September Charcuterie
We love a five-Friday month! This time the bullet points are little flowers shedding their petals in a brisk fall breeze. Cute right??
Dear reader, this became so much longer than I intended. Cutting and editing is for those who have time to spare, and this week, I do not. As you read, I am moving. Today’s the day! Send prayers and bookshelf inspiration. I have a 10 foot wall to use and no idea how to use it. Xoxo!
Reading
𓇢𓆸 This article in the Atlantic passed on to me by my sister, Kathryn considers the minefield of trigger warnings we now live amongst. I am lucky to have never really experienced big T Trauma, and I realize that leaves a hole in my perspective on the subject of trigger warnings. That being said, I like how
provides a culture of resilience as the counterpoint to a culture of trauma. I would certainly rather live in the former.𓇢𓆸 A poem from my Poem A Day anthology that I read on my cousin Daisy’s birthday and that reminds me of her so much—it’s like the editor knew, Daisy Hilliard was born on this day. It’s an excellent poem, even if you don’t know Daisy. I mean, it’s Wordsworth. Excuse the bad picture, taken in the midst of my packing frenzy.
𓇢𓆸 This New Yorker piece is for anyone who twitches in their sleep (everyone). I found it sooo interesting. Why do we twitch? The obvious answer would be that we twitch when we dream. Our toes twinkle when we dream about standing on the seashore, or we accidentally hit our boyfriends in the face because our dreaming selves are engaged in sword fights. That kind of thing. However—as is often the case (despite what Occam would have you believe), here, the obvious answer is wrong.
𓇢𓆸 This NYBR piece about the writing of Rachel Ingals who I have no experience with. I feel like I’ve heard people being very buzzy about Mrs. Caliban recently though, so I’ve been thinking about getting experience. I found Lily Meyer’s perspective really refreshing in this “men are trash” moment we seem to be living through, which I find so boring and depressing. I love men. According to the author here, many (not all) of Ingals male characters might be nightmares, but her female characters still love and want men too—still need men. I’ll have to report back on whether I agree once I do my reading.
Substack-Specific Delights
𓇢𓆸
is a must, must read for anyone who lives in or loves New York City. has embarked on a project to document every neighborhood in all five boroughs. He’s a photographer, so there’s a lot of that, but he also does field recordings and shares fascinating history and stories about each hood. It’s delightfully nerdy, and I look forward to it every week.𓇢𓆸 Over at
, publishes an 100 word story every (business) day, and they’re varyingly fun, shocking, sad, etc. Well-written little bites, and so quick to read. They inspire me because I’m incapable of writing a single thing less than 10000000000 words. Case in point, this post.𓇢𓆸 This piece on Clarice Lispector from
’s was really excellent, and particularly enjoyable for me after my life changing experience with An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures. “What gets in the way of writing is having to use words.” So true, Clarice.
Other Bookish Things
𓇢𓆸 If you’re in Seattle, check out Ophelia’s Bookstore in Fremont. I loved it in there.
𓇢𓆸 I’ve been carrying aroundVolume III of Heavy Traffic all month per a recommendation that I got from
, though I can’t find the exact post now. It’s been fun to have low-pressure access to reading and the variety is good too. Most of the stories are short enough to start and finish on the bus to work. My favorite one was “Better than Craigslist” by Maggie Dunlap, but I also haven’t read them all yet. Like I said, low-pressure. I’m just perusing.
𓇢𓆸 After reading the piece about Ingals mentioned above, I subscribed to the New York Review of Books, so now I get all of their emails. The other day, one came in about a book called Lies and Sorcery by Elsa Morante. Mediterranean vibes, for fans of Elena Ferrante, and with an unreliable narrator? Sounds right up my alley.
𓇢𓆸 Another book on my wishlist right now is this one.
Sights
𓇢𓆸 There was a rainbow over the Empire State Building on 9/11. It was just one of those New York moments. I came up out of the subway on 14th Street and there was a knot of people taking pictures. Before I huffed and puffed about why the hell anyone would stop right at the top of the subway stairs to take a picture on 14th street, I looked where they were looking. It’s always, always a good idea to look where other people are looking. Except for when it’s a car accident and that causes traffic. I know there were a million pictures of this exact view all over social media on the day, but here’s mine, no filter.
𓇢𓆸 A dog carrying an umbrella. This obviously went in the Joy Journal™. Is it always this rainy in the fall? I know the answer is yes, but it feels like its getting ridiculous at this point.
𓇢𓆸 This beautiful and dead bird on my way to work. It made me feel so sad and so lucky. Not lucky to be alive (though that too), but lucky to have seen it. But it had to die for me to see it. Was I glad it was dead? No of course not, but I got to see it’s polka-dotted chest and the flashing undersides of its wings. And that’s something. The feet did me in.
Sounds
𓇢𓆸 I’ve been bopping to Nanci Griffith, who I had never heard of before. Specifically, her album from 1982 called Poet In My Window. Spotify served it up to me as a “trending album for me.” I’m not sure about the trending part, but it is my vibe. I’m obsessed with the album cover.
𓇢𓆸 By day, I work in recruiting, and one of the candidates I’m working with this month is named Layla. Every time I see her name, “Layla” by Eric Clapton gets stuck in my head. It’s soooo good. Did you know that Layla is about Pattie Boyd, who was George Harrison’s wife before she was Eric Clapton’s wife? And that Harrison and Clapton stayed “friends” even after the latter stole the former’s wife? Harrison used to call Clapton his “husband in law.” Wild times in rock and roll! My lover told me all of that after reading a book on Eric Clapton. Lover, I would never run off with your best friend, no matter how good at guitar he was.
𓇢𓆸 I shamelessly love Hot 100 country music, specifically from the early 2000’s. Bet you haven’t thought about “Big Green Tractor” by Jason Aldean in a while. It just hits.
Tastes
𓇢𓆸 I’m soaking up the last days of clam girl summer before it well and truly becomes bean girl winter. So…more clams <3
𓇢𓆸 The Raising Cane’s finally opened at Astor Place, and I work close enough to get lunch there. It reminds me of Charlottesville, where part of my family lives, so it reminds me of family. Also of college, a time during which I ate a lot of Raising Cane’s. I know it’s not chic or glamorous, or whatever, and I am truly not a supporter of the large-fast-food-chain-ification of NYC, but comfort is comfort.
𓇢𓆸 I had my Fall Equinox dinner party last week. I made this white bean and chard soup, and added sausage because a commenter said that they added sausage, and it was good. Not surprising as sausage is one of life’s greatest joys. Don't have any pics, was having too much fun, but it was a bit hit.
Also general note—chard is in season at the moment, so get some chard. Garlicky chard is my favorite (8 cloves of garlic sliced thin, one head of chard cut into ribbons, sauté).
Wonderings
𓇢𓆸 Are there any slow cookers out there that aren’t totally heinous??? From preliminary research the answer is no. Even the ones that are trying to be cute are so ugly. Why do I even need a slow cooker?? I don’t. It’s just that my new kitchen has so much more cabinet space than my old one, and it’s making me feel like I should buy 5000 new appliances. It’s a good thing all slow cookers are so ugly, otherwise I probably would have ordered one already, and I really don’t need one.
Lessons
𓇢𓆸 Get rid of books on your “to be read” stack! I am a horrible culler across the board, but I’ve done my best during this move. I had to admit to myself that some of those unread books that have been sitting on my shelf for years are simply not going to get read. I released them into the universe (The Strand). If I change my mind, I can always go and buy them back.
𓇢𓆸 More generally on the subject of culling, it has been enormously helpful for me during this move to keep my journal open on the dresser or windowsill while I pack. That way when I come across something that feels sentimental but that I know I don’t need to save, I can make a record of it and say goodbye. Beautiful.
𓇢𓆸 This is so cheesy, but be nice!!!! Always, even when you don't have to be, even and especially when you have the right not to be. Last week, my new downstairs neighbors slipped a note of complaint under my door before I had even moved in. Literally the only thing in the apartment at the time was my bed frame and a half eaten container of chicken fingers in the fridge (fuel for building bed frames). The note included the words “stomping and trudging” and reminded me that my floor was their ceiling…? Duh.
I decided to buy them a crumb cake and write a note right back, sweet as could be, hoping that the treat would make up for any disturbance. They wrote back again—this time on true stationary, and a thank you card at that! A real upgrade from printer paper. Long story short, they love me now. How sweet is it to not have an antagonistic relationship with your neighbors?! Almost as sweet as crumb cake.
“Trigger warnings” made me stop teaching. It is impossible to teach about genocide and war crimes without exposing students to horrific and eye opening material? I feel sorry for today’s college students. When I entered Bard College in 1984, the drinking age was 18, the bookstore sold rolling papers and there were no “speech codes,” “microaggressions,” Title IX star chamber courts, much less “trigger warnings.” I was educated at Bard, not coddled, pandered to, or indoctrinated. The most important parts of my undergraduate education were the tiny classes and full-contact exchanges with intense and intimidating professors. It was impossible to hide in the smoke-filled seminar rooms because we sat around tables. While all of my teachers cared about my education, they did not care about my ego. Back then, students were not treated like customers, and if you complained to administrators they laughed in your face. Instead of inflating me with fraudulent and flatulent “self-esteem,” they hammered me on a Socratic anvil. Over the past two decades, many academics and intellectuals have embraced the lamb’s freedom, and their students have paid the greatest price. Their timid perceptions of comfort and safety are now higher priorities than their education. Colleges and universities should not be self-esteem builders where “student success” is guaranteed. I am thankful that my teachers made me earn my success, because it is meritless if mandated.
A few years back I read Pattie Boyd’s memoir, Wonderful Tonight, and it was SO good! She is such an interesting person and I also love getting all the behind the scenes of some famous musicians. Highly recommend!