"I just know Jamie Foxx became a feminist that day."
Virtual reality! Beyoncé! Britney! Christina!
It’s Sunday, we are just ten days away from the Selling Sunset season 4 premiere and I have a double-feature cinema trip to see Dune and Spencer planned for today. All my batteries are drained this week: I over-extended physically and mentally, over-worked myself to meet deadlines, kept more appointments than I realistically had energy for and slept terribly. I’m looking forward to having a little time to myself.
I have one of those watches that tracks your every stomach rumble, and every night this week my stress levels have rocketed the second my head hit the pillow. I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out what could be troubling me - beyond the usual things that trouble me - and I think I’ve figured out what’s causing me such nocturnal distress: the crisp shortage.
You’ve noticed it right? The shelves are empty of crisps. Distressingly empty this close to Christmas. Not to be a selfish dickhead, but I texted my dad this morning asking him to start stockpiling. It’s bad enough that I’m going to be trapped in Coventry, away from my things and doing jury service for the whole of December, I’m not doing it without Wotsits.
Something to do…
Hyper Reality on Mile End Road if it’s close by, but really any VR experience local to you is good fun for a couple hours. We got an “unlimited” pass for £30 which actually has a limit of one go on everything, but that was good value for money still. The zombie shooter had me fighting for my fucking life; if you saw me screaming in fear on my Instagram Story on Wednesday evening, please understand that I was being swarmed by zombie spiders. If you’re looking for ideas for a date, this is a great one, but you need to be five or six dates in (or in a relationship, on date night) and comfortable enough to lose yourself in the immersion for it to be anywhere close to a good time. There were a lot of stiff, straight couples playing in absolute silence, which like… okay maybe you aren’t at all freaked out by a Nazi on a jetpack rising 10 feet into the air and shooting torpedos at you, but I mean, if you’re not gonna commit to the simulation, what’s the fucking point, y’know?
Something to read…
I’ve been too busy to read anything at all this week so I am going to shamelessly plug my own writing instead, starting with this Q&A for Vice with Tshepo Mokoena, the author of a mini-Beyoncé biography that came out on Thursday. I always love chatting to pop fans about their faves, and Tshepo has so much incredible insight into the Beyoncé phenomenon and the ways she has impacted pop culture.
In light of the truly wonderful Britney news on Friday night, I wrote something reflective about feeling complicit in the conservatorship arrangement. When I migrated the email list for my Tinyletter over to here instead, I put everyone on two weeks of free access to paid content, which I think ended yesterday so it’s now behind the paywall, but it should still be in your inbox if you wish to read it.
Something to remember…
The 2007 Grammys were pre-Twitter, and that’s the only reason I can think that Christina Aguilera’s mind-blowing tribute performance of ‘It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World’ doesn’t appear on the timeline every couple months like: “she ate this (33.7k Retweets, 198k likes)”. From the 1.50 mark to the end of the song is some of the most affecting live performance I’ve ever seen in my life and the way it cuts to the shell-shocked crowd just sort of dazed and trying to make sense of what they just witnessed is the perfect, hilarious chaser. Christina was singing with the voice of every single woman who has ever been hurt, damaged or scarred by this “man’s world” we live in and everyone in that room could feel the spirit. I just know Jamie Foxx became a feminist that day.