i am silver and exact

2024: a play in 12 acts

I had a dream that Lana del Rey’s Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard was about a group of spiders spinning a tunnel of silk underground. I saw a woman dancing through the dark while these dew-dropped widows spun their webs. I have very vivid dreams most nights, but I’ve never quite reached psychic-message-from-a-pop-star territory until now. In most of my dreams I’m watching as an outside viewer. Looking as a scene unfolds before me, and peeking through a curtain I wasn’t meant to find.

As the dancing woman disappeared into the dark I was suddenly aware of my body. I look down at my hands— yes, I’m dreaming. I’m in the dream. I’m in the same white nightdress she was wearing. The kind you can only find either in the $5 bin at Goodwill or in a Reformation ad. I start singing “How to Disappear” (notably from Norman Fucking Rockwell and not Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard, but a dream has dream logic after all). I started at the end of the song.

.・゜゜・✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Now it's been years since I left New York
I've got a kid and two cats in the yard
The California sun and the movie stars
I watch the skies getting light as I write, as I
Think about those years
As I whisper in your ear

I'm always going to be right here
No one's going anywhere

. ⋅ ♡ ‧ ₊ ˚ 〰. . ・゜ ゜ ・

I awoke feeling strange to be in my apartment. Yes, this is my apartment. These are my earthly possessions. My cat is stretched out across my legs. It smells like early morning rain. Sometimes I wonder which part of our consciousness belongs to us more: Is it the version of you that goes out into the world and buys coffee to justify a morning commute, or is it the shadow-sided idea of you that flies in the moonlight and scrambles your day into digestible music videos?

This April I want to come to terms with the idea of identity. Why do we put so much value in the opinions of strangers, especially the negative opinions of strangers, and why do I still feel like I haven’t mastered myself? I’m considering what it means to truly know someone. To be known is to be loved certainly. And to be loved is to be witnessed— seen by something outside of yourself. Reflected back in someone’s light. Being sent a song that someone knows you’ll like. Texting them a picture of your lunch simply because you want them to see your lunch. Am I my own or the people I belong to?

I want to find out how to see myself clearer in these terms, and I think the answer lies in a few places. Somewhere between dreams, reality, and the inner child we’re all dying to please.

April: Reflection

Creating poetry, blurring lines, recognizing vices

• Keep a journal nearby for thought spiraling. This is useful for both the positive and negative types of thought spirals. You don’t have to do ‘Morning Pages’, you don’t need a daily goal, you just have to give yourself the option. I hate being told what to do, but I love getting suggestions.

• Excavate your dreams. Eagle-eyed readers of keepsake (should we call ourselves keepsakers? keepers? Sound off in the comments.) will notice I included dream journaling in last month’s newsletter. I believe there can never be enough attention to the dream world, and I want to continue not only logging my dreams but looking up the symbolism and getting to the heart of what my shadow-side is trying to say.

• Don’t be afraid of friction. Sometimes I hold back my true feelings by saying what I assume others want to hear from me. I fear taking up too much space in the room. There is no award for most palatable girl at God’s pearly gates, so enough is enough with the people pleasing.

• Show all your cards. Laugh louder, love messier, be as transparent as you can with the people who deserve it. When you leave your self-consciousness at the door you open yourself up to deeper and more fulfilling connections.

✩ Look in the mirror and say three things you like about yourself. Ignore that it feels silly and try it again the next day.

✩ Seek a spiritual release. It could be a past life meditation, a tarot reading, or even just The Cut’s weekly horoscope predictions.

✩ Make art. Make art that you never show anyone. Make art that you spend 2 minutes on, and make art that takes all day.

I wish I could say March was as clear headed as I intend April to be. I spent the first half of the month so sick I could barely enjoy watching tv. I managed to get there though, and tore through the early 2000s catalogue starting with Uptown Girls. Friend of keepsake Kai-Lin Wei dives deeper into identity and girlhood through the lens of the film in her piece Getting Off The Ride if you’re interested in more Brittany Murphy/Dakota Fanning reflections.

Once I got better I managed to see my favorites The Kooks and The Vaccines at Terminal 5. If you’re a 2010s Tumblr girl who was obsessed with British pop culture you had to be there. I made a little playlist of my favorite throwback Indie Brit Rock for those wanting to catch the vibe.

⊹₊ march favorites ₊ ⊹

In addition to the show at Terminal 5 I went back to the Bell House for an hour of improv with Josh Sharp and Aaron Jackson (Dicks: The Musical) plus special guest Bowen Yang (SNL, Wicked, Las Culturistas Podcast). I have never laughed harder at something so delightfully stupid. Another thing that revived me from my slump was Dune 2. If Dune 1 was kind of sleepy but still piqued your interest this is your sign to go see the sequel. I might need to read the book now… In fact I might need to print out a poster of Austin Butler in that weird little bald cap and tape it to the inside of my closet. 10/10 performances.

I wish that I read more this month, but instead I’m about halfway through two books. The Rachel Incident is a brilliantly funny novel by Caroline O’Donoghue that outlines the love, life, and mess of two friends in Ireland. Reading this feels like finding your own diary from years ago, and I am personally ordering it for a limited series. I’m also reading One Day by David Nicholls after devouring the limited series on Netflix. Yes I saw the Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess version back in 2011, but they are no match for the crackling chemistry of Leo Woodall and Ambika Mod. Reading the book has been such a great way to relive the magic of watching the show, and I think Dexter Mayhew may be one of my favorite characters of all time.

Another nice thing I did for myself this March is get a facial. I’ve been having such a time with my sensitive skin all winter, and it was so rewarding to go in for a little spring cleaning at Glowbar. I’ve been going for years now, and I highly recommend checking them out if you’re near any of their locations. These 30 minute facials are super targeted and effective all at a reasonable price and oh my goodness— it just got even more reasonable— you can use code KEEPSAKE10 for $10 off your first facial. (!!!) I’ve been very careful with my skin for the past few months, and this was the perfect indulgence. If you’re looking for some sensitive skin friendly products I have my current routine listed here.

I hope your March was lovely and your April brings all sorts of wonderful surprises. See you in the next newsletter 🫶🏼

xo,

Julianna

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒

Mirror by Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.