The lock on the diary was cheap, and could’ve easily been broken by any one of us if we really wanted to. The plastic notebook was scented with something potent and deeply synthetic, and the glitter always came off on our hands. We treated it like it was the most precious thing we had. The four of us – it eventually became three, by way of a painful BFF breakup – had bought the bright blue monstrosity at our primary school's bookstore, and it contained everything from our personal diary entries for the day to notes that we passed between us during class. We wrote them out like an MSN chat conversation, painstakingly drawing out the logo and chat box. One of the documents in this trove of secrets, luminescent gel pens and variations on the phrase “girlz rock!!!” was a sheet of lyrics we had written to the tune of ‘Nobody’s Fool’ by Avril Lavigne. At least 12 years later, the details are murky, but I recall it being an ode to our friendship, the neat structure making it easy for us to plug in references to being BFFs.
In a Billboard interview about a ‘#TBT Mixtape’ Spotify playlist she made for the publication, Phoebe Bridgers said: “I’ve always tried to be honest and unapologetic about my music taste, good is good. And I probably wouldn’t have made it to Elliott Smith without Avril Lavigne.” I think about this as Avril’s ‘How Does It Feel’ and ‘Tomorrow’ play, songs that seem to cement the lineage between the two. It is both striking and unsurprising to think of how much I’ve changed emotionally since being a preteen, but I never expected that some of the music I listened to then would feel near-identical to what makes me feel most vulnerable now. I’d always thought that going back to the well-worn CDs of my childhood, Avril prominent among them, would be more of a flight of fancy than a moment for revelation. Phoebe is not only an Avril for teenagers today – she is my Avril too. They’re both sharply funny, self-aware, and devastatingly honest lyricists – what now feel like big, clichéd references to him doing punk and her doing ballet somehow fit beside hypnotherapists and dream mazes in dorm rooms. (A friend recently texted me that “Sad person says really specific things is real reliable way to make me like a song,” which is so truly funny, and exactly why I love so many of the lyricists that I do.)
I remember gradually turning the volume dial on my CD player higher and higher, ‘My Happy Ending’ spinning inside it as my mother traded barbs with me over my P6 report card. I remember not hearing her enter my room a few days ago, but feeling her hands rest on my head as I blasted Punisher through my earphones and sobbed. Both Avril and Phoebe, over a decade apart, were telling me about their dreams, loneliness and longing; for those minutes, I could let myself sink into them. Sonically, there are so many ways in which the two diverge – as delightful as I found The Best Damn Thing era, I don’t foresee Phoebe taking a similar pivot – but the places they intersect feel uncanny.
I wonder when a love of something takes on the tone of nostalgia, and I wonder how the different kinds of sadness I’ve collected so far will feel ten years from now. I wonder if I’ll still have Phoebe and Avril, if their music will be condensed into unique grooves in microchips that I fasten to my temples. I wonder if I’ll still remember the diary then.
Things on my mind this week:
It’s mostly GE2020, surprise! Here are a few resources/things to read for your Cooling Off Day that I’ve been making my way through over the past week. Sending light and love to everyone who’s had to hear their humanity being disregarded over and over again. This weekend might not go the way we hope, but we’ll make it to next week and keep trying for the weeks, months and years to come.
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