Dark woods

Small rays of light

Dear friend,

What a hollow thing to say at a time as dark as this, but here it is still, in all sincerity: I hope you’re doing well.

A few days ago my friend Cleo reminded me that when the macro is horrible, the micro needs to be wonderful. It’s a perfect, simple description of what I have been trying to do; finding little pockets of peace and comfort.

Some things that have been helping:

• Nice coffee. This is not a new thing; I hardly ever shut up about coffee. Cleo also recently gifted me some maple sugar (actually she mailed it all the way from Vermont so it’s more serious than I’m conveying here) and just a teaspoon of that in my double shot of espresso, with steamed and lightly foamed milk, and I’ve got a cup that feels like a little treat. If the weather allows, I take it up to the building’s rooftop and sit quietly while the light changes from blue to morning.

• A morning walk around the block. This usually happens after the coffee, or sometimes with the coffee. It’s just a little turn outside, for the air and the feeling of coming back to life after the night. It’s a good meditation and I’ve been grateful to not crowd my brain with digital noise first thing in the morning. The birds are much nicer company.

• Proper pajamas. I think this is something everyone else figured out long ago but recently my aunt gifted me a beautiful set of linen pajamas and my life has been changed. Wearing something specifically for the occasion of sleeping, in a cut and fabric that feels good, has been such a simple joy. I’m not saying that I’ve been completely cured of the very old t-shirt and shorts. They have their place. I’m just saying that this has been a revelation. The downside here is that I now have a whole new category of spending that I need to control.

• Taking the time to moisturize my whole body. Every day. It takes less than five minutes and the payoff is hard to overstate. I’ve been devoted to this body oil since 2016, especially when layered over a lightweight hydrating formula like this current favorite. (You actually don’t need any of these things at all. I just like recommending things, it’s my curse and gift).

• Saying yes to plans after work. Especially now that the days are so short, it’s very easy for me to feel like my days are just work and then the evening obligations to be ready for work again the next day. I don’t want to limit my living to just the weekend, and it doesn’t have to be some big thing; I check my library, my favorite community theatre (Edmonds Driftwood Players), the bookstore (Elliot Bay), the movies and that gives me a general awareness of things I could go to if I so choose. It’s very low stakes, very casual.

• Getting dressed, doing my hair, wearing my jewelry, etc. Who knew that if you took the time to put yourself together every day you actually feel like you’re put together? It is such a fortifying feeling. The time I take to construct myself every morning has been worth it in how it sees me through the rest of my day, whether or not I go anywhere.

The media:

• Last Monday I took a nap, which is unlike me but it didn’t seem like I needed to consume much media that day. And after my nap, I watched a few episodes of Twin Peaks. Then I watched Interview with the Vampire. You know, the classics. This was the only media that mattered to me that day.

• I miss Instagram but I am also repulsed by it. I miss taking photos and writing little notes for my friends. I miss thinking about my day as a story, with a beginning, middle, and end. It feeds a part of my brain that really loves storytelling. And it goes without saying that I miss interacting with my friends. The silly jokes, the passing around of dumb things that make us laugh. I miss seeing their stories and knowing who made soup and who went out for a drink and who really loved the sunset. I do not miss the noise. I really, really do not miss Reels. I don’t miss aggressively loud and annoying music set to static posts. I don’t miss the ads. I don’t miss the unrelenting doom. So I don’t know what to do about this conflict. On Bluesky I have found a perfect home for my uncontrollable need to yap. It reminds me of the early days of twitter, when I was a menace who had a lot to say about everything. I have found a small community of people who love the things I love, and re-discovering fandom again after all these years has felt really wonderful. I am and have always been and will always be just a wall of text, so it suits me perfectly. But it’s no replacement for Instagram. Yet every time I think about downloading that app again, I see zuckerberg’s face. And that is a potent deterrent. So I don’t know what I’ll do yet.

• I read this article twice this week because it spoke so strongly to me. I know I’ve said this somewhere here before, probably more than once, but boredom is an essential need that has been stripped from us. Every waking moment is not supposed to be filled with an external stimulant. We have to allow boredom. I don’t need a playlist for doing the dishes. I don’t need a podcast for my walk. I don’t need to have something playing in the background while I’m doing a mundane and boring task. Boredom is when the mind can wander, when it can rest. I wish more people knew how to be bored.

• I watched this episode of Be My Guest with Ina Garten and Bobby Flay during my flight home from Nashville last week, and as soon as I got home I made the pasta with anchovy butter. I used bucatini because it’s my favorite long pasta and I think it was the right move. I’m just saying, the pasta shape doesn’t matter. Follow your heart. The star here is the anchovy butter and more chives than you may initially imagine. It’s so simple and it’s so good. I’ve made it two more times since.

• The Room Next Door was a beautiful film that left me wondering why a filmmaker as incredible as Pedro Almodóvar wouldn’t just hire an English-speaking writer to partner with him so the dialogue rose to the occasion. Or why he didn’t just make it in Spanish and spare us all the awkwardness. Visually, everything about it is mesmerizing. The colors, the frames, the choreography of it all. But the dialogue is like cold water to the face every time somebody speaks.

• I’m reading too many books right now but one that seems relevant to mention here is Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov. It’s a book I’ve avoided for many years because I got in my head about it. I’m not even sure why. But then one day last week I picked it up and I am glad I did. (I’m guessing you don’t care to know about my journey of reading Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles all over again but on the off chance that you do, I’m currently in the middle of The Tale of the Body Thief and I am reminded that writing fiction is permission to be as unhinged as possible).

All there is left to do is to survive, to help each other survive, to keep record of our existence, to look even when it’s hard.

“i am on the dark side always / the side of my daughters / the side of my dark sons”

- Lucille Clifton

Hang in there. Thank you for being here.

Lidiya