on the universe rebalancing itself
Two quick stories about the universe kind of… balancing itself out.
One
While in London three weeks ago with a friend who follows many cats on Instagram, my friend gets excited because she sees one of those cats is having a birthday party in a few days, at a London pub. I tell her sure, why not. Let’s go to a cat birthday party.
This cat is internet-famous 1) because she is deaf, and 2) because she loves riding in the basket of her owner’s bicycle. They ride all over London together. I think the cat may even wear goggles? The point is that this cat is extremely unbothered. You can take her to a pub, put her in a tutu, and she will just chill.
We arrive at the pub and I almost don’t see the cat because of the crowd around her. The birthday girl mostly ignores all the people who have come to see her and give her gifts. We meet one woman who traveled two hours to come to this event. There is a line to get selfies.
I think the whole thing is cute and silly. (And admit I would have gone absolutely nuts if it had been Mabel’s or Olive’s birthday.)
I try to joke with the bartender that this cat must be good for business. He makes some reference to the next level of hell, and then tells me humanity has about 300 years left. I tell him I am just trying to get through the Trump administration. “Fair point,” he grunts.
After two hours of watching people watch the cat, we leave. We decide on a restaurant for dinner. It will be a 20-minute walk. We are still laughing about the cat when I hear Uptown Top Ranking (YouTube) playing across the street.
“I have to get closer to wherever that music is coming from,” I tell my friend.
We cross the street. There is another pub. The door is open. Inside are all my people: Middle-aged mods, rude boys, (traditional, nonracist) skinheads.1
There are two DJs spinning records. I ask my friend if it’s OK if we go in, as I’m already halfway through the door. She gives me a look that says “Of course! I just made you go to a cat’s birthday party!”
Five minutes later I’m on the dance floor, beer in hand, singing “Enjoy Yourself” at the top of my lungs, dancing with people who probably got to see The Specials the first time around. We stay through some Toots, Madness, Selecter, Paragons, and “Ghost Town.” Leaving on that high note, I’m happy I got to have that faux nostalgia moment in London of all places.
Two
I’m back in the DMV, volunteering at A Wider Circle. An incredibly wealthy old woman must have died. It’s all hands on deck unloading her stuff from that truck. There are 141 or 142 pairs of vintage Ferragamo pumps, still in their boxes. And rack after rack of vintage designer clothes: Mostly 1980s and 1990s Yves Saint Laurent, with some Chanel, Armani, Escada, and other high-end brands sprinkled in for fun. The large majority of it is in perfect condition. I feel like someone has let me into the Met’s archives.
Several days later, on a Saturday when there are lots of people working in the warehouse, two new volunteers unroll a donated rug. A dead rat falls out of it.
Buttondown is glitching right now when I try to add links. But FYI that Gmail is rolling out a new tool that lets you mass-unsubscribe from marketing emails. (Lifehacker)
And if you’re on TikTok (maybe IG?) look up Lemur Brain. He’s twerking to someone else’s song about throwing it back, and it makes me smile and laugh every single time.
The white power/neo-Nazi skinheads are an entirely different subculture. The nonracist, “traditional” ones came first, and it was mostly about music and clothes. It’s a long story and there are documentaries you can watch if you want to learn more. ↩