I’m on strike and should be out picketing, but I’m at home with COVID for a second time and worrying about going bald. I’ve been on Propecia since 2018, and I will be until I’m lowered into the earth. I went on Propecia and Lexapro at the same time; a slow race to see which will make me not cum first. My receding hairline, my endless horror. My nightmare, and my comfort. I can depend on it to fill me with dread, and for that, I am grateful. I’m grateful for constants. I am grateful for dependable.
My low-tide hairline is my friend. My Jude Law hair. That’s what I tell myself. It’s like Jude Law! I blame it on being Irish. Irish men have Irish hairlines. I have an Irish face, too, I guess. Potato famine face. Dark circles under my eyes, down to my knees. Dark circles and a widow’s peak.
People have always told me I look older than I am. I got mid-thirties when I was in my twenties and addicted to everything and thought everyone wanted to be my friend. Like that straight man I met at an after party in Williamsburg at the apartment of some gay I never even saw, who told me he’d done sound mixing on a Beyoncé album. The morning sun got higher, and people started leaving or passing out, and the straight man and I went into the backyard and did nitrous balloons till 10 am. I thought maybe he would want to fuck me after a while, or at least hold my hand. Neither of these things happened, but you can’t fault me for hoping: I was on meth and he thought I was funny. A funny 27-year-old with an old face and an old hairline.
That was the same Saturday where, instead of sleeping, I went home and showered, then bought ice cream for no reason for a family in front of me in line at a bodega with my rent money, then I went to a book club at my friends’ house and made everyone uncomfortable by talking about Call Me By Your Name (the book) at a volume that I remember being aware was strange but couldn’t stop doing; a person shout-talking at a party held at a Marriott bar during a week-long business conference.
I left that book club early to go on a date that I forgot I had scheduled in South Brooklyn, where I pretended to eat food and then interrupted the guy to say that I needed to go home because I was on drugs and should not be dating anyone at a time like this. He was kind, and waited with me for my Uber. I never saw him again.
I didn’t sleep that night either, and listened to music and watched YouTube videos while my heart shrieked and I took selfies and overhead photos to prove to myself that I was balding. The next morning I got on New Jersey transit and went home to my parents’ house. My mom picked me up at Hamilton station, and we drove home in silence. Then she helped me to my bed and I slept for 20 hours. It was Mother’s Day and I forgot.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Your son is a crazy drug addict and turning into a mummy.
Love, me.
***
I will be back to picketing on Monday. COVID is stupid. I just filled out a DoorDash application today, but they put me on a waitlist. They won’t shake me, though. Because what they don’t know is I wait for a living. That is my job. I wait in Los Angeles. The Land of Waiting. A city of nine million wait-ers. They will marvel at my waiting.
Carey, you are my favorite comedian. My favorite writer. My favorite human being. I would drag my bare ass across a combo of glass + sticky movie theater floor (iPic? Is it iPic you guys talk about on the pod as being the harrowing theater experience I don’t remember) to view/watch/listen to your work. If you have one fan, it is me. If you have no fans, I am still dragging ass but in ghost form. Hang the f*ck in there, and f*ck Zaslav.
Good luck with the strike! I hope your union and writers in the television industry overall get the long overdue better wages and working conditions they deserve
Your Twitter gets so many around me (myself included) through our days, thank you so much. That said, some people really do seem to have forgotten that Sidney Sweeney is engaged to an heir of a pizza dynasty….😃
About baldness, it’s a bit scary at first (I started losing it - my hair - in my early twenties) but once you start shaving it off (if you choose to go this way), it’ll honestly start feeling really light, and cool even?
I hope you feel better soon!