Hi Darling Ones,

Last night I had a dream about watching a pornographic version of Bell Biv DeVoe’s “Poison” video with my mom, sisters, niblings, and Hanif Abdurraqib. What makes this odd is I do not remember what the “Poison” video looks like. I refuse to go look, on principle.

This dream is why I’ve been listing to New Edition today. Obviously.

I loved New Edition as a kid and that loyalty is why I never feel for New Kids on the Block. I liked the other kids, so much so that the first concert I ever paid my own money to see was Bell Biv DeVoe with Keith Sweat and Johnny Gill as openers.

As I was listening to “Cool it Now,” a video I do remember, and was in awe of brains. Mine specifically.

The stroke may have stolen my balance, the calmness inside my head, and my ability to walk, but I still know the “Cool it Now” raps by heart. Yes, both of them.

Then, as one does with songs they loved when they were 12, I tried to figure out what the song is about. Bobby falling in love with a girl. Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, and Mike telling him to cool it, take it at her pace or risk losing the girl who is right on time. The Bobby’s all, “If I love the girl, who cares who you like?”

Why must he cool it? Because they don’t like her or is he moving too fast for her?

OR is this song the first in that weird little spate of pro-abstinence AIDS-awareness adjacent pop tunes like Jermaine Stewart’s “We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” and Janet Jackson’s “Let’s Wait Awhile”? Mid-80s was early AIDS awareness time, right? I figure it must have been if I was working at an AIDS project in Eau Claire, WI by 1994.

That’s how my mind is wandering today.

#TeamNewEdition for life,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

How goes it? I’m eating Dots for the first time in nearly three years and they are delicious. I’ve missed Dots. I also miss Starburst. I do not miss jellybeans because I keep an empty Talenti-pint of them in my nightstand drawer for low blood sugar purposes. And, let me tell you, nothing cures your craving for FaveReds jellybeans (RIP greenbag starburst jellybeans) like chewing them at 3 a.m., grinding sugar into your recently brushed teeth while your glucose monitor will not shut the fuck up about your impending death by low blood sugar.

ANYWAY, I miss Dots, but not more than I enjoy having a 5.4 A1C.

Orange you glad you asked? Nobody asked, but I am feeling icky about having fallen off the writing wagon. Today’s probably not the best day to write because my head is especially “strokey,” which makes focussing extra difficult. Like most of my strokiness I do things just to spite it as if this collection of annoyances has a personality.

Along with eating Dots I’m also listening to the new Amanda Shires’ album. It came out yesterday and so I’m still pondering it. The jury is still out in the Court of Spinster Opinion. One of these days I’m gonna get around to writing about The Beths’ new record because I love it so much I had to text my friend Hotrod heart eyes emojis about it.

I’ve also been listening to Stoned: Jewelry, Obsession, and How Desire Shapes the World by Aja Raden and it is fabulous. It’s my favorite kind of nonfiction — well-written, funny, and filled with news-to-me stuff. For instance did you know that emeralds are green because of Chromium? Me neither and now I love them even more.

Most of my time, though, is spent pondering what I’m going to do with the rest of my life if/when I get on the dole. What will I do if I don’t use my brain capacity worrying about money and my time trying to earn money? I’m not sure. In the before I’d just write and write and write some more. It’s what I’ve always longed for the time and freedom to write. Now that I might get that, writing is physically taxing. My Floppy Scoop and eyes are not fans of the typing and reading. I’ve certainly been cursed with be careful what you wish for. Or so it seems.

Floudneringly yours,
Jodi

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Hola Darling Ones,

I’m becoming the kind of person who says “hola” in greeting. I say it about 93 times a day. Each time a cat comes down the stairs I say, “Hola, Gatito/Gatita. I love you. You’re a cat!”

They often need reminders both that I love them and that they’re cats. I don’t want them to forget, especially because Fergus’ theme song is about her being the worst.

In my head it’s a Gidgetesque song. A Jodi & Fergus duet that goes like this:
Whose the worst cat in the whole wide world?
It’s Fergus!
That’s me! (and she says this with one of her furry paws in the air, toe beans on display)

Who’s a total delight while she’s ruining your life?
It’s Fergus!
That’s me!

She’s a menace to her father.
A menace to her brother.
A menace to every one who loves her.
It’s Fergus!
That’s me!

See? We have fun!

Anyway, I came here to write a few words of appreciation. I didn’t appreciate anything in March and I feel a little shitty about that. Not because anyone cares, but because I let myself down by not doing it. I’ve lost or am redefining so much of who I am that it feels icky when I don’t write.

The Antidote by Karen Russell

My favorite novel so far this year. Five stars! Inventive and smart, though I have a few reservations about it.

It’s about a Prairie Witch in dust bowl era Nebraska who is a vault for people’s memories. They deposit them into her and get a deposit slip they can use to retrieve the memory at a later date.

There’s also a basketball loving teen girl, her bachelor uncle, a photographer, a cat, a scarecrow, a photographer, and a sheriff. There’s a bunch of history and magical realism and all of it is wonderful. A story about weather and the land and what we did to it and what role our memories play in making us whole. I loved it all. If you read it we must talk!

Earth to Moon by Moon Unit Zappa

I did not expect much from this memoir by Frank Zappa’s eldest child. I knew of her vaguely because of MTV and the song Valley Girl. But I like music and music-adjacent books. This one was a damn delight. Zappa is funny and smart, and tells the story of her family with honesty. It’s not a happy story and while she has much more empathy for her mother, I do not. Gail Zappa was a vindictive monster. Check it out if you’re into music, sacrifices people make to “male genius,” or twisted moms.

The Latest Jams

A few words about some records I’ve been digging recently.

• “Send a Prayer My Way,” Julien Baker & Torres. In the BS (before stroke) era, this would have been an automatic pre-order, but I can’t buy records anymore due to being poor. However, thanks to streaming I get to listen to this lovely lesbian country album. I super appreciate it because it’s matching up nicely with a book I read recently (The Exvangelicals by Sarah McCammon) and making me think about religious trauma.
• “Big Ugly,” Fust. You know I don’t often give new male artists a lot of my attention, so you know this has gotta be good. It gives me a bit of that 70s country rock vibe. Plus, they have a song called “Jody” and I forgive them the misspelling.
• “Billboard Heart,” Deep Sea Diver. Do you like rock & roll music? You’ll like this.
• “I Don’t Know But How They Found Me!” Jensen McRae. Listen if you like well-written, deeply emotional songs by young women. I love this one because the feelings are universal, but the perspective is new to me (she’s like 30 years young than I am).

What have you been reading or listening to, Darling Ones?

Love,
Jodi (not Jody)

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Greetings Darling Ones,

How are you? I’ve spent most of March hiding out from my economic anxiety and doing my best to ignore the fascist overthrow of the United States with varying degree of success.

Lately, I’ve been filling my days writing fan fiction in my head about the relationship between Jason Isbell, Amanda Shires, and Anna Weyant. If you don’t know these people, that’s okay neither do I.

This fan fiction is based on Isbell’s excellent new record “Foxes in the Snow;” Shires’ last record “Take it Like a Man; the documentary “Running With Our Eyes Closed;” and things I’ve gleaned from social media.

Here’s a quick primer: Isbell and Shires were the Johnny & June of my world and when they announced their divorce in December 2023 I was heartbroken. Anna Weyant, a 30-year-old painter based in NYC, is Isbell’s new partner.

Depending on the day of the week, how much sunshine there is, and how much sleep I’ve had Isbell does not do well in the court of spinster opinion. Ovaries before Brovaries and all.

Let me restate, FITS is a beautiful record. It’s the first Isbell record I’ve truly loved in a long time. Gone is all the guitar wankery and what not. This is just Isbell’s voice and a guitar. Lovely. Lyrically it’s brilliant & brave, cliché & mean, and overall very human. What’s not to love?

In my head most of the songs are about his ex-wife and his new lover. This is where the mean and cliché come in.

“Foxes in the Snow” is a song about the new woman and it makes me cringe so hard I’m surprised I haven’t lost three inches from my height and have a permanent rictus grin. The repetition of “I love my love is ick. The line about everything putting him near her skin, the carrot and the stick. . . it’s all basic and feels a bit like it’s trying. Isbell knows how to write a love song and this ain’t it.

The two songs I really like to go back to are “Eileen” and “Gravelweed.” Boy, do they give me the thinks.

“My own behavior was a shock to me, he sings. “You should have seen this coming sooner. . . You thought the truth was just a rumor.”

In the court of Spinster Opinion I’m all, “Exactly what are you confessing to here, Mr. Isbell? what should she have seen and exactly what was the rumor? Hmmm?”

And his lawyer, Mortimer, shouts, “OBJECTION. Hearsay.”

“Gravelweed” is the knock me on my ass, infuriate me, and then begin to put me back together song.

In it Isbell sings, “I was a gravelweed, and I needed you to raise me. You couldn’t reach me once I felt like I was raised.”

This one makes me feel very fuck you, very much. Thanks for the self-reflection and all, but you see how shitty it is to require your partner and lover to raise you, right? RIGHT? That’s a lot to ask of someone who is supposed to be your equal, not your mother. It’s so selfish and then to abandon her when you gelt all grown up? Garbage.

But he gets back me with the next line, “And now that I live to see my melodies betray me, I’m sorry the love songs all mean different things today.”

Damn, the stark and beautiful honesty.

I also get pissed at the song “True Believer” with the whole All your girlfriends say I broke your fucking heart and I don’t like it.” Tough titties, friend, you don’t get to decide if you broke someone’s heart.

Like a good lawyer I’m cherry picking the lyrics to fit my argument. Like a good Gemini I’m not entirely sure what I’m arguing.

Regardless, the jury agreed unanimiously that “Foxes in the Snow” is a sparse, beautiful record worthy of the attention, argument, and thought.

You may be seated,
Honorable Judge Jodi Chromey

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Hola Darling Ones,

Every month I vow to work on this post throughout the month so my eyes & Floppy Scoop don’t eet pooped out from all the typing and reading. Every month I do not do that. But hope springs eternal, so maybe next month?

Matthew Sweet Recovers from Stroke at Madonna

I’ve watched this video of Sweet’s stroke recovery process about 12 times since my friend Robin shared it with me. Each time I get a little shaky and anxious and then tears shoot from eyes. It’s cathartic.

I see a lot of my experience in his. The slight shake of his head as he speaks is the same shake my head does. The tremor is his left hand is similar to the one in my right. The inability to walk more than a few feet, same! When I was doing weekly OT/PT I didn’t get to use a cool robotic arm, and there was zero drawing with markers. Instead, my OT had me typing and writing, because that’s what writers do.

This is a good watch if you’re curious about what stroke recovery is like.

The Floor

Sister #2 dropped her appreciation for the Rob Lowe-hosted gameshow into the family chat telling us it was a nice balance for all the murder shows she usually watches.

While I usually ignore most TV suggestions for everyone (i’m bad at watching TV), Sister #4 and I gave it shot when she was here for dinner one night.

Darling Ones, I love it because it’s a trivia gameshow you have to watch and pay attention to. This means you can’t doomscroll or practice Spanish or crochet while it’s on. I mean you could, but you’d miss the point. Contestants, who get to pick their area of expertise, have to identify things by picture or missing word. Since I’m an arrogant prick, I have to watch to prove I know more than they do.

It is a delight to just focus on one single thing without my brain weasels involved. It is the most relaxing 20-45 minutes (depending on my attention span) of my day.

I also like it because it makes me ponder what my expert category would be. My first choice was “Bob’s Burgers” but after watching men continuously fail because they don’t recognize women rappers, athletes, CEOs, actors, etc., I’d probably go with Female Indie Singers and then rule that floor.

The Harder I Fight the More I Love You by Neko Case

Holy buckets did I love this memoir. So much so that’s I’m gonna have to revisit my Top 10 Nonfiction Music Books from 2021.

Before cracking the book I knew Case was an excellent songwriter, I’ve been a fan of eons. However, great songs don’t always translate into great memoirs (sorry Bob Mould, Pete Townshend, Kathleen Hanna, etc.), Case’s memoir is great. It’s emotionally honest, interesting, and unsparing. It focuses a lot on her early years growing up in poverty and it’s rough to read at times, but you can see the genisus of some her songs in the stories she shares, and that is the best.

Greek Yogurt Bagels

As previously mentioned I care about carbs & protein now. One of the ways I’ve cramming more protein into my gob is by making Greek Yogurt Bagels for my daily breakfast sandwich. They are pretty good. I’ve made them twice and the second time they were even better (perhaps I kneaded them more?). If you care about carbs and bagels, give them a short. I’m hesitant to share any recipe from a site barfily called “skinnytaste,” but it’s the recipe I follow.

What have you been digging, Darling Ones? I’m ever-so curious.

Appreciatively yours,
Jodi

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