in conversation with logan robinson
My friends,
I’m so excited and so honoured to introduce this post to you today, part of a new “in conversation with” series that my beautiful Internet-poet friend,
has created. is from new york, and writes incredible pose around heartache, mental health, growing pains, and queer identity. I find myself reading every line over and over and over - thinking what a gift it is to have a mind that works like that.Follow
on Instagram here, and you can buy his poetry books here (hint: his latest poetry collection, Forecast, is a m a z i n g).I hope you enjoy our conversation on love, time, writing, creativity, grief, hope, and every other little thing.
Love you angels, happy Sunday
Xo,
Emily
Welcome to my first ever ‘in conversation with.’ It’s so special to be able to create this space with other artists, creators, and more! What better way than to kick off this series with an all around creative soul. She’s the creator of
as well as a poet, creative and social strategist, and occasional food reviewer, Emily Mais! (side-note: i want to thank emily for giving me this idea to interview artists i’m so grateful!)
photo credit: @emaisy on instagram
She’s based in Rome and Toronto.
Today she’s joined me to talk about her ideas on love, what it’s like to travel, her relationship with time, as well as her relationship with people, and how all of this has influenced her as a writer and creative!
Logan: It's great to be doing this interview with you. Thank you for being here and trusting me to ask you some questions. First and foremost, how are you doing today?
Emily: I am so good, because I’m just so excited to chat about writing and emotions and feelings with a fellow poet. Angels in the form of strangers.
Logan: That’s so beautiful. I love the idea that people can come from anywhere and give a small or large amount of inspiration, but even then just have that ability to inspire. Which leads to my next question… What got you into writing? Who and/or what inspired you to bring your ideas to pen and paper and build such personal, cathartic and enveloping worlds AND words?
Emily: Ok, I’m going to be completely honest as I answer this question. There have been so many times in my life that I can pinpoint and pick out moments where I felt completely misunderstood and almost alien-like as a person. I think, in a sense, my need to write was driven out of a sense of pain and frustration. When I was 23, my mom passed away of appendix cancer, and I don’t think people know this - but I was a primary caregiver for those 2 years when she was sick. I didn’t work, I was in school part-time - and the other half was spending it going in and out of hospitals, going to doctor’s appointments, and going to chemotherapy appointments.
Her passing away also coincided with me being newly single - so I felt like I was reborn into this new world without any sort of stability or navigation. I feel like a broken record when I say this - but there’s also such a taboo-ness when it comes to talking or being open about our feelings around death and grief and hurt and heartache. I find that none of us were really equipped with tools to just listen, or we go into immediate “fix mode” - and gaslight ourselves and others with toxic positivity, or we just numb and numb and numb.
I felt like my sadness and my pain and my grief were going to be a burden. I felt like I was working overtime to convince myself and others that I was happy and fine and no one had to worry about me or feel sorry for me. I was also going out all the time - to different bars and to restaurants and to clubs, and hanging around in a scene that felt very, very, fake to me. And, actually, now I remember, my therapist said to me: “Emily - this lifestyle is going to lose its appeal very quick.”
So I had started a fashion blog as an outlet, and writing that blog, and taking photos for it - every few weeks was the one thing that really brought me true joy. I felt like I was myself. I was creating something, and people were loving my words, I was building a following. And with each outfit, with each post - I was hellbent on telling the story behind it. I’d pick a different area of the city and write about how the outfit I chose represented the area, the mood, the vibe, etc.
photo credit: @emaisy on instagram
And I think it was, maybe a year or so, after about a year of writing Emily On The Avenue (lol) - I remember, I was on vacation with my best friend. And we were lying on the beach, and I was like, “Ok. I think I want to write about grief.” And that’s really how it all started.
Logan: I’m so sorry for your loss, but also very much in awe of how you channeled your feelings in the end. Vulnerability is such an undervalued gift, but in your hands, it isn't. Your pieces are sentimental and so unabashedly heartfelt, it’s motivating and it’s even more incredible how you present LOVE. In your pieces, you don't present love as something singular. rather, a multi-faceted, complex, heartbreaking, profoundly intimate, hue-rich, and romantic force. It’s the love for others, the surroundings, and for yourself. Where do you find yourself with love now?
Emily: Honestly - my dad said something to me the other day: “You don’t know what love is until you lose it.” And I truly believe that watching someone you love die at a young age, teaches you what love is - in so many different ways. The love for life and living itself is, I think, is the one that sticks with me most. I’ll share something more personal too - it’s not the death itself that is traumatic. It’s the dying part, the sickness part. It’s watching someone you love slowly lose the ability to drink coffee or to make tea. To walk up the stairs to say goodnight. To hug her friends because her immune system is compromised, that if she catches the tiniest cold, she could die.
But where I am in love right now - is with this moment in front of me. And it sounds so clichè, but there is something about loss that is just so, centering. Loss has this way of humanizing us, and humbling us. Bringing us to our knees. But love is the one thing that will lift us up again - and it might not come in the form of romantic love, but it’ll come through moments like this:
Typing my heart away to you, sitting underneath the sun at golden hour on my sister’s rooftop, just outside of the city. It’s quiet and it’s peaceful - I can allow myself to truly think. Love is the 5 pm sun on my bare shoulders. Love is the stranger who sits a few feet away, drinking a fizzy orange soda and smoking a joint. Love is the book next me, with the intention I had to read it - but instead, I’d rather talk to you. Love is an exercise in patience and gratitude as I wait to return to one of my many homes, and begin a new chapter, a new adventure.
Logan: I’m so grateful and honored that you took the time to answer these questions so beautifully and intentionally. All of your pieces have such intention and care, especially the hyper-personal ones. I keep going back to your piece called ‘What Isn’t Ours.’ A piece about time, how it’s finicky and unpredictable, and within it you wrote:
"How much time does it take for a place to feel like home? Is there an amount of required time to call some place yours? And can we even call it ours if it doesn’t belong to us?"
This was about two-and-a-half years ago. it seems you describe time as an entity as well as an omnipotence. How do you feel about time now? And how and where do you feel time has carried you since writing this piece?
Emily: I know we talked about this already - but I am so happy you asked me about “What Isn’t Ours” - I didn’t realize this at the time of writing - but it became the catalyst for so many events and essentially the overarching theme for the two-and-a half years that followed.
At that current moment - I was so enamored with this immediate connection I had felt with Rome. It had been, maybe six weeks of me living there, and I had felt this feeling of both ease and excitement. Like this is how my life should be, and should feel. I was going to new cafes and bars alone, I was meeting new friends. I had just started my newsletter, and I had just started building this community, it was all just so easy and joy-filled and effortless. And none of that was really happening for me, or had happened for me in Toronto. So I was like - ok - how can it be, that I was living in an environment for 16 years - that had never really felt like mine. Even though I had spent so much time in one place for the majority of my life - the feeling that I had/have in Rome, where I truly felt both alive, and at home within myself - I had that only after six weeks of being there, versus being somewhere for 16 years.
Then, I met this man (PN), who, I think, in his own way solidified time as both an entity and omnipotence. “What Isn’t Ours” begins with a conversation between him and I - and it’s clear to see and to feel that time for him was something that he didn’t feel like he had enough of, something that was escaping him.
Questions that I had never asked a human being, let alone a man before - I found myself asking him. And every answer he gave me, I mean - our conversations, they became like poetry. And at that time, I was also someone who was so extremely guarded when it came to love. But when I met him, and when we started to talk to each other - it was like this instant comfortability. Instant understanding. That feeling of home, but - again with someone who isn’t “yours”.
And it’s so, so interesting and haunting and beautiful - I think, to know that backstory, as the reader. After that second meeting, where the conversation about time takes place - they (we lol) never meet up privately again. And 2.5 years go by - and you witness this relationship change its form - but what never changes is that emotional bond, and emotional connection, and those feelings that were very present between the both of us.
So, now, in essence, I’ve realized that time in the physical world - yes. It’s an entity. But when it comes to love, and when it comes to feelings - that’s when time and everything we’ve deemed as “logical”, ceases to exist. And that, to me, is actually extremely comforting.
photo credit: @emaisy on instagram
Logan: I love the story of PN and Peter Pan. It’s so cinematic, in a sense. Time really is a force but it’s just so amazing the way you described it. New places can really have such a profound effect on the psyche, especially when it feels like you’re leaving a cycle and entering this place of becoming. You travel a lot! It’s explored in different pieces such as 'so long, london [parts 1 & 2]' and 'lessons from a roman summer' Would you consider yourself a nomad?
Emily: Ok for some reason - I honestly cringe at the term nomad. The first image that comes to mind is like, a cloaked wizard with a hood lol. But I feel like this is the path the universe and I chose for me at this point in my life. It’s beautiful to have options, and to know that we have the power to change up our environments and our scenery at any given moment. I don’t like the process of traveling itself, but I do find this rush of freedom and expansion when I’m about to board a plane to somewhere new - even though I always end up back in the same place.
Logan: Haha I love that. Nomad was a word I first heard when Clairo said it in the song of the same title- and I completely understand how grueling the process of traveling is… ESPECIALLY internationally. But the fact that you’re so willing is so admirable. As an artist, uncomfortableness is something in our veins. But not an unnerving kind… A craving kind, that yearn for new places, learning adaptability. To build off of question five, do you feel it's important to find comfortability in places that are foreign? Whether that be a road trip from home or a pond jump to an entirely new country.
Emily: I have this fear of stagnancy, and I think it’s something that exists in both places where I live, and in romantic experiences as well. To me, when I think of staying in one place, or let’s say, being comfortable/settling in a relationship - I think it can feel limiting for an artist, or for anyone who has that desire in them to question and make meaning out of everything that makes them feel something. Someone said to me, “it’s not about the search for happiness, but it’s about the search for beauty.” And I think that’s where I land. To me, being in anything or being anywhere that is foreign - is beautiful because it’s a new experience. And to me, that feeling of discomfort actually means you’re experiencing what it feels like to be alive.
Logan: Wow. That last line struck a cord and I agree wholeheartedly. I think being comfortable with being comfortable is okay to a limit but eventually, we’re going to want to explore, and that doesn’t come without some stipulations. You mentioned that you’ve made new friends and even romantic connections, and in your pieces you explore the robust feelings of being within them, losing them, some that circle back, etc. It’s a character study of the natural human condition, in a sense. How would you say your relationship with humans as a whole has changed throughout the creation of 'every little thing' and your voyages across the globe?
Emily: I believe that everything is cyclical and everyone you meet serves a purpose, but they’re also meeting you for a specific reason, too. I feel like - the humans (characters) that rarely, if ever change - are my friends at home, especially my best friend, or my spiritual friend, or my therapist lol. They always provide this sense of reassurance and grounding.
photo credit: @emaisy on instagram
But I think one of the biggest things I’ve learned - and again, I’m stealing this line from What Isn’t Ours. I wrote, “I ask to be sent angels in the form of strangers.” And I think - if you are aware of the broader themes or questions you have in your life at that moment, I feel like the universe has this way of aligning you with humans that help to kind of, spark those answers for you.
I remember, it was last fall. And me and PN had gotten into this “tiff” a few months prior, and I hadn’t seen him since. But me being me, I was like - ok it’s been a few months. Surely he’s gotten over it. Nope. I wasn’t allowed to sit at the bar. He was looking at me like - I was the devil reincarnated. And so I got into my Uber that night - and I was, just. I was so upset. I end up telling my Uber driver (who had also told me he was a personal driver for publishers and editors at Harper Collins lol) - and I was like, “You know. It wasn’t supposed to be this big deal. We only hooked up twice last year. And it wasn’t supposed to be this big thing.” And my Uber driver says, “Well, if it wasn’t really a big thing, then it still wouldn’t be a big thing. Does that make sense?” And that line, from a complete stranger, stuck with me.
Logan: That’s incredible, it feels all so fated. It’s like life has autonomy, it knows where to take and where not to take us. Like the fire isn’t to kill us, it’s to shed the skin of a version of ourselves to walk out new. We’re always changing. But change doesn’t come without its costs sometimes. The darkness leading to the light. In 'A Peter Pan Resurgence' you wrote:
"I think spring was the perfect season for us. The beginning of something. Something unpredictable. The unexpected thunderstorms that roll in on a perfectly sunny day. Changes. What happened here? You step outside, place your hand on the railing and immediately pull it back. You watch as the leftover raindrops roll down the palm of your hand."
I adore this paragraph, it reminds me of my book, and the gracious things a cleansing rain could bring us. in moments where you're low or having a hard time with something, what's your "cleansing rain?" something that brings you back to a solaced state.
Emily: Ok - this is such a beautiful question. Honestly - I think just letting myself cry really brings me back to that solaced, human state. Crying without feeling like you have to fix something, or rationalize why you’re crying. Meditation is also a huge thing for me. I am all air and all fire - so anything that kind of… snaps me back into being a human being without overanalyzing and overthinking - is so important. I have to remind myself to get out of my head and into my heart instead.
Logan: Diving into the what the heart tells us is such an incredible thing, something I think is good for the long run. There’s a stigma about going by our feelings, but sometimes, it can really save us. Who says we can’t think logically while also using our feelings as a tool. We wouldn’t have feelings if they were not meant to be used or take us in a certain direction. It’s 2024. Do you have a set vision on where you see yourself in 5 years? as a writer, artist, and person as a whole?
Emily: Oh my gosh, I always have the hardest time answering questions about the future. And I think because everything is always fluctuating and moving, and you never really know who you’re going to meet, or what change is around the corner. But I do know enough about who I am to say that - I just hope that I’m continuing to follow my heart. I just hope that I’m healthy, that I’m living in Europe, and I just hope that I’m not afraid of falling in love.
Logan: I love this answer, Europe is truly beautiful and I hope you’ll be able to explore it in all of its facets. I have just one more question… After answering these questions, where do you find yourself now?
Emily: I hope this doesn’t sound cliché. But I find myself - beaming with pride. Truly. It’s so interesting to revisit our stories and to see how the odds were really stacked against us at one point - or sometimes, at multiple points in time. And I know that, the life I chose and the life that has unfolded for me - definitely was not the vision that my parents probably had for me, or that I even had for myself. But I am so, incredibly proud of it. I am so incredibly proud that I choose to define success in my own terms - which is living a creative life, a passionate life, a fun life, but most of all - a free life.
photo credit: @emaisy on instagram
Logan: That doesn’t sound cliché at all, it’s beautiful and vulnerable. I’m proud of you too. I want to thank you again for being so open, honest, and vulnerable with the world. Sensitivity is a gift and you're embracing and empowering it so beautifully.
Ps.
asked me to create a playlist for this newsletter! which was such an iconic ask so of course i had to include the standards: maroon + ride (obviously), but also, lykke li’s “hard rain” is a beautiful song to cry and reminisce out an airplane to. the weeknd’s “until i bleed out” is my favourite from him, and to me, represents the times you would do just about anything to forget a person. “i wish i hated you” + “cardigan” (but the cabin in candelight version) is for making peace, but “open your eyes” and “champagne supernova” is for those hopeful movie moment endings. it’s all a duality, really. | A guest post by
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