talons and spend the season writing about my offline adventures “unless there is an event that demands discussion.”
LOL. Who’s gonna tell past me?
Unhingement is my muse, and I am its captive, so I proceeded to write about the election all summer until I declared that I needed a vacation from it. I have no regrets.
Honestly, you guys, what the fuck was that? What’s even happening now? Why do I feel like I started this summer somewhat grounded and ended it feeling like I just got ejected from John Malkovich’s brain? Now I have to find my way home from New Jersey? But, also, like, not in a bad way?
Seeds are sprouting. New plots have hatched. I got in my bunker. This was a summer of change. And change is never comfy, whether you ask for it or not. Don’t worry about me — I’m totally fine over here. I’m dangling off the hinge with a smile on my face.
My only real gripe: I swear it was just July and now it’s September. Feels too soon but I guess I’ll do fall eventually. I love me a good harvest season.
Since we have so many new renegades and beauty queens in this growing newsletter cult, I think it’s time I re-introduce myself.
Hi (again), I’m Liz! Biologically, I’m 38. Spiritually, I’m both 15 and 50. I’m a Scorpio sun, Libra rising, Leo moon (I know). My favorite part of life is the journey and my greatest passion is talking to the friends I make along the way.
I’ve been working in social media since 2011. I can tell you how to optimize your Instagram content with a level of fluency that feels like a disease.
I’m a real city bitch. I was born and raised in Toronto, then moved to New York in my early twenties where I enjoyed many years of degeneracy, self-discovery, and chaos. When I was about to turn thirty, I lost my mind (or found it?), got rid of almost everything I owned, and went to Southeast Asia on a one way ticket. I traveled around for six months, on buses that would now put me in a grave.
Eventually, I made my way back to my best friend’s couch in Los Angeles. It was February and the weather was nice, so I found a job writing clickbait headlines above a tattoo parlor and stayed.
Under the California sun, I let chaos go, discovered an excellent substitute in delusion, and through a bit of happenstance and a lot of hustle, had quite the time doing internet things in Hollywood. Sorry, the best stories are under an NDA that I only violate at dinner parties after three sips of red wine.
I started writing this newsletter about a year and a half ago, at the end of a period of very sparse freelance work. I was unnerved by all the “AI will take your job” news during a vortex of instability in the entertainment industry. I wanted to make something that felt … human.
That winter had been heavy. There was still so much trauma and grief in the air. For months, my friends and I talked about how unhinged the pandemic had made a lot of people we knew, with addiction relapses and ayahuasca trips both on the rise in a certain demo (white men, are you OK?).
But it wasn’t just the emotional fallout from the pandemic making everyone nuts, it was also the economy, climate anxiety, and podcast hosts. I felt like we needed something to call this “world-gone-mad-screen-addicted-content-goblin” era.
I came up with the Age of Unhingement™️ at a Starbucks. It was Valentine’s Day and I was supposed to be working on another project that was annoying me. I always come up with my best ideas when I’m avoiding something else.
Two months later, I gathered the strength to send my first missive and embody my life purpose of being a mid-brow internet clown. Now, here we are.
One thing I have learned from spreading my Unhingement gospel for the past year and change is that there are people who don’t think everything is insane. Some people love Black Mirror vibes. Some people are independently wealthy but not “building a bunker in New Zealand” wealthy. Some people, like my Uncle Carl, are just not addicted to their phone.
Carl is a dairy farmer. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him with a phone. He gets up at dawn and spends his days birthing calves and fighting the good fight against nuts and oats to keep cow’s milk relevant. Salt of the earth. Married into the family. One of the greatest people you will ever meet and he makes a famous egg salad. He straight up told me he has no idea what this newsletter is about. Fair enough.
As for me, I once produced a month-long, cross country shoot for a Facebook Watch documentary series about female dairy farmers (bovine girlbossing), sponsored by Big Butter. At our final stop in rural Minnesota, a crew member had a psychotic break and barricaded himself with half the equipment in a motel room. I had to negotiate the van keys back from him.
We live in different galaxies, Carl and I.
Proof of cow content (2019):
OK. Where was I? Sending this crazy-ass summer off. Right.
I’m starting to believe the skateboard man on TikTok who said we jumped to a better timeline when Trump didn’t die. How else can you explain the paradigmatic vibe shift from the tasty, diabolical rap beef that kicked off summer to Oasis getting the band back together again? It’s giving pivot towards unity or the Gallagher brothers craving enough wealth to build their apocalypse bunkers.
Because this summer felt so chaotic, there was too much time spent trying to make sense of things. First, there was the news to deal with. Then, the commentary on the news. And then, because the best way out of the matrix is definitely to create more content about the matrix, the commentary on the commentary.
A plume of Brat green smoke wafted over the zeitgeist and everyone inhaled.
This summer, the memes didn’t exist in the context of what came before them — they lasted for like four months and launched Kamala Harris’s unexpected presidential campaign. It was brilliant marketing and really fucking weird. The intensity made the internet launch pumpkin spice season like two weeks earlier than usual. I can’t even comment on demure or mindful, I’m worried I’ll get a brain bleed.
After this summer’s online behavior, I do believe ignorance is not just bliss but the ultimate luxury these days. It’s serenity. It’s elegance. It’s old school glamor to refuse to keep up with the hottest takes. And to have one? How uncouth.
But who (other than Uncle Carl) gets to live this life of literal quiet luxury?
I’m still thinking about the remote Amazonian tribe Elon Musk ruined with his satellite internet. I hope they’re OK — I mean, they can’t live without the internet anymore, so they’re not. But at least now if someone gets bitten by a venomous snake, help can be contacted quickly. “Going back is no longer an option,” one of the tribe members told the New York Times.
And I feel that in my soul. There is no other option for most of us. My meta little rat trap of a mind makes memes for a living. These hot takes are my release valve. Not having an opinion? Could never be me.
My election vacation is over and I can’t wait to countdown the hottest moments of next week’s fever dream debate. Not sure the chemistry can beat the original dynamic duo — but you know my gorl Kamala has some TikTok sounds up her expensive sleeve.
As I said back in July:
I know chaos isn’t cozy. I know that we all would love to, like, politically chill for a minute. But lawless energy has a major upside in endless possibility.
By the way, fall is the time of year when shit gets crazy. So have a sip of Pellegrino, babe. Summer was just the appetizer. Feels like we’re all under construction at the moment and we have an election to deal with in 59 days.
I’ll see you next week!
Less Lessons More Blessin’s™️
Liz
Regards from Uncle Carl ❤️
You do have a way!😎❤️