Dear Diary: Over November

Dear Diary: Over November

IN A COLUMN FOR VMAGAZINE.COM, LIZ NISTICO, ONE HALF OF POP DUO HOLYCHILD, LETS YOU INTO HER WORLD, HER MIND, AND HER EXPERIENCES AS AN ARTIST IN AN INDUSTRY FIXATED ON POLISHED PERSONAE. HERE, SHE OPENS UP ABOUT THE HIGHS AND LOWS AND THE THINGS THAT GLITTER BUT ARE RARELY GOLD

IN A COLUMN FOR VMAGAZINE.COM, LIZ NISTICO, ONE HALF OF POP DUO HOLYCHILD, LETS YOU INTO HER WORLD, HER MIND, AND HER EXPERIENCES AS AN ARTIST IN AN INDUSTRY FIXATED ON POLISHED PERSONAE. HERE, SHE OPENS UP ABOUT THE HIGHS AND LOWS AND THE THINGS THAT GLITTER BUT ARE RARELY GOLD

Text: LIZ NISTICO

NOVEMBER FELT LIKE THIS:

Two nights ago, I got too high, and I was paranoid that a ghost would come into my house and I couldn't sleep alone. This is life after tour: I'm nervous to be by myself, but I'm honest about it!   Highlights of the month include my finger nail falling off (finally!), sleeping in nice hotels, playing shows with Ryn and ASTR, and falling in love with too many people. Also writing my novel, which is really just my lesbian fantasies, erotica fiction or whatever. Ha.

We were on tour for two months, and November was so high and so low. In between long drives and useless arguments, we were on stage and feeling real and pure connections with people all over the U.S. I wrote everyday in my diary and I had intended to publish those words here, but my exerts were ridden with self-doubt and I hated myself for not appreciating the journey I was on.

When I was waitressing in New York City a few years ago I met a woman who wanted what other people had. She couldn't decide what she wanted to eat and when I came back to check on her she told me she wished she had chosen her date's appetizer, entree, and then his dessert. Her eyes drooped in her face and her skin was leather.

In LA, I was with my friend and we were too high and I was reading my words and I could see her dry blonde hair in the candle light. Only I didn't want someone else's life, I was reveling in oppression and fantasizing about abusive relationships and nervous I wouldn't wake up in the morning, and I'm too nervous to show that side of me to the public.

The photos included are from all over the country, and I prefer a visual representation of my month rather than my words. I'm a human and my diary failed me and I'm scared of revealing myself. Enjoy.

November 28

Everything sucks. I’m uninspired. I hate my art. I should have an office job and live with three cats, and also go on vacation for Christmas: CABO, BABY!

November 29

Everyone is paired off and I no longer love anyone! I have reached nirvana waiting in line at a restaurant: attachment free. I haven't been inspired by my words or my own art and I'm comforted only because I assume other people go through the same roller coaster of emotions. I wrote a series of paragraphs for this column, but they were too self-deprecating and I couldn't bear to reveal my true diary self to the public. I'm missing tour; I'm missing the movement and the people at the shows, and the fact that I didn't eat because I couldn't remember and had no time.

In San Diego, when I was on stage, a woman was feeding me negativity and I didn't sing our penultimate song and instead I told her I loved her and I hugged her while the band played. In Chicago, a girl assumed I was flirting with her boyfriend when we talked about Brian Eno and she yelled at me, but then I told her she hurt my feelings, and I'm a person, too. It's unfortunate that I'm stuck in my head and analyzing but I assume (again) I'm not the only one. It feels like the world is slipping apart, and Paris confirmed it, and Black Friday confirmed it, yet still, I'm in LA, and ordering food, and overly concerned with if the waiter thinks I'm cute or not. I'm waiting for the day it’s all brighter, and equality is a truth, but I think that’s all up to us.

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