Hi and welcome to Other Kinds of Intimacy.

I know I’m getting to be a Manileño because it’s 78 degrees and breezy and I’m like, it’s COLD. And because I’m suffering from seasonal allergies here for the first time.

What else? I greased a traffic enforcer for the first time a few months ago. He pulled me over for being in the turning lane but going straight. Definitely paid him too much, rookie mistake. And when he spotted the basketball in my passenger seat (lol), I found myself engaging in lightly humiliating Tagalog small talk about how I only play by myself because I don’t have any kalaro (person you play with). Look…I’ve never bribed anyone before.

I’m not exactly proud of any of these things (OK, maybe a little bit for the last one but probably because I’ve only heard about men doing it, which is maybe more about my pride around being someone who drives in Manila), but I appreciate them for what they are: markers. Of time spent, of becoming of a place, of adjusting enough to realize the full range of experience, even or maybe especially the annoying stuff you’d never get to face if you were just visiting.

It reminds me of how artist Dorcas Tang talked about intimacy: “the fickle gift of connection.” In other words, not shying away from “the messy parts of being in relation to people.” To people, to places, to your art, and on and on.

Do you have any fickle badges of honor re: places you’ve lived? Write me and let me know.

I’m playing around with formats for letters in between the reported pieces, trying to get a little looser with it.

Below, some sections I’m trying out: intimacy-oriented reading recs, a window into the Other Kinds of Intimacy mailbag, a humble relationship rec, and a poem.

Reading material

A call to stop yearning for yearning’s sake. (Anyone else feel called out?)

“Falling in age-gap love, the world seems ready at every turn to remind you of all the ways your relationship might fail. And so I look for the exceptions.”

“I told the woman, ‘I don’t want a boyfriend or a husband. I want lovers.’ She said, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”

“I’m not someone big on the idea that sex transforms virgins, but I do believe intimacy changes people.”

Celia Mattison on two Canadian movies that are “a testament to that creative power of friendship.” One of them, Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie, she writes, is about “the surreal pleasure of having a best friend.” And I keep repeating that phrase in my head—almost excessive in its phrasing and yet, it is delicious to speak precisely because it feels so true.

Notes from you

In response to letter #7, about two friends in a long-term partnership built around their shared home, Carol wrote: “i love the idea of platonic life partnership (similar to ‘Two Women Living Together’), and i already know who i'd live with (a former roommate in sf, actually). if [my husband] dies or we divorce, I'm basically gonna propose to her.”

Why not…share some private praise you received?

The other day a friend of mine sent me a few choice paragraphs from his performance review. I’ve never put much stock in performance reviews but this one, I felt, really captured something about his work, as seen by the person who knows it best (his manager). It might feel a little embarrassing to share praise, for fear of bragging, but I adore hearing people gush about my beloveds and their work. I like seeing them from this other angle and feeling trusted enough to receive it. It’s like they’re saying, you—I want you to share in this moment of pride with me. I know you’ll get it.

Dress sexy at my funeral

—after Smog

wear white / wear red / wear your fuck me boots / play Prince / play Bowie / play fiddles / even if i’m the only one 
who thinks they’re sexy / make sure / there’s an afterparty / make sure / it’s karaoke / stay / all night / stay / a little longer 
wear leather / wear chains / wear what you’d wear to meet me / we’ll fill up / every jukebox / in this city / we’ll dance like nobody
is dying / keep the jade for my niece / bury me / in the red dress and the Reeboks / i want to be ready / to run / in the next life
let me tell you a secret / i’m not ready / to go / so / miss me / even though / it’s selfish / to ask / forgive me / forgive me
for what i did / and didn’t say / forgive me and miss me / like it was sudden / like no one saw it coming / miss me so much 
i can’t cross over / let me come back / in the middle of a party / extra-dry martini spilling / down my wrist / let me come back
to oysters swimming / in chilled shells brimming / with brine / let me come back / in the morning / long fingers of wisteria
combing my hair / waxwings / calling my name / naked / my body / intact / blood-hot / scarless / freckled / with dew

—Theo LeGro

published in FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry (Issue 59, Spring/Summer 2022), found via Ashna Ali

That’s it from me. I’m gonna pop an antihistamine and climb under my blanket because like I said, it’s cold.

Till Sunday again,

Juliana