Peel me a Book
Let's Peel
My Year of Rest and Relaxation
Not quite depression. Not quite satire. Not quite awake.
Perfect if you want to fall asleep for a year and call it self-improvement.
Synopsis
“If healing was a performance, she gave the most glamorous breakdown.”
A deadpan woman in pre-9/11 New York decides to medicate herself into hibernation. Why? Because the world is awful, grief is boring, and being conscious is so much work. This isn’t a redemption arc. It’s a slow, glittering implosion—equal parts satire, pain, and surreal surrender.
A novel where numbness becomes a kind of prayer, and nothingness wears designer sunglasses.
Mood:
detached · caustic · elegant · quietly devastating
Tone:
deadpan · hypnotic · withering
It Feels Like
Body:
like floating in bathwater that’s just starting to cool
Tempo:
steady, sedated, haunting
Texture:
glossy pill bottle covered in fingerprints
A Little Taste
“I plunged into sleep full force once this arrangement had been made. It was an exciting time in my life. I felt hopeful. I felt I was on my way to a great transformation. Sleep felt productive. Something was getting sorted out. I knew in my heart—this was, perhaps, the only thing my heart knew back then—that when I’d slept enough, I’d be okay. I’d be renewed, reborn. I would be a whole new person, every one of my cells regenerated enough times that the old cells were just distant, foggy memories. My past life would be but a dream, and I could start over without regrets, bolstered by the bliss and serenity that I would have accumulated in my year of rest and relaxation.”
The Aftertaste
The bliss and horror of emotional numbness
That sleep can be a rebellion—and a disguise
A deep ache under the gloss of control
Peel With a Drink
To Be Read With A cool, aloof white—think French Sauvignon Blanc or a dry Chenin Blanc with a sterile elegance. Something that doesn’t want to be liked but still haunts you after the first glass. The kind of wine that smells like clean sheets and distant judgment.
You don’t sip it to enjoy it—you sip it to forget what you were feeling. And then you pour another.
Peel With a Reel
Swallow (2019, dir. Carlo Mirabella-Davis) A woman trapped in a perfect life begins swallowing objects—elegant, eerie, and a slow-burn revolt against expectation and control.
Belle de Jour (1967, dir. Luis Buñuel) A beautiful housewife starts moonlighting as a sex worker out of boredom—stylish, cold, and full of surreal resistance to the roles she’s expected to play.
Peel with a Beat
Peel me a Book
Or Try:
Jean Rhys
Both write about women drowning with open eyes. Jean offers the sadness; Ottessa gives you the stink.
Let's Peel
My Year of Rest and Relaxation
Not quite depression. Not quite satire. Not quite awake.
Perfect if you want to fall asleep for a year and call it self-improvement.
Synopsis
“If healing was a performance, she gave the most glamorous breakdown.”
A deadpan woman in pre-9/11 New York decides to medicate herself into hibernation. Why? Because the world is awful, grief is boring, and being conscious is so much work. This isn’t a redemption arc. It’s a slow, glittering implosion—equal parts satire, pain, and surreal surrender.
A novel where numbness becomes a kind of prayer, and nothingness wears designer sunglasses.
Mood:
detached · caustic · elegant · quietly devastating
Tone:
deadpan · hypnotic · withering
It Feels Like
Body:
like floating in bathwater that’s just starting to cool
Tempo:
steady, sedated, haunting
Texture:
glossy pill bottle covered in fingerprints
A Little Taste
“I plunged into sleep full force once this arrangement had been made. It was an exciting time in my life. I felt hopeful. I felt I was on my way to a great transformation. Sleep felt productive. Something was getting sorted out. I knew in my heart—this was, perhaps, the only thing my heart knew back then—that when I’d slept enough, I’d be okay. I’d be renewed, reborn. I would be a whole new person, every one of my cells regenerated enough times that the old cells were just distant, foggy memories. My past life would be but a dream, and I could start over without regrets, bolstered by the bliss and serenity that I would have accumulated in my year of rest and relaxation.”
The Aftertaste
The bliss and horror of emotional numbness
That sleep can be a rebellion—and a disguise
A deep ache under the gloss of control
Peel With a Drink
To Be Read With A cool, aloof white—think French Sauvignon Blanc or a dry Chenin Blanc with a sterile elegance. Something that doesn’t want to be liked but still haunts you after the first glass. The kind of wine that smells like clean sheets and distant judgment.
You don’t sip it to enjoy it—you sip it to forget what you were feeling. And then you pour another.
Peel With a Reel
Swallow (2019, dir. Carlo Mirabella-Davis) A woman trapped in a perfect life begins swallowing objects—elegant, eerie, and a slow-burn revolt against expectation and control.
Belle de Jour (1967, dir. Luis Buñuel) A beautiful housewife starts moonlighting as a sex worker out of boredom—stylish, cold, and full of surreal resistance to the roles she’s expected to play.