this isn’t nostalgia, it's inheritance

Sometimes you get a camera in the mail and it makes you ugly cry

I knew that when I ordered a Fujifilm digital camera two weeks ago that I had chosen it for 1. The intersection of its capabilities and price point, 2. The aesthetic. It looks exactly like the SLR cameras I used growing up—textured black body, silver accents, silver lens (plus a black one).

It wasn’t until I opened the package, pulled out the camera body, and held the heft of it in my hands that I realized in the most visceral way: this isn’t a nostalgic moment—it’s an inheritance moment. I chose this camera because it embodies my dad. Because it feels like doing something adjacent to what he might’ve wanted to do, minus the alcohol and hard drugs. It was a flood of remembering how talented and creative and brilliant he was—and how sometimes a mind and body on fire can also burn itself down.

And so I bawled. It didn’t last long but it was deep and my husband held my body heave while I held the camera body and that was that.

I’m not an influencer you’re an influencer

How about that for an opening? I maybe had to put on my sunglasses while writing that last bit at the coffee shop. You know, because it’s “too bright” in here. lol

OK, so the rest of this newsletter is going to focus on some takeaways. And because I love love love a good list, they’re going to be in list form. Here we go.

Things that happened and/or that I learned before and during the PDXPMFVT (since technically I’m still here and still processing, I won’t get into any postmortem until next week (note: postmortems denote failure; while there were some things I failed at or that failed because shit happens, it wasn’t a failure).

1. You always need more time than you think. As someone who is perpetually rushing to get shit done, get to places without a minute to spare (or five minutes late), I’m pretty sure I should just make this maxim my next tattoo. If there were any forearm real estate left, I’d use it. Neck tat it is.

   For this trip specifically, this takeaway mostly stems from fact that you can’t do a week’s worth of work, coordinate a giveaway, and plan a 5-day research trip in three days and expect it to not feel stressful. You will also end up planning the 5-day research trip the first real night you’re on said trip. It will take three hours.

2. Please don’t call me an influencer. Tastemaker, maybe? But I’ve yet to determine if that feels equally cringe or not. No shade on influencers, I just have no desire to either be one or be perceived as one. I arrived in Portland Thursday night, went to a hip hop class, and had phở with a good friend. Friday morning I did a photo/video shoot at a sauna built by some lady and her 75-year-old dad in her backyard. Very cool. Very lovely. You can rent the whole sauna, cold plunge, hot tub scene here.

   The lady called me an influencer. It was a small moment, but it clarified something important for me about how I want inOregon to exist—and how I don’t. I shuddered on the inside and asked how long I had, 60 or 90 minutes.

   Based on how she talked about the recent success of her backyard sauna, it was clear that—even though she said she wasn’t one—she wouldn’t mind inadvertently becoming an influencer. (I get it! Attention and self-affirming feedback loops can be intoxicating!)

   

   🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

   While I actually do love being on camera and performing and expressing in public, influencer mode is a hard pass for me. Pretty much all of inOregon’s content is headless, and I want to keep it that way. For this shoot I kept it headless, but I had to be in the shots. Otherwise it would just be an empty sauna and a tub with water in it in a random backyard. I tell you, shooting this for 1.5 hours was nice and I did get to feel the benefits of the sauna/cold plunge, but the following note really sums up influencing (hint: NOT FUN).

3. If there’s one thing being a poet has taught me it’s that structure and containers are where the magic happens. The remainder of Friday I felt the following things: frustrated, a little scattered, wtf am I doing, tired (saunas will do that). I knew that planning out the weekend’s shop visits and route efficiencies, as well as a rough schedule would be the antidote to most if not all of the things I was feeling. So that’s what I did. Here’s one of five pages that Chat and I came up with over the course of several hours.

   

   just looking at this makes me breathe more deeply

   I’m a fan of the random, of serendipity, of jumping off the fucking cliff and figuring it the fuck out on the way down. My mind often operates like a game of laser tag at the local mall on a Friday night—strategic and precise but also hundreds of colored light beams pinging everywhere. Thank Satan I’ve come to know that planning, organization, and structure are a balm for me They hone and steady, reduce anxiety, and allow me to become a single beam of bright, concentrated light.

OK so there are a bunch more takeaways and some cool shit to share from the PDX tour, but because this newsletter already feels too long and I want you to stay with me, I’m going to spread them across the next few issues.

PS: Subscribe now if you're into this messy build-in-public energy. Miss the last issue? It’s right here. Also literally none of this is ever advice. I’m sharing what I learn through Babe, and perhaps you’ll learn from my mistakes. Hopefully, maybe, who knows, ily.