I feel like I’m awakening my 2014 self from her Tumblr slumber. I’ve got to be careful, else I’ll start posting pictures of cigarettes in sinks and feigning depression because Lana makes it so beautiful. I spent hours last night customizing my Substack page and it brought me back to the late late school nights I taught myself amateur code so I could make the cursor on my blog leave a trail of sparkles just so. Unfortunately, Substack doesn’t allow for cursor sparkles.
What is this place?
Think of this as my writer’s journal. It’s a collection of life updates, musings on everything from nihilism to collectivism, my writing process, bits of research, story fragments, book reviews and rants, observations.
And so on.
I imagine it’ll be messy, as most writer’s journals are.
I’m Daphne
I probably should have said that earlier. It’s a bad habit I have in real life, too—I’ll run off into a conversation without ever having introduced myself.
I’m a writer, of course. I was a closet writer in high school only to stop in college when theater became my priority, but thankfully I picked it up again once I graduated. I don’t know how I survived those years without it.
I’m also an actress. Acting was my first love, and I don’t know if I’ll ever give it up. Recently, I did drag for the first time when I played Yitzhak in a production of Hedwig. I’ll talk about that another time.
I’m an artist; I like that best. I’ve always tended towards acts of creation—storytelling, sewing, potion-making, you name it. I may not believe in God anymore, but if there’s one truth I know it’s that the universe created us and it’s in our nature to create in turn.
What I write
I write about girlhood and gayhood—the glamour, grit, guilt, and joy of queer life. I write about New Orleans. I write about death because I have a preoccupation with it. I write about God because I’m still angry with him.
My main project is my novel: The Queer Kid. It’s a tell-all by Oliver Day, the disgraced bassist of the infamous 1970s rock band, King Yellow. It’s got everything: rockstar excess, hidden lovers, drugs, and the scandal ruined it all. (New York’s hottest club is…)
Right now I’m working on the third draft. Don’t ask me how many drafts there will be. I don’t want to think about it. Once it’s done and with my readers, I’ll be writing all the songs that are featured in the book. I decided that I want to make a companion album to be released alongside the book, and now I’m determined to make it happen.
I hope you dig it
In the 70s, my grandfather went to a Grateful Dead concert where a man stood at the entrance with a punch bowl of acid-laced Kool-Aid raised above his head, bellowing out, “Drink if you’re real.” He did. What followed was undoubtedly a fun time.
So… Subscribe if you’re real.
Talk to you next time!
Daphne