I can’t stop thinking about this newsletter that my friend Alex wrote about a cafe that she used to go to by her old job. She talked about how this cafe, on one hand was just the setting for many mundane, seemingly forgettable everyday moments, but on the other, it was the place that “housed the breadth of who [she] was becoming before [she] became it.”
To me, this is the nature of what it means to be a “regular” somewhere – a concept which I fully embrace and romanticize in a very my-life’s-a-movie kind of way. What could be more telling than the coffee shop you go to everyday before work? Or the drink that you order? Or the pastry that you treat yourself to on difficult days?
When I lived in Long Beach, my regular spot was a coffee shop called Steelhead – not to be confused with Steelcraft (same owners), which was just five minutes down the street, I’d warn my friends before meeting me there.
Steelhead was the place I’d go to when I needed a reset or when I needed to feel seen, often before my long, lonely commute to Echo Park for work, or on slow, aimless Sunday mornings. I knew most if not all of the baristas, and would have long conversations with them about work, or music, or tattoos at the bar. They always remembered my drink order, and complimented my outfits, the highest of honors for a double Sagittarius.
While I didn’t know the other regulars by name, there was an unspoken camaraderie between us. A collective knowing expressed through head nods, and scooting over so the other person could use the wall outlet. There was the guy who wore all black, who was always working on graphic designs on his laptop. The person who always sat on the bench outside with sunglasses and a notebook. The sweaty man who always seemed to be coming in after a run. And then there was me, the girl with the headphones, scribbling in her moleskine journal (god, what I wouldn’t do to SIT in a coffee shop and JOURNAL), sipping a house coffee doused in soy milk and brown sugar, from a quintessential, red, Steelhead mug.
In Alex’s newsletter, she talked about her inability to access the space that was the cafe near her old job, 1) because it recently closed, and 2) because the only moment we can ever truly access is the present one.
Steelhead is still open. I actually visited my friend while they were working while I was back home in California a few months ago. It was interesting, but not at all shocking, to see how the pandemic had changed it. There were no people lingering around like vultures, waiting to grab a table. In fact, there were no tables at all. I talked to my friend who was working through a plastic barrier that dangled over the cash register. Still, it felt like a kind of homecoming. A familiarity, during a time when nothing is familiar at all.
I’d like to think there is a world in which the baristas at my new neighborhood coffee shop in Brooklyn eventually learn my name, and memorize my drink order. Even beyond the limitations of masks, the only-four-people-in-the-shop-at-a-time rule, and no seat by the window for me to loiter in for hours, pretending to be the main character. And if not, I think that’s okay.
Part of me actually likes the idea of having something in one place, and not having to replicate it in another. Mostly because the experiences and sense of community I had at Steelhead are, by nature, not replicable. Something about having those moments live in a space in time that I can only access in my memory makes it feel more special. Like something I can tuck away in the cover pocket of my moleskine, and stumble upon when I least expect it.
This month’s prompt is: Write about a place (any place) that you are or were a regular at, and tell me what this place means to you. Submit your responses here.
Last month’s prompt was: Scroll through your camera roll/Google photos/Instagram stories archive (your choice!), find a photo of yourself a year ago today, and tell me about who you were, what was on your mind, how you have or haven’t changed.
Here is Rose B. White’s submission:
A year ago today I was taking a trip to Cincinnati to spend thanksgiving with my boyfriends family. I was very stressed and overwhelmed by most things in my life at that time. I had a roommate who was one of my closest friends but us living together made our relationship somehow more complicated. I had just started a new job a few months prior in August, I had graduated college a few months before that. I remember feeling very nervous all the time and every time I would go into work my anxiety would spike a little bit more and more. I was the only black person working at the studio I work at, which was something I tried not to dwell on or think about too much, but it definitely affected my ability of feeling like I could make mistakes at my job. When I would come home I would put my roommates feelings before my own and the house was never clean. In both areas I spent most of my time, work and home, I didn’t have resolutions or clarity about the things I found bothersome. Instead I chose to avoid my issues, without necessarily addressing the root of the problem. Or I think I failed to realize it was even a problem at the time. I remember looking over at my boyfriend and blatantly saying “I’m depressed” then never necessarily taking steps to try and help. TODAY: I am living by myself, feeling great about it, working from home, and communicating more and more with myself(I started therapy) and being able to have open and honest conversations with the people I work with, and communicate better in my relationships. I also had a lot of physical pain back then due to the stress and anxiety that I am addressing and I feel way more equipped to handle things that come my way. Looking back it is crazy to think how much can happen in a year, let alone a few months. But I am so thankful to have gone through a phase of enduring, to teach me that I can get through and will get through dark times. And it is helpful to remember how far people can come especially during this pandemic where things sometimes feel hopeless. Sending you and anyone reading this lots of love during this enduring time <3
You can find Rose here on Instagram and here on YouTube.
〰️ NOVEMBER FAVORITES 〰️
As an ode to my past life as a YouTuber, I am going to start a monthly favorites section of this newsletter where I share anything and everything that has been my favorite during that month. Here are my favorite things from the month of November in no particular order:
This newsletter by Zeba Blay, in which she shared her thoughts on the presidential el*ction. Specifially this quote:
White supremacy wants us to dream, but not too much. White supremacy thrives off of killing our creativity, our ability to imagine new worlds and open new portals. White supremacy trades in symbolic gestures rather than concrete change. It wants us to dream about a Black woman in the White House but it doesn’t want us to dream about a Black woman dismantling everything that the White House stands for. It wants us to dream about having a seat at some proverbial table, a white imperialist table, but it doesn’t want us to dream about abolishing the table altogether.
I’m not trying to shit on this current moment, or take away from anyone’s excitement or relief, because that’s real, and to a certain extent I feel a release, too. But the world and the institutions and systems we’ve been encouraged to put faith in are not working, period. I am asking us - myself included - to use this moment not as an excuse to fall back into a sense of complacency, but consider what refocusing this energy into a more expansive idea of the future actually looks and more importantly feels like.
Jin Kim’s new song ‘Feel Okay’
Grand Army on Netflix … We love an high school drama, ensemble cast moment!
Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid – An absolute page-flipper about a young Black woman who babysits for a white family.
My new rug from MUSH Studios <3
Until next month! 👋
Best,
Celeste
Love this