The Trash Tramps Guide to Summer 2025

In a very particular order:

• Smooth cigarettes.

• Shorts so short they may as well just be panties.

• The color orange. 

• Sweat. Lots of sweat.

• Full bush. If you’re shaving your vag, you’re not invited to the party. 

• On a similar note, pit hair! Let me get all up in your pheromones.

• Bowie. Specifically pre-Berlin. Thin White Duke is acceptable, but you have to be able to back it up with a developing or long standing coke problem.

• Disco. 

• Prioritizing your own orgasm. He’ll be fine.

• Getting sunburned so badly at the beach that your girl has to sensually rub aloe vera all over your naked, peeling flesh.

• Gaslighting strangers

• Richard Hell’s feud with Tom Verlaine. Pick a side, stick to it, start as many arguments about it as possible and then pretend like you’ve never heard of Television.

• Gaslighting friends.

• Sobriety.

• Pen pals.

• Poetry.

• The inevitable drinking problem that manifests once you start writing poetry.

• Tom foolery, shenanigans, hijinx, and even a little bit of monkey business. 

• Junkie business.

• Making love. NOT fucking. I’m talking passionate, slow, intimate, tantric.

• Yelling the lyrics of any Johnny Thunders song at negroni drinkers on St. Marks.

• Filth. 

• Kimonos & pasta on the fire escapes with the girls. 

• Only sleeping with musicians that are willing to write a song about your vagina, á la Lux Interior.

• Dancing like everyone’s watching.

• Sexual tension.

• Tripping balls on the beach.

• Three square meals a day to make up for all the drinking that was kickstarted by your poetry writing.

• Road trips with strange, eccentric men. 

• John Waters.

• Red bikinis and big sun hats.

• Reading the book the film adaptation was based on.

• Being horny all the goddamn time.