Berfrois

Intellectual Jousting in the Republic of Letters

After a pretty painful breakup one year, I found myself in bed for what felt like the fifth consecutive day in a row, playing Lauryn Hill’s MTV Unplugged No. 2.0 “I Gotta Find Peace of Mind” on YouTube and eating frosting with a teaspoon directly out of the tub container. I am not sure where I had procured this frosting, or when, really, but when I had discovered it in my pantry, I knew that it was just going to be me and the darling Betty Crocker in a Sapphic spooning from then until eternity — to be honest, I had arrived at a place where I was pretty cool with that. At a certain point in my general depths of distracted despair, I dropped the tub. It promptly rolled across the room on its side, coming to a rest against my dresser. Instead of getting up and walking over to retrieve it, I, in my breakup-and-sugar-saturated state of mind, decided to reach for it. The task was Sisyphean, as it was unmistakably out of reach and there was no hope of getting it back with ease. This of course resulted in my rolling off the side of my bed in a disastrous choreography that ultimately culminated in my landing awkwardly on top of my own foot. I broke my toe that evening, but it didn’t matter: Lauryn Hill played on, and I lay on my back and called Betty Crocker’s name aloud with every sweet bite. I call this tale “Broken Heart, Broken Toe: An Evening Cabaret With Betty” — NSA, you had a front seat, even though you know damn well you weren’t invited that night.

"10 Things the NSA Has Seen Me Do", Legacy Russell

After a pretty painful breakup one year, I found myself in bed for what felt like the fifth consecutive day in a row, playing Lauryn Hill’s MTV Unplugged No. 2.0 “I Gotta Find Peace of Mind” on YouTube and eating frosting with a teaspoon directly out of the tub container. I am not sure where I had procured this frosting, or when, really, but when I had discovered it in my pantry, I knew that it was just going to be me and the darling Betty Crocker in a Sapphic spooning from then until eternity — to be honest, I had arrived at a place where I was pretty cool with that. At a certain point in my general depths of distracted despair, I dropped the tub. It promptly rolled across the room on its side, coming to a rest against my dresser. Instead of getting up and walking over to retrieve it, I, in my breakup-and-sugar-saturated state of mind, decided to reach for it. The task was Sisyphean, as it was unmistakably out of reach and there was no hope of getting it back with ease. This of course resulted in my rolling off the side of my bed in a disastrous choreography that ultimately culminated in my landing awkwardly on top of my own foot. I broke my toe that evening, but it didn’t matter: Lauryn Hill played on, and I lay on my back and called Betty Crocker’s name aloud with every sweet bite. I call this tale “Broken Heart, Broken Toe: An Evening Cabaret With Betty” — NSA, you had a front seat, even though you know damn well you weren’t invited that night.

"10 Things the NSA Has Seen Me Do", Legacy Russell

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