Winter came early and I cant stop thinking about 2018

There is so much snow on the ground.

All I can think about is being 16. Although I don't remember being necessarily happy back then, there is something about it I just can't seem to shake.

I was a sophomore in high school who wore too much mascara and filled in my eyebrows with Anastasia Dip Brow. It was kind of awesome for what it was.

I think about the friends I had, and where they are now. All of the people who weren't able to make it out of that barred-out town, who are still God knows where doing meth and DMing me on Instagram when they get fucked up.

I have this subtle heartache in the back of my mind lately. An ache for the fact that I was able to subsequently get out and somehow others weren't. And to be clear, I grew up in an affluent town in an affluent county just 30 minutes from the 3rd largest city in the country. There is nothing tragic about my life or the lives of these people I cry about. The tragedy is merely abstract, and I'm still not entirely convinced it's not just all in my head.

I will never forget befriending the new kid in 7th grade after he complimented my Adidas Superstars when the popular kids were bullying me, asking why I wore my bowling shoes to school (lowkey they were right for that). Anyway, this new kid—he told me about how much he hated school and how he was going to drop out of high school so he could be an artist. I was so scared of authority back then that I told him that he needed to graduate at least so that he wouldn't get in trouble. So cute of little 12-year-old me.

Anyway, after years of high school and falling in and out of lust and friendship with this new boy, I ended up graduating high school early. He was one of the only people who believed that I would actually do it. And when I got my first apartment my sophomore year of college, he came over for a party we were having. We sat in my bedroom while an art school house party screamed on in the background, and he looked at me like I held the moon. He reminded me of that moment back in 7th grade and acknowledged the irony of me being the one to leave high school early. He told me how proud he was of me. I had gotten everything 16-year-old me had ever wanted but never knew how to put into words.

I have no clue where he is now. Last I heard, tweaking out somewhere in the burbs. My heart aches for what he could've been. Strangely though, I don't think it aches for the version of him that exists now, or because I necessarily want him in my life, but it aches for the new kid in 7th grade music class who was nice to me when I needed a friend. To the 16-year-old boy that worked at the local ice cream shop and would bring pints of my favorite flavor to my house in the middle of the night after his shift. To the 18-year-old boy who damn near cried for me when he saw the life I had made for myself when I finally "got out."

He deserved to make it out as well, and if not physically, then he should've at least been able to live his dreams too.

I wonder if it is just a symptom of the place, part of the drill. Some people "get lucky" and others stay back and do kratom. I figure my "luck" wasn't even my own doing either. I accredit everything I am to the mentors that allowed me to see myself beyond the age of 16.

I'm revisiting this now in May. I now know how severely I was going through it. But I stand on my word.

I know that the experiences of me and the new boy are not unique, and there are a million other versions of him and I across the world, living in similar realities, both at 23 and 16. I refuse to chalk it up to "America under capitalism" or "the ups and downs of youth" because that is too systematically biblical. I really do hope that he is okay wherever he is. He might even read this. And if he is, I'm sorry, both for airing you out and for whatever you are going through.

Happy New Year

Hi Blog, 

Its been so long and I would say I'm sorry but I'm not sure if I am. 

Its 2026 and that means it is time for my annual list of things for the year 

 But first it is vital to show those who came before us: here is 2025. 

2025

Credit Card Point Monster 

Prosecco 

Rogue Cities (Birmingham AL, Milwaukee WI, Louisville, KY, Rockford, IL, Sioux Falls, SD)

Engagement Ring 

No Piercings Just Scars  

Big Symbols 

No Exaggerated Proportions on Shoes 

Embracing Neuroticism 

Computer Hacker Men

Epcot Drinking Around The World 

Lawyers

Meet God 

New England 

Fall in Love through Fluoride Stare

Fermented Foods 

Right Sides Together 

Supplement Obsession 

Mixed Metals Tastefully 

Steak 

Becoming Trad AF 

Big Men Carrying Large Furniture 

I would like to say, I was a fucking genius in January. I had no clue what I was in for when I wrote this yet I ended up catching the vibe I designed for myself. Without having anything planned i ended up doing a lot of these things in 2025 which is funny considering the list is generally supposed to be satirical. anyway Im thankful for the past year as I have found myself living the dream I didnt yet know I had. From the looks of it 2026 is set to do the same thing. All I can do at this point is live it and hope for the best. 

2026

Canned Food for the taste but also poverty 

PBR in fridge always 

Capris for function 

Bluetooth Speaker in Backpack 

No more lamps 

Bronze 

Ana Mendieta 

Online Sex 

Oxidation 

Consuming Media even if you hate it (Books and Music Only) 

Reading the same book 4 times

Shoulders 

To Be Weaponized 

Preventative Healthcare 

Awesome Neighbors (Mathew 22:39)

One Tree Hill 

Unionizing 

1 Playlist every 4 months 

Doing pullups on everything 

Learning Everything about Freight Trains (go for a ride?) 

Crash by J.G Ballard 

Engagements 

Bruised and Battered 

Love Friends like Family and Love Strangers even more 

Eat the same thing everyday but not because of meal prep 

Viral 

Tchaikovsky 

I think this is it for now. I hope that the new year brings everyone joy and love and lust and everything that feels like glitter. The year of the flaming horse makes me laugh. Hopefully I can ride one this year. Ill at least feed one or two. 

Midwestern World Tour

Felt the love of the Midwest 

We left Chicago at 6 p.m. on a Friday night with plans to make the eight-hour drive to Vermillion, South Dakota. After hundreds of miles down the desolate highways of northern Illinois, we paid a visit to the I-80 World’s Largest Truck Stop. After being served a soup bowl filled with BBQ sauce and reflecting on all the summers I spent at this truck stop as a child, we decided we would not be making it another five hours to South Dakota. We fell asleep in a Quality Inn in Des Moines, Iowa. It felt like something really bad should’ve happened to us there, but there was something kind of comforting about it.

Made it to Vermillion for Little Pour on the Prairie and had the most beautiful time casting iron. It’s the people in this community that embody Midwestern love. I spent years declaring questionable drinking habits and football games as the great pillars of the Midwestern nightmare. I’ve now realized I don’t need to love the Midwest satirically or because it feels like a proper diagnosis. I love it because its people love it without irony. It was always there, but now it feels like a kind of faith I accidentally inherited- a peaceful, absurd hope that keeps this region and its people alive.

The morning after the pour, we were meant to continue our Midwestern tour to Wyoming (which is not in the Midwest, I know, but humor me). After a night of drinking Fireball (scared) and (#?) Modelos over a bonfire that I later found out had a couch in it, we decided to stay for the day. The plan was to swim in the Missouri River and punch fish. Swim we did- fish punching didn’t happen, but that’s probably for the better since some of yall like to go PETA on me. 

We left Vermillion at sunset, soaking wet, covered in river sediment, with a Modelo box filled with clay foraged from the riverbed. The goal was to make it another 8.5-hour drive to north-central Wyoming. We very quickly realized that was not happening and booked a hotel in Rapid City. The Foothills Inn became home that night. Payton fell asleep fully clothed with her sunglasses on.
I know I just spent the past three paragraphs hyping up the Midwest, but I would not wish going 90 mph down I-90 at 3 a.m. on my worst enemy. Truly a haunting drive. But that’s what being 22 is all about, or at least that’s how I justify it.
Anyway, 10/10 for the Foothills Inn: the bathtub was baby blue, and the view of the Black Hills from the room was beautifully garnished with a massive parking lot in the foreground. The maid did try to break into our room well before checkout, but I’ll forgive her, the vibe was unbeatable otherwise.

We finally made it to Wyoming and had the most peaceful three days. Spent every night sitting out with my grandparents, hoping to see the stars, just for clouds to roll in after the moonrise. But it’s okay, all that matters to me is sitting on that porch with my grandparents just as I have my entire life. It is a blessing to not hear anything at all. We harvested wild sage from the top of the mountain to bring home; it conveniently covered the smell of the river clay that sat soaking through the Modelo box in the trunk.

Wyoming wasn’t the last stop on our Midwestern world tour. We left Wyoming at 6 a.m. to drive to Decorah, Iowa, to stay on a friend and mentor, Kelly Ludeking’s, family farm. This time we actually planned for our treacherous drive — made it in a clean fifteen hours. We even bought a vape in Minnesota after spending a perfectly timed 30-minute break in Wall, South Dakota, at Wall Drug to buy a rabbit pelt, bobcat tail, fudge, and seven sticks of palo santo.

Anyway — the farm.
That place is truly an upside-down world in the best way possible.
Kelly and Diane Ludeking have been hosting an annual iron pour on their farm for the past 20 years. Now they’re looking to transform the farm Kelly grew up on into a residency of sorts, an oasis for artists to create their work, with the American heartland as their backdrop.

We got to town and went straight to the dive bar (duh). Within an hour, it felt like we’d met half the town. The brewmaster from the local brewery was there with the woman who owns the pie shop... like something out of make-believe Disney movie. Played pool and lost, but it’s okay- I’ll win one day.
It’s the thing about the Midwest that keeps me here: people don’t need to know you long to treat you like family, even if that means distant cousin. They’ll give you a tutorial on how to beat someone up, file your taxes, and designate themselves the driver (while still drinking) in a single sentence. I forget that kind of care still exists until I’m in a dive bar with it again.

The next few days, we went around town, met the rest of the people we missed at the bar the night before. It was like Kirk in Gilmore Girls... everyone seemed to work at every establishment and knew exactly what everyone was up to. Small-town omniscience.

One afternoon, Kelly took us to meet a friend, an artist in his sixties whose entire life’s work lives in his yard. Ten-foot sculptures rusting back into the grass. He showed us his book collection and said the only rule was that every book had to teach you something, regardless of whether he agreed with the content. It’s the same reason I consume the media I do, what’s the point of consuming things you already agree with? If I wanted to feed my ego, Id consider myself a political activist. 

The next morning, in the barn, we were 20 feet up on the scaffolding, handing boards to Kelly, suspended another 10 feet above us from a harness, screwing the boards to the barn’s frame.

That shit did not feel like real life. I never thought I’d be able to do something like this- not only literally, but to work on something that is so significant in someone’s history. It’s easy to forget that these places still exist beyond the backdrop of a cross-country road trip. That there are people fighting to keep their family farms, to hold onto the land that raised them.

 It’s the people who keep showing up, who fix what breaks, who stay even when it’s easier to leave.

The American family farm is dying. You can feel it in the silence of these towns, in the empty barns collapsing a little more with every season, in the kids who move away and never come back- or worse, the ones who never leave. The Midwest isn’t disappearing; it’s eroding. A quiet extinction.

Kelly and Diane are preventing that, and I’m forever grateful that I get to help them.

They’re proof that something still matters out here.

The Midwest never fails to survive, because that’s what love looks like here. It’s slow, hard, dirty work. Sometimes it feels like the apocalypse, but that’s more reason to find utopias within it. They’re all around; you just have to be willing to work to keep them alive long enough to find.

Im finishing this post as Payton and I drive back to Decorah to help with the barn for the weekend. 

Lucky to be midwestern. Lucky to have this community around me. 

With Love FAME 

PS 

Check out Kelly, Diane and the Barn 

https://downonthefarmironpour.com/legacy-program

It's Pride Month but No It Isn't

 

2025 is the year of rainbow tie dye. I spent the past 3 years trying to remove all of the color from my wardrobe and I have finally reached a point of embarrassment. I'm so sorry to everyone who had to witness my 3 year long depressive stunt. I'm back I promise. 

I finally bought my dream beater truck. 2011 ford ranger with crank windows. It doesn't have ac but what beater does? 

I'm writing this from my phone on Frances' couch. Chicago is in a heat wave and I've never felt more beautiful- my hair is curly again and the sun hurts. I found my favorite bikini bottoms in my mom's crawl space and everything is right with the world.  Today has been beautiful and it's only 4pm.  Tanned for just about 5 minutes before it felt like self harm and went inside. Gonna go to a day party and pretend like it's 2022 and I'm 19 again. 

It is the summer of success and getting ripped in the process and my haters got ugly. Life is awesome when you get rid of the people that hate you for not being as insecure as them. 

Thankful to have found beauty in life 

I hope everyone gets a good sexy sunburn this summer 

With love FAME

Summer is Here, Chicago is Cold, My Heart is on Fire

Summer is beginning. It's a Sunday afternoon and I'm still in bed. The Weather is Lying. Time feels Elastic.

It's 50 degrees in Chicago and that sucks so bad, but honestly I'm pretending like it's fall.

I'm not sure if I want to pretend it's fall, but emotionally things are feeling very September — not in the best way, but it's okay... June is coming.

I have many goals this summer and I'm not yet sure how to accomplish them, as I seem to have already booked out just about every single day until the second week of October. But I can't be bothered to genuinely be worried — I've done it to myself.

Everyone keeps hitting me up asking if I'll be in Chicago this summer. I know I have a habit of vanishing every summer — but y'all forget that's when I was living on student loans and online fetish money. I'm all grown up now. My student loan repayment is in forbearance and I work 3 jobs which take up all 7 days of the week.

I gave myself what seems to be a cold that has been coming and going since March, but I'm now considering the possibility of allergies. To be real, I would be truly so embarrassed if I had to tell people, "Oh yeah, I have *seasonal allergies*..." Lord help me, please.

On second thought, it could also be my long-overdue popcorn lung.

Anyway- 

When I mention my 3 jobs, I don’t want to complain. Well, I'll complain about one because holy fuck — but the other two are wonderful. I come home covered in dirt every day and I've never been happier. All I need now is a car and I will start levitating.

I have seen so many of my close friends transform over the past year and I am truly so happy to see the evolution of everyone. 2025 has surprisingly been blessing everyone for no reason. I'll leave it at that — I wouldn't want to jinx all the lovely things happening.

Speaking of, my childhood dog named Jinx died. I never thought I would be happy to see the dog I got in the first grade die, but truly that beast needed to cross the rainbow bridge. He was more cystic growth than dog toward the end.

The real tragedy comes with the situation his death has caused. My other dog, Bodhi (short for Bodhisattva, which means "the enlightened one"), is now so depressed by Jinx's death that he has been on a full PETA-style hunger strike. He looks like a Halloween decoration. I found that he enjoys Culver's french fries though, so maybe he will become normal again. I was hoping for a lot of hilarious things in 2025, but Pro-Ana English Pointer was not on the list.

I need to get back into online sex work — it made me awesome. And it afforded me ways to finance a bleach and tone whenever I wanted. I guess if you're reading this and want me to be blonde as fuck again and stop looking recession-affected and homely, hit me up. It's such a sad reality being poor, but also so sexy when I'm blonde as fuck.

There are so many exciting things happening in life right now. I truly have found so many things that bring me joy and fulfill me creatively and physically. All I need now is a way to get rich while doing it. But honestly, I'm not sure with just me by my side I will ever find the fiscal success I dream of. I may need a man in finance to come in and fix me.

Feeling so blessed that I live in a world where I can sit and write this blog from my Humboldt Park apartment in Chicago, laying naked in bed thinking about ways to become more awesome. I am the American Dream. I don’t give a fuck.

I'm wearing yesterday’s eyeliner, and Friday’s mascara... Call me sick, but I truly believe it is a blessing I'm able to be like this with no repercussions.

I pray for the women that feel the need to write esoteric poetry about the men that don’t want them. I hope you all are having an awesome day, but please stop writing the poetry — or at the very least, stop putting it online. It’s not worth it, baby.

That probably came off as misogynistic, and maybe it was. I'm not yet sure.

To make it even, I’ll say something misandrist:

Happy Memorial Day weekend — I'm going to spend the holiday pulling weeds. Might say fuck it and finally buy the gun I want. Tomorrow, rural IL is my oyster.

With Love, FAME 

Back in Chicago...

Expressway Interchange, Chicago, IL. Feb 3 2025

So happy to be back in Chicago where the sky is gray and foggy. Where things are so simple yet somehow feel so complicated that the vomiting issue from fall of 2024 comes back. My landlord is missing. Im listening to Life Without Buildings again. I finally got around to hanging up the lantern above my bed again. Feeling peaceful. Today Bennett and I got coffee in the financial district downtown just to complain about how bleak and devoid that area of Chicago feels. I organized my finances and thought about how blessed I am to not be stupidly rich like the people Ive surrounded myself with. I truly am so happy that I get to struggle and learn about money and thankful to love being transparent about it. I feel bad for those whose only concern about money is who is going to invest their inheritance. LOL sorry I really don’t give a fuck yall are boring. 

Thankful for my Cheekbones in 2025

Thankful for the Gun Range 

Thankful for STD Testing 

Thankful for My Mentor still being in Chicago right now 

I found the last paper I wrote for a college class today. Its about Apocalypse and Utopias with an analysis of an essay by Adorno. I might publish it on here for fun since I personally have no memory of writing it. August was weird. I don't remember much of it at all to be so honest. Except for this one moment I was walking to work and got a text that made me want to blow everything up. Maybe that was the cause for my memory loss. Only god will know. Either way, I just read the essay for what feels like the first time and it doesn’t even sound like my voice. I truly didn’t know I could forget things that I created like that. First time for everything I guess. 

Im going to continue cleaning my apartment and think about ways to become more awesome in 2025. 

Stay Beautiful 

FAME 

25 things FAME HURTS cant live without

Happy New Year to Chicago and the rest of the world. I spent the new year in New York in the pouring rain. Shoutout New York I had a more favorable time compared to all the other time I've spent there- but then I got deathly ill so maybe that New York state of mind isn't for me. Now I'm in Berlin and slowly but surely finding my way back into a peaceful mind. I have hope that 2025 will be a good year, Ive got a pretty decent feeling thus far. Practicing gratitude and performing intellegence. 

After the 2025 Ins and Outs I figured now would be the best time to list off 25 things I cant live without 

in no particular order...

1. Bloody Mary Adjacent Drank

2. Nepo Babies 

3. Being Silly on Instagram 

4. Maldon Sea Salt. Eat it straight out of the bag. I keep a box of that shit next to my bed. 

5. Locking In and Killin Em 

6. Wishing I could still Smoke Weed

7. Stomping my feet and throwing my arms down pretending to have a tantrum

8. FOCUS House Music for ADHD: playlists 

9.  Kim Kardashian's BBL. I think about it a lot. I wrote about 4 essays over my final two years of college about the Kim K phenomenon. I think she's perfect. 

10. My Special Sparkle

11. Growling back when the dishwasher makes a noise 

12. Violence 

13.  Bennett. We have been best friends since we was 8 or 9 years old. When we were in fourth grade a girl in our class pretended to kill herself and when the school found out she claimed that we told her to do it. Thats the type of friendship we have I guess. She also taught me how to read out loud around the same time that year. We live together now. Very wholesome shit. I miss her a lot now that Im in Berlin. 

14. The 20 year old ziplock bag of Jolly Ranchers my grandmother carries around with her. 

15. The point in time when I was really into seeing how many times I could punch myself in the face before my nose bled. Also that time a twink from oak park broke my nose(on accident... I'm no bitch). 

16. My ability to stay angry forever

17.  Acting Homophobic 

18.  Black G-Fazos

19.  Eating a Hotdog at a White Sox Game 

20.  Sexting British People 

21. One good keg stand a year 

22. When my lungs make that death rattle sound

23. Having that one sexy hangover every once in a while that makes the world feel like rainbows 

24.  Thirst Trapping for God 

25. Gratitude