You dear, delightful handful of readers who’ve subscribed, I want to thank you. I *see* you, as they say. And I’m grateful for your support.
As for the rest of you…I’m grateful for you too! The thing is I originally intended this to be an “extra” for paid subscribers but geez if I can’t quit y’all. I will though do that at some point maybe soon.
Anyhoo, you know how at a museum you stand before a work that absolutely floors you, you want to be immediately intoxicated by that awe and, moveoer, what induced it; to live inside of the totality of the art and the emotion it provokes, keep them both fresh, like submerging in the ocean—to hold on to that all encompassing bracing, brisk fluidity that invigorates and restores—but as soon as you turn away from the painting, walk away from the wake, it’s gone. You can’t stay in the waves forever. The sense of grace and wonder that we experience in the face of something awesome—art or nature (good lord, my sister and her peeps are in Arches National Park—I think that’s what it’s called—this week and the pictures alone are jaw-dropping. To see it in person must be unfathomably exquisite and transcendent). What am I getting at? The challenge of being “in the moment” is that they pass so quickly and with them go their intensity—whether it’s vibrations of sheer joy or utter dejection. There was a reason though that I wanted to say all this—about keep experiences fresh, exhilirating in the imagination. But the moment, well…you know.
I went this evening to a networking event—a friend invited me. There were probably about 25 people there. Of those 20 were lawyers. No judgement. But, hey, where my creatives at???
They asked everyone to say their name, what they do, and to reveal a “guilty pleasure.” One person said karaoke, though why that’s a guilty pleasure, I cannot know. I revealed my unseemly habit of insta-stalking the Kardashian/Jenner sisters. Someone asked my favorite. Khloe, said I, and the reaction gave me the sense that was decidedly the wrong answer.
I wrote a note to the principle of my son’s school about the war in Gaza and various thises and thats about how we might talk about it with kids, and immediately regretted being outspoken, going perhaps against the mainstream. Her response came and I wondered if she subtly dressed me down though I recognize I may project amidst this recent, unfortunate, unproductive exchange with insecurity.
Meantime, my time to recommend a couple of things:
For one, this excellent essay by Ivan Kreilkamp about many things all attached to the phrase “up the junction,” which sparked Ivan’s imagination because—as fans of Squeeze will know—it’s the title of one of their songs. It’s also the title of an esteemed British novel by Nell Dunn and so very much more. I edited this piece, I like very much, and I hope you do too. As for Ivan—well I probably first met him way back when Squeeze was still young (and so was I); he once got me a gig helping the late poet Louise Gluck proofread work, which she did by reciting everything—including punctuation—aloud backward.
Second, this Cat Power cover of “I had a dream Joe,” which is trance-inducing in the best way possible. Her voice has a somewhat flinty quality, which in this case is a compliment of the highest order. It’s rich and mysterious. Also, I love the way she hangs on to syllables sometimes a beat or two too long—like she’s about to go over a cliff but able to hang on with one hand. Which reminds me of how when I used to listen to Toni Childs (remember her) I described her voice as sounding like she had a mouth full of carrots. Orange ones. It made sense to me then, though my brother always questioned it.
I love this Danger Mouse/Jemini song “All I” so very much.
It’s not quid pro quo, I swear, but if you want other things to read, definitely check out Rob Walker’s The Art of Noticing, which often has a lot to do with how to “be in the moment.”
Also, I worked on a series of podcasts—conversations about intellectual humility. One of the lessons that came across in all of them so emphatically was the need to listen when others talk—and not to be thinking all the while of your response or rebuttal, but to be engaged fully in the act of listening. That is a compelling directive. I especially liked the conversations on math education, faith, and medicine. Please listen and share them if you see fit—we’d all be better off with more intellectual humility (which if you’re too lazy to look at the link, it’s basically the willingness to be open to the idea that what you believe may be wrong).
Alright, I’m zonkered. Bedtime calls. Thank you all for reading. G’night..