- two black slips: Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters
- VANS high-tops: swapped with my roommate, Katelyn
- vintage denim vest: thrifted at Salvation Army
- black HUE tights: thanks, Mom, my tights dealer
- pins: KEXP and Planned Parenthood forever
- Idk what fatbeyonce420 is wearing but I know the dress is from Asos and I’m certain she looks perfect
I returned from Texas last night and slept for a long time, and now I’m drinking tea and thinking about all the shit that happened this past week. Despite seeing countless bands and friends (for which I’m super grateful), the events were overshadowed by the horrible tragedy only 3 blocks from where I was staying. I’m so sorry for all my friends who witnessed it and even sorrier for those killed and injured. It was really sad and weird to continue taking meetings and going to shows, and I’m still processing the context of everything.
All I got right now is “please don’t drink and drive.” Like, ever.
- I am allowed to be vocal about my pain if it helps me heal
- I am allowed to be sad in places other than my own head
- I am allowed to express my anger/sadness/hurt in ways that do not hurt other people, whether that is in writing or speaking to friends
- I am allowed to speak my truth even when it makes others uncomfortable
- I am allowed to take care of myself, even if it makes people who hurt me uncomfortable
- I am allowed to create my own rules for self-care
I don’t really know anything about roller derby but I do know quite a few people who participate. The raddest of all is my friend Megan, who lives in LA and is a proud member of the LA Derby Dolls. Founded in April 2003, the league has more than 150 adult skaters, 130 junior skaters (ages 7 to 17), and hundreds of volunteers and support staff. They’ve been a part of the LA community for 10+ years but unfortunately their practice space - the Doll Factory - is slated for demolition due to development in the area.
The LA Derby Dolls launched an IndieGogo campaign to help move to a new space, and you can read more about it by clicking through the photo above. Sweaty broads ftw.
Photo cred: Marshall Garlington
More behind the cut! Some NSFW.
Roxy passed away on November 24, 2013. Sad doesn’t really begin to cover it. Neither does heartbroken.
Roxy and I met on twitter in 2011 (thanks, Megan) and this surprised just about everyone because we always seemed like we’d known each other forever. I can’t say I have any regrets because we had a no-holds-barred kinda friendship. The last thing we talked about was a combination of cystic labia acne, group sex, and grocery shopping while intoxicated, and I’m totally okay with that.
When my cousin Paul died several years ago I didn’t tell anyone; not my roommate at the time, and not a single friend from college. Because the more people that know about something the more real that thing is, which is particularly true when it comes to loss. In a way, my taking so long to write about it on Broadist is another means of burying my grief, but some of the best advice given to me was “there’s no correct way to mourn.”
Here in Brooklyn, Roxy’s death is still not entirely tangible as most of our friendship was online. It was just a few months ago that she visited New York last.
I ultimately decided this photo was too porny for instagram. Roxy wanted to keep it though, so here it is.
Broadist has always been about feeling it out and going with our gut(s), and I’m starting that process over again, or rather, revisiting what it all means. She appreciated how much I hate logistics and even now, over two months later, I’m still haunted by the logistics of the thing we created together. She would have been the person to ask what to do in this terribly specific and tragic situation.
“What becomes of the banana skirt?” and “How should I edit our bios on Broadist?” both came to mind immediately. How will I fly to LA for her funeral? HOW WILL I HANDLE THIS ON THE INTERNET?
You may have noticed Roxy hadn’t contributed to this blog much since its summer-2011-inception. She started law school that fall and simply put, it was time consuming. Collectively we were always giant balls of anxiety but, as a law student and music industry freelancer, we handled it in different ways. I’ve always found writing to be cathartic whereas she felt it was another obligation, like reading about a case or something. I had a hard time wrapping my head around that concept because she loved Broadist with all her blood and guts and I just wanted her to do what she loved always 100% of the time forever. Whenever she wrote something it was the most magical surprise– I would get a text about it like, “Caroline, look in drafts!” and our hearts would gleam. No matter how few blog posts came from the west coast, the essence of Broadist was always both of us and still is which is fucking weird because Roxy is gone now.
An intimate thing that came up in our friendship (it surfaces in all my friendships, really), is my keen ability to drown myself in work and plummet off radars for months even years without notice. Roxy’s awareness of this was inspiring and kept me in check: “I know you always say you get busy and just disappear from peoples’ lives but you can’t do that with me, okay?” Now that she’s gone I resolve so actively to stop disappearing. If you get a weird email or phone call or postcard or something, or if you notice a blog post maybe, please understand that I’m trying so hard not to disappear. Nothing is as important as the people you love which sounds so cliché but is truer than ever now that I’ve lost yet another close friend this past month. Just trust me, ok? Losing contact is not worth it.
People really need to stop dying because this is hard to write and I am selfish and about to go on a tangent so I’ll stop with one last intimate thing that came up in Roxy and my friendship/texts after her visit here.
Rox: Knock knock
Me: ass ass ass ass ass
Rox: TITTIES. Ugh I miss you bunches.
Me: Miss you too. I am going to bed now because I’m exhausted.
Rox: Ok I’m going to cry because I can’t find soup.
Me: I want to feed you soup.
Rox: Let’s get married.
I love you, lady. RIP. Broadist isn’t going anywhere.