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Don’t you think that PI FYI is a bit like Wendy Cope’s poem The Orange if it was a social media platform? Everyone sharing and recommending the things that bring them meaning and joy in life. It’s so wholesome.
It’s been a minute but I have some time off this weekend so I will likely indulge some more of my thoughts and recs for the benefit of journaling.
Feb 22, 2025
Related Recs
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If letterboxd is social media so be it! Flex ur corny takes on otessa moshfehg. you can also join groups ex: “unpretentious Joan didion lovers”
also motivates me to read too w lists and progress logs etc
Not sponsored!
Nov 10, 2023
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Yes in form im posting recommendations, but in content im weaving narrative threads. Dropping hints. Developing themes. Check my goodreads & yelp reviews and you'll find a cross-platform confessional hidden in plain sight.
Feb 10, 2024
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every day i log on and write like a little book report on a piece of media that impacted me and that i cherish and why... it's so nice to reflect...!
Feb 27, 2024
Top Recs from @sammyawkward
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Does anyone else keep memory boxes?
These are old shoe boxes full of keep sakes which could be as silly as receipts from a holiday, letters from old friends, gig tickets, set lists from memorable shows, photos etc
I have quite a few of them now and am aware that if I keep on going like this, I’ll probably have an entire room full of boxes of these objects that possess a sentimental value. But will that be practical?
So I came up with an idea, an archival undertaking of sorts called ’Debris Of a Life’, where I whittle down my boxes to just one box to rule them all and with the keepsakes that don’t make the cut being scanned and documented via a zine. I’d imagine this could end up being a few volumes worth of material but there is something that has really caught my imagination with this style of scrapbooking being presented in my most favourite of all formats; the zine.
I will post more about this idea as it develops.
Apr 6, 2025
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Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
and dress them in warm clothes again.
How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,
how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.
Jul 1, 2024
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Not always complicity
Apr 12, 2025