step it up
When things are bad, be a baddie.
Things are bad. Everything is so expensive. Nothing online is even real. Around the world, the leopards are eating our faces. The backslide is an avalanche. If we make too much fuss, we could end up buried.
I’ve made two new year’s resolutions in my life that really stuck.
In my senior year of high school, I resolved to stop drinking Diet Coke. I had been drinking at least five or six a day, and I went cold turkey. For months, I didn’t have any soda at all. That thawed in college when a shirtless frat boy mixed me a Cuba Libre in a red solo cup, but it’s never since been something I’ve craved (soda, I mean, not shirtless frat boys).
During college, I developed an intense notification anxiety. The only thing that stressed me out more than unread emails was reading emails and replying to emails. For months, I put off typing up and sending out a few simple sentences. I fumbled professional connections. I soured on social media. I ignored texts. So during my senior year of college, I resolved to go inbox zero. I turned off notifications on most apps, and started to aggressively address the notifications that mattered.
This is the healthiest habit I’ve ever built. I became much more responsive, a better colleague and a better friend. I still try to keep my email inboxes completely clear, writing replies and moving emails into folders as soon as possible. I do the same with app notifications. When my home screen has no red alerts, I’m at peace. I’m not perfect. I still procrastinate. I get busy. But five years later, this resolution has stuck.
My resolution this year is more nebulous — step it up. I want to do better. I want to do more. This is totally in spite of the totalitarian badness. If the leopards come for me, let me serve face, spit fire and slay. When things are bad, be a baddie.
I know this is cheating. An immeasurable goal. Sure, I can talk numbers. I want to read 100 books. I want to write 100,000 words. I want 250 rejections (1,000 is too many, I can’t keep that pace). Sure, I can also set qualitative goals. Here’s a big one — I want to start querying my novel manuscript. But there are other goals which can’t be so easily sharpened. I want to cook new recipes. I want to hang out more, but spend less money doing it. I want to learn about castles and bears and trees and queer history. I want to stretch. I want to listen to more albums. These are some goals nestled under the umbrella of step it up.
Someone told me recently that my newsletter makes for good reading, but that I need to think bigger. I’m open to ideas, but I’m gonna hold steady. I’m happy with my biweekly pace. I like the focus on queerness and the freedom to blend in personal stuff and silly fluff. Others have suggested building the Fslur brand — a podcast and a literary magazine have been mentioned, among other possibilities. I’m not in a rush. Fslur is a lifelong project. I’m a lifelong fslur. You can’t escape. If you unsubscribe, I’ll know. Meanwhile, if you have thoughts about how I can step it up here, please pile on.
(Sidenote, my zine is out, and many copies are already in the world. You may get yours soon. Thank you to everyone who asked me for one. If you haven’t yet, please do! I’d love to send you one.)
Some things are bad. But some things are good. We have Heated Rivalry (more on this later, I promise). Beyoncé seems likely to drop her rock opera this spring, and there are even whispers about R9. We’re seeing signs of life from the Don’t Let Leopards Eat Our Faces party. We can still make friends, cocktails and real human art. Together, we’ll make it through 2026. We’ll grow. We might even thrive. We can resolve to help each other step it up.
Thanks for reading! Do you have thoughts? Do you know someone else who might? Please pass me around, and don’t hesitate to hit me up with comments, questions and fresh ideas. Catch you next time!
FSLUR READING REC
The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny by Kiran Desai
After the Booker buzz, I went in with high expectations, and The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny absolutely delivers. From the first pages, the language of the novel flows so smoothly, the spaces feels so vibrant and the characters so textured. This is far from a romance — Sonia and Sunny don’t even meet until around page 250. But it’s not a slow burn either — the whole novel feels brisk and alive, like a current moving along with a steady but irresistible gravity, touching on a world of themes. India is lovingly drawn but not romanticized, with many visions of what India is and could be intertwined. America is similarly considered with care. Identity and belonging, race and class and gender and power, growing up, growing old, death and love and, of course, loneliness. These are just some of the big ideas coursing through the pages. It’s the type of book that demands to be savored and studied, that comes with a universal recommendation, the easy assertion that everyone should read this.