The Quarter Centennial - MMII July 20 2026

July 19^th, 2026, The Quarter Centennial

In public, I am a plant photosynthesizing information around me and transporting nutrients under the surface we share. Through our common space, I absorb you.

“There is no end to the ways a person can find people in whatever frequency or routine they want. People and conversations are accessible everywhere.” - January 19, 2026, 3p.m.

The “Fuchsia Book” is a Rhodia journal I bought in New Mexico on January 10^th, 2026, a day before my 25^th birthday and a week before returning to Texas. It documents the final days of my addiction and misery. This is part one of two.

This journal is like a lab notebook that I carry around to record my observations. Sometimes it feels like the world is an experiment that I am running under the software of my imagination.  There is a clear attempt to switch my attention from myself to the environment which I’m existing in. No amount of yearning can replace real connection, though the feeling of longing seems to satiate some other desire.  Alas, I will continue to try and get out of this container.

I’m so sick of being in a transitional period. There is simply nothing left to “figure out”, I have had thought every thought a person can think about themselves. This last year and a half have been the most chaotic and transformative time of my life. Often, the experiences in my mind seem fake- belonging to someone else. It seems impossible to wrap my head around the person I have become.

Beginning 2026, I was strung out in New Mexico with a boy I barely knew and had no idea when or how things would get better. Six months later (July 20^th), I’m finally sober (2 ½ months from alcohol and hard drugs, 2 ½ weeks from tobacco, and 2 days from weed). Right now, I’m the most sober I have been in years, maybe a decade. There is almost no context for a decade when I only have two and half under my belt. How do I forgive myself for wasting half my youth?

This will be at least the fourth time in 25 years that I have completely abandoned everything, and everyone associated with the life I had been living. Spontaneously quitting gymnastics and becoming a depressed, sedentary child. Dropping out of high school into perfect isolation for three years. Leaving Tinkerbell one afternoon and driving far away. It is not my first time walking away from an entire life and group of people. All I have to show is a bunch of self-obsessed, useless writing. Suffering may not leave you with nothing, but it takes time to transform it.

“It is going to take leaving to leave. I didn't think I'd be here so long into the new year, but here I am. My life is about to become about solitude. I want to be a person who has long-lasting, reciprocal relationships. If I can be there for Tinkerbell, I can be there for anyone.” - Jan 15, ~4PM Las Cruces, NM.

After a month in Las Cruces over the new year, we galivanted up north to gamble. It was the last adventure that Edgar and I would go on before I departed back to Texas, or ever again for that matter. I was alone for most of my time in Ruidoso, while Edgar was at the casino with his friend. Being alone and coming off drugs in a completely random town (in a random state) finally put into perspective how far off the reservation I was. With such a resounding loneliness, nothing meaningful came to mind…

“Downtown in a mountain town at an “Internet café” called Downshift. I bought some beads in Las Cruces before we left. I have not taken off the last of 2025 bracelets, which I have had sewed on my wrist for about eight months now. I wonder what kinds of stones and minerals are native to these lands.”-Jan 17, 2:22 PM, Ruidoso, NM. In the mountains of the Mescalero Reservation.

Coming down off cocaine requires more drugs or alcohol. All there was for me to do in Ruidoso was what I had been doing in Las Cruces: smoking, drinking and driving through the mountains. This place seemed so foreign but familiar to me, I often compared the terrain to Virginia as I drove. So far from home that the geographical changes had come full circle back to something I felt acclimated to.

The depth of this detour had become profound; it amazed me how fluid a person’s life becomes on drugs. In one month, I was somehow farther and closer to who I wanted to be than ever. It was bitter-sweet to be in such a beautiful town while my spirit was so afflicted. It would be nice to go back one day.

I had been sick on and starting over the summer and into 2026. It came to a fever-pitch in New Mexico and left me bedridden on the floor of a child’s playroom. I remember being so ashamed of my current condition and imposition on Edgar’s family that I could not face them, even to get water. For days, I just lay there dehydrated and sweating in an overheated room while Edgar partied. Maybe I wanted to die during that time, it sure felt like death was upon me and it still wasn’t enough to help myself.

Getting out of Ruidoso was the most liberating feeling after being stuck in New Mexico between addiction and sickness. From Ruidoso to Austin is about ten hours, a minor American tour including Roswell, NM.

AUSTIN, TEXAS

After a year of living out of my car between states, I wanted somewhere pleasant to decompress and recover in solitude. There are so many great short-term rental options in Austin, one of the reasons is it is so easy to come here. In the first year, I chose the absolute worst places to stay which consistently destroyed my potential. Though the sickness had waned, it followed me back to Texas and took its time. If there was any hope of getting better, there could be no more purposefully bad choices.

“This is the nicest rental I have ever had anywhere. I believe houses are feminine, of course… It was a long journey. The last few days have felt like torture. I wonder what is to become of Edgar, and to my New Mexican dream. I’ve returned to Austin for the next dream.” - Jan.18, Brentwood, ATX, 11PM

“THE BIG FREEZE THAT KEPT ME STILL”

Towards the end of January, a cold front came through central Texas and rocked Austin for giggles. The whole city seemed to come to a grinding halt. It was convenient to come back to a slow, cold city. I nestled into a corner that I liked and incubated my energy. Misery is realizing that an eclipse of isolation is beginning. Productivity is the cure.

Last year, it was impossible to commit to anywhere long-term. Now, touring these apartments just feels performative, which is to be expected I guess. It’s like I’m auditioning for a role that I want to play; all these things are not natural to me, but they are for the girl I am imitating. I was dragging my feet through the ice, though eventually made my way. 

“'m staying in an apartment-sized house that the host calls a cottage. It is such a relief after all this time to be comfortable and alone. So much so that it was difficult to get out of bed, though easy to take care of my body once I did. Now, I am about my day and feeling well. This is the type of place I could get used to.

My morning routine is a work in progress, and I know it is the key to success. The first step is getting into comfortable clothes that mimic day wear. There should be a smooth transition from sleep to waking life. Simple things can be extremely powerful, such as opening the windows and consulting my journals from the last few days. A vector is a line with direction and magnitude. Determination is an arrow.

The desire to make a world of my own creation often prevents me from making simple purchases that would immediately increase the quality of my life. It’s a spiritual affliction, and I suffer from it. With my mind and body in this condition, all I can do is get enough water and power through my bad habits. Determination and direction.

The traffic and convoluted infrastructure of Austin continue to aggravate me. My inability to navigate without my phone is demoralizing. I am done using navigation unnecessarily. Look, remember, drive.”  -Jan 19, 3p.m

I was struggling to feed myself (which isn’t abnormal) and took to eating like an Italian bird. The struggle to do basic things such as waking up and cleaning myself and space continues as normal.

“General shopping list: dates, cheese, honey, pear, avocado, small loaf of bread, cured meat. Life has resumed as usual. I feel okay most of the time.” -Jan 20

My vision for the future was open ended; the road still called my name. I made over 20 various sized (cotton) drawstring bags in the first few weeks of being back in Austin. Just imagine a hobo’s knapsacks, now the feeling of having a hundred of them!! Wouldn’t that make a person feel so free!

Bags have always captured my attention for their exquisite utility. The productivity was great medicine for my lingering illness. It had me thinking about the future and who I wanted in my life, which has changed again in the time since writing it. Though I was feeling better, the recovery process has seemed indefinite for the last six months. I shouldn’t have ever been that sick in the first place. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully get better.

“I have yet to see anyone from my past life in Austin. There are so many people to reconnect with now that I’m back in town… I miss Edgar. We have been talking on the phone every night since I've been here. I plan on keeping in contact and maintaining that friendship. I do not want to lose touch with him. I spent too long with his family and his home to treat him like he is disposable.” - Jan 21, 2pm

BAR MUSINGS I 

“Lieutenant invited me to a drag show, but I'm having difficulty… Without weed I am a leaky faucet. The depression is real, but I think I can accomplish what I set my mind to if I take slow steps towards sobriety. I know I can’t stay sober right now. I'll just accept modulation, dedicate myself to moderation.

To drink as I please, but not in excess; to smoke as I please, but not as a constant state of being. Life, life, life is about living. How do I live? It is hard to come down from any high, especially if the high has lasted a season for a reason, sometimes a lifetime.

This bar is packed out right now. This may be one of the only bars I’ve been to by myself. A great place to people watch, especially without obligation to company. There's so much to look at. So many signs, preserved animals, trinkets, and of course, people.

I’m letting go of all expectations and just going with the flow of everything. No one needs me; I don't need anyone. It's all going to settle into place.

People are weird.

Bags, bags, bags, bags, bags. All that is on my mind is encapsulating my life. Mobilize to the extreme and naturally, creativity will follow. Nothing else matters.

People are weird.

I hate Rumpelstiltskin. I have been thinking about him a lot recently. So many places remind me of him. That was one of the hardest lessons I've ever had to go through. Tinkerbell put me through a long form of torture, though Rumpel is the one who left me after all.

I hate poetry that seems to linger under the surface, never making a substantial appearance in my work. I want my insides to be a place of beauty, not this bubbling pustulate of meaning dwelling under my skin, never amounting to anything.

Bring me to that place where the underneath meets the sun. I thrive in purgatory. That's what lured me to this hellscape of a city.

Limerence. We both thought you were the worst one off. You probably still think that and maybe it is the truth. Sometimes it seems obvious that I am in more danger in a place like this, doing the things I find myself entangled with. I only want to be subjugated to my own sickness. That’s the suffering that I can accept, so I am safe now. Safer than you. Killing me would have been your suicide. Hate, hate, hate, love, love, love, hate, love, hate….” - Jan 22, ~8p.m

DELAYED COURSE OF ACTION

“I woke up to the sound of ice falling off the roof, and the world thawing around me…

I attempted another tour today. There was one very stressed employee in the office trying to find salt for the sidewalk and road. Someone from the city, probably. Everything has been delayed. I'm going to have to get another Airbnb for the first two weeks of February.” -  Jan 26, ~noon

“I had uncomfortable dreams last night that were too true to ignore. I want zero distractions in my life. I will annihilate unproductive mental creations. My mind is a garden that I have full autonomy over.” - Jan 27, workshop 1:30 p.m.

As I was churning out bags at the workshop, I started contemplating the parts of my process that I normally don’t think about until it comes time to work. Like deciding on what I’ll listen to since searching for music and podcasts takes time. Audio has a powerful effect on the atmosphere for manual labor. It is easy to forget that a vibe can be both manufactured and authentic for a purpose.

“It’s ironic that the first coffee shop I ever went to has become my favorite of them all. Before I knew anything, and no bad memories since. All I may think about is Edgar because of the blood bank next door… I’ve been getting up before noon for the last three days without an alarm or any extremely bad feelings. I have also been drinking wine first thing in the morning and smoking profusely. I'm changing for the better and worse in tandem. My back and neck are suffering. I think I lost the bracelet I just made.” - Jan 28, early afternoon.

BAR MUSINGS II

“A Moscow Mule. I will be in a new space soon. One more major change in scenery and environment.

This is my first time here. It is dense with patrons on a Wednesday night. There is a very odd smell here-alcohol and body odor, a familiar scent to me now. It’s in the neighborhood and nearing closing time; people are wishing each other safe travels as they depart.

I started on the next generation of cotton bags today, though I could not get into the groove. Edgar called and distracted me for at least half an hour, which threw me off. Then again, I was already belligerently high and wine-drunk by midday.

Bottles of alcohol. I’ve been buying wine because it’s easier to get past the self-checkout without my ID being scanned and coming up expired. The most they do is ask me the address, but in liquor stores they will scan that bitch immediately. When I get my ID, there should be no more bottles. Bars are the middle ground where me and alcohol can meet.

I blew off Lennon to go to the lake house, that’s what he's calling Sid’s studio. Good thing I said no, he tried to lure me out with coke later. I'm about a week since doing it for the last time (left over from New Mexico). I will go back in, I think, but I hope that is a drunk thought. When you know, you know, and there is certainty in not knowing.

What am I when it all falls away? The day-to-day sludge that I trod through in my mind, like a thick trash soup. What is it concealing? Here in Limbo, everyone is in a trance.

There is a biblical dynamic of between man and sin in the city. There are infinite levels of hell; they are all found on earth. You can observe a few from a higher place if your eyes are open. Though, most orbitals of hell are undetectable to those above. Therein lies predation - irony too, where there is crucial information about a person's circumstances that they are not privy to. Tragedy and comedy live there. “Eat or be Eaten” never meant so much to me until now.   

Anyway, this bar is not really doing it for me. There are many different smells going by. Some so familiar and sweet it makes me sick.

Drunken meetings hardly ever go anywhere. People forget names and faces. One-hundred first impressions of the same person, meeting over and over again for the first time. I'm terrible with names because I do not care. Transparency about inconsideration still burns. Singular memories amongst blurry recollection. They feel like symbols of the mind, just an incarnation of myself. I remember you for how I was feeling.

When I was in willful solitary confinement as a teenager, I realized that my life was a collection of fantasies and my memories are filtered through them. What would I expect of the 25-year-old version of me? Something different, but what?

It gets worse before it gets better. Where there is light, there is hope. So far, so great. Get with it. - Demi Lovato

I need another drink.” - Jan 29^th, Thursday ~ 1 a.m. at a Bar in North Austin

“Beautiful day, beautiful day. I have to poop.” ~ 2:30 p.m.

“I run around with nowhere to be, but the feeling of urgency. Thinking too much and not at all simultaneously, just a vat full of shit… I haven't drunk anything today and it's about 5 p.m... I should stay and talk, sit and look around more often. I just rush to the next thing and get high in between, so there is never any time for meaningful ideas and thoughts.” - Jan 29, ~ 5p.m.

FEBRUARY

“This apple pie is amazing. I had a raging headache last night. I'm very dehydrated from all the wine I've been guzzling, bottle after bottle into the recycling bin as if I were mass producing something. Liver damage, general body degradation, and life wasting is what this factory manufactures. God damn, this pie is good.

I left Brentwood this morning am off to another place up north. I think somewhere out of the mass of the city is going to be the key. I'm done with all these substances. I want to wake up, everything is dormant. My mind barely works. My body is okay. I've been dragging my feet with everything I'm trying to do. The last run of bags was like pulling teeth. I've wasted enough time; I can’t stop thinking about driving.

I like places that seem easygoing, but still lively. I'm sick of spying on coffee shops and bars and want to explore everything else. To be a part of the conversation – not some creepy eavesdropper scribbling in her journal. Where are the unfabricated vibes in this city? It seems like everything is a façade.” - February 1, 2026, ~ 3p.m

“It's the middle of my third week back in Austin. Bottles and ounces fall by the wayside. I have seen no one other than Gunna.

I've been in this new Airbnb for a few days now. This one is a garage with a heater and running water. There is, of course, a bed, mini fridge, and TV. It's perfect for my purposes, though depressing as hell. There is only one window located in what I imagine is the time-out corner.  

It has officially been one year since I left Virginia and Tinkerbell. I've been missing him in deep, sorrowful pangs. I feel his longing for me the worst. Sometimes I wish I could forget it all-his face and mind scrubbed from mine… but then that would be a waste. So, I wish instead to never have met him, and ran away to Austin at age 18 or anywhere else at all. It never mattered where I went, just that I left. I've been staring at the wall a lot lately.” – Feb. 4, North Austin, 8:30 p.m.

“Tinkerbell Boy will be 27 in seven days. He is a very big boy now. I want a much older man. That's what hurt him so many years ago when I naively confided in him about sexual preferences. Maybe that was a contributing factor of his resentment in the years after. He brought it up several times.”  - Feb 11, ~ 9:30 p.m. Home.

THE FINAL MOVE

I only managed to tour two apartments in the first two weeks. Fortunately, that’s all it took.

“My second official tour was successful; I immediately recognized this place as home. I'm not going to fill this place with bullshit. Instead, I will work through all my supplies and generate tons of products and paintings. I'm going to feel so grounded finally, and with workspace. That is the most important aspect of my quality of life that I've been missing.”- Feb 4, 8:30PM

“It's a gray day here in Austin. The green of the world seems much richer and inspiring. I'm sitting on the parking lot patio looking downtown from the mountains. The sun looks mean behind those dark clouds. I'm dressed up for the first time in what seems like years. It's a little too chilly to be out here, though I enjoy listening to the two old men reminiscing beside me.

Inside, it's nice and warm. I even found a seat with the same vantage point of downtown. I am yearning for her, far away but still visible. I suppose that's how Tinkerbell felt in those first few months while he stalked my blog. They nailed the music for this setting, slow and bassy, a little haunting but upbeat.”  Feb 10, 3p.m

“Today, this part of Austin became home, a far cry from last year’s lifestyle…. The princess's mattress was not easy to find and had to compromise ideal for real… I was extremely relieved to leave this last place: a dingy, dark, depressing little space. At least it didn't take as long to clean as the last place which I practically moved into… I'm so tired. I've been up and down for on little sleep for days, drinking, drinking, drinking, smoking, smoking, smoking.” - February 6^th, move in day

“I can't remember the last time I felt like I was home. I have never been happier looking forward at a space…

There are, of course, things that aren't exactly perfect: neighbors, renovation, proximity to the facility next door. I’m feeling very optimistic as I look through my welcome documents and investigate what’s around this neighborhood. I’m creating “mega data”, lists of places to visit systematically. Hopefully, this will expedite my exploration of and assimilation to the area.” - Feb 10 & 11, Midday

“One month of being 25, the 26th year in progress. I now have a table and a task chair… I think constantly about last summer’s antics. This is a small town - no one disappears for long.” - Feb 11, ~9:30 p.m.

“I found myself in south Austin today and didn't recognize where I was until I was on St. Elmo, even though I lived here for months before running off to New Mexico. Of course, this whole area reminds me of Rumpelstiltskin. The sun feels like a punishment in this concrete jungle. It must be visible from space like a diamond in the ruff.”

All night, blissful powders filled my dreams. How many times did I sit at this coffee shop near the old house, getting over and coming down from whatever I had been doing the day beforeThe usual baristas are here. Natural friends, easy to listen to, accessible. Maybe if I worked here last fall my inevitable crash out wouldn’t have been so seismic.

I’m thankful for Mabel Davis Park. She saved my ass many times when I had nowhere to go, Edgar too. There's nothing like her, and we came together on our own. While I’m down here, I’ll spend some time with Mabel walking, looking, reflecting.

To know all the places like her and fulfill my desire to paint in plein air. To fall in love with the city fully and unreservedly. I never poured myself into a man the way I'm going to pour into the city, paint her, draw her, know her.

It is better to have seen and experienced, than not. However, I wouldn't be upset if I didn't come this way often. Same with East Austin; it always feels like a bummer. At least I'm in a better state of mind nowadays.” - Feb 13, 1:40 p.m. South Congress

"Today is the first day I woke up with all my belongings consolidated around me. Last time was a brief period living in East Austin. Life is regulating and I am finding peace. A few nights ago, I began destroying and dissecting a sketchbook that came from Rumpelstiltskin last year. The sun goes down, the breeze blows, and things aren’t so bad.” - Feb 17

THE PEOPLE I HAVE KNOWN AND BEEN

Of the few times I did go out and make attempts at socializing, I was always successful at finding people, though. I’m still “falling in love” with everyone immediately. Over complementing and analyzing them to their faces. It makes for a false basis of connection and leads to immediate burn-out. I cannot process that amount of information myself, even if I can spout it out. So many seeds of friendship; some sprouted, none ever rooted into my life. I’m an emotional whore.

“In limbo, Flower called me at around six a.m. The last time we spoke I was in New Mexico, and she called because everyone in her life was in jail. I’m concerned about Flower, but there’s nothing I can do.” - Feb 18, ~9 a.m.

“I miss Lieutenant and Grant so much. They are the people I came here to find. I know it in my heart. I want to reach out again to Flea and Jane; they are also my people… I donated some things, but I pulled a few shirts from the bag that I can't let go of yet. It is strange to have so few clothes left from my past life.” - Feb 19, evening

There is a description of a hypothetical person, the same name and age as me, who has all the qualities of life I strive for. Often, the vividness of that person causes me grief, since I cannot behold her now and seem to be in constant limerence. Though I could envision what my life may look like in this new space, all I do is think about it for many months after moving in.

“I want to be a pretty girl; I want to be a pretty girl. I write so many stupid things just for the sake of writing. Still, I can't seem to get myself in a state of self-expression that is true and fills me with a sense of whimsy and potential every day. Stupid, stupid, stupid thoughts. All I should write about is how stupid I am.” - Feb 20, ~ 2p.m

“Zilker is a special place where people congregate to do all sorts of things like flow work, painting, and yoga. The sunset tonight was electric, and the skyline bursts from the horizon as if it were nature’s design. My routine and schedule are taking form, and new life seems to be rooting itself in my body and being. It's getting hot. Summer is coming.” - Feb 25, Midnight at Home

ANOTHER FAILED ATTEMPT AT GETTING SOBER

“An ounce of weed is a field to someone who doesn't plant themselves in a pot. There is no compromise of middle ground on anything to be had. I must commit to abstinence from everything for my longevity, I am only getting older. I am so ambitious that it overtakes me in all my desires.” -Feb 11, ~ 930 p.m. Home.

“I couldn't seem to get to sleep last night. My heart and mind were racing. No alcohol in the system really makes me feel way different at every point of the day. I guess today is day two.” – Feb 18, ~9 a.m.

“Back at this view in front of the big window, this time in a comfy seat. I'm asking for jobs now everywhere I go. Today is day three with no alcohol, no weed left either. Boredom is scaring me. Every moment, one thing after the next. Prepare and make plans. Life is so much easier when your space is fully taken care of.” - Feb 19, evening

“I’m sick of this internal echo chamber. I feel eternally isolated, is that the point? Sometimes I curse thee for containing me here, though I wouldn’t have it any other way, I just get weary and feel long for this world…

“The alcohol withdrawal hit me and has left a piercing memory. I will never experience that again (LOL, yeah right) …I was violently ill for several hours last night. Horrible headache like I've never had before. Shaking and sweating in my bed, I couldn't catch my breath, choking on spit in my throat. My heart throbbed in my chest like it was about to burst. Terrified and overwhelmed with anxiety, I sprung up into the shower when the thought of dying came over me. So dizzy and nauseous that eventually I threw up. It's still in the tub. Stumbling from the shower to the bed. I fell asleep with a towel on the pillow.

Inhaling and exhaling myself asleep, wondering if my soul was mine to keep. I knew life continued when the morning light greeted me again.

- February 27 2:30 p.m. At home.