In Sum: November
"It’s winter in America, and ain’t nobody fighting because nobody knows what to save."
Well, here we are. That last month we’ve all been waiting for. Both in anticipation for the ending it will bring to this disastrous, destructive year and also in nervous dread for one of the bleakest winters in modern history.
When we think of November, we historically think about the three F’s: family, football, and food. This year’s 11th month, as no one needs reminding, was a sharp left from holiday seasons of yore.
I personally spent my Thanksgiving entirely alone, in my studio apartment in downtown Manhattan. I haven’t had a proper Thanksgiving in five years so it didn’t feel like that big of a deal, but I ended up being pretty taken aback at just how much I underestimated the power of nostalgic dissonance. The stores still had pumpkins, the traditions didn’t change, people swapped vegan substitution recipes, my own mother got to planning a day of meals a week in advance. And I ignored it and kept clocking in to my Zoom meetings and clocking out to my couch.
On Thanksgiving Day I woke up early, said good morning to the two pigeons that have made a home on my fire escape, puttered through my routine of warm lemon water followed by black coffee, and sat down at my desk to write.
This post is part of a new series, “In Sum,” where I summarize my month for you by recounting the little moments that all add up to a life.
In addition, scroll down for a non-inclusive list of What I’ve Read & What I’ve Learned in the lingering, nostalgic, burnt orange month that is November.
In Sum
“Have you had any depression in the last 2 weeks? - nurse on a telemedicine call, 11/2.
The classic screening question where I’m always left debating whether I open the flood gates (“Yes actually, I’ve been unable to find pleasure in anything, anything at all, the world feels dim and when I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is sigh and think, ‘This again?’”) or whether I just pause and purse my lips before a tired, conciliatory “No.”
This morning, the day before the election, as I waited to speak to my doctor for 5 minutes in exchange for an SSRI refill, please, I went with the latter.
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iPhone note:
Man in washington square so casually and nonchalantly wearing red cowboy boots, tucked into his straight leg jeans (!!)
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Rest assured, I still do millennial shit like this:
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My mom sent me an article on the vagus nerve. That is how we communicate these days — I say I’m scared, and she reminds me of the importance of returning to the ‘rest & digest’ stage.
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I was walking down Bowery (most likely another sanity walk that I realize I should take just as the clock strikes 4:30pm and the sun starts racing down, entirely too fast) when I caught a flash out of the corner of my left eye. I turned my head to gaze down East 1st street, and squinted my eyes at a top floor apartment. Another flash - a pause - and then another two in a row. A photoshoot?
As I continued my steady track home, I dreamt of white seamless paper drops, chin propped just-so, camera lenses clicking, creative juices flowing. I dreamt of a horizon that felt all at once exciting, inspiring, and certifiably realizable.
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I glance into the Shoes.com store on Delancey and see a UPS man checking out a pair of red snakeskin pointed loafers. I wonder if he’s on a break and trying to kill time, or if he saw a glint of leathery-red out of the corner of his eye while en route and absolutely had to detour.
His wheely-bag of post is propped next to him on the store floor. He flips the loafer over, examines it from all angles. I think about how nice longing can feel when it’s for something tangible, inconsequential, material, inessential, luxurious even. I am suddenly flooded with warm gratitude for this city, for humanity, for red snakeskin loafers that bring a joyous pop to an otherwise all brown, short-suited, monotonous Thursday.
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A guy steps off the sidewalk, his phone to his ear, and lifts his eyes to an apartment on Elizabeth Street. It’s nighttime, which feels crucial to the romance of the plot developing in my head. Is he trying to reach a lover? Are they not picking up? Is he surprising someone, with the very John Hughes’ inspired grand surprise of ‘Look out your window!’
I watch him nervously bite his lip as he takes his phone from his ear, glances at the screen, and then presses it tighter to his cheek.
Whatever he’s after, I hope he finds it.
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What I’ve Read
“The Downward Spiral: Centrist Dad Ouroboros,” by Dean Kissick for Spike. That title alone should be enough to draw you in, but I’ll leave you with this opener that had me punching the air with a silent YES! before I’d even gotten to the meat of this essay:
Manhattan’s salad bars and clothing boutiques have been boarded up and people have drawn looping hearts and scribbled words like “LOVE” and “HOPE” all over them, again.
Long before this happened, the windows of Chase Bank by Union Square were already filled with hand-drawn curly letters saying, “You Belong Here.” But where do I belong? Inside the Chase Bank? In the windows round the corner they’ve drawn flowers by the tellers’ desks and the promise, “We Are the Keepers of Our Culture.” My friend Victoria once told me, “Capitalism promises me a new society every day.” What kind of society though, is unclear.
“to dream,” Zeba Bay’s Nov 9th entry for her newsletter, Carefree Black Girl. A really refreshing, thoughtful, different take on the day the election results were announced.
“Part of the dream, then, isn’t just happy children frolicking on mountain tops. Part of the dream is white America finally admitting that it failed to keep a promise. Part of the dream is white America actually doing something about it.”
Why Won’t My Friend Text Me Back - on missing people, losing friendships, gaining clarity, and having compassion.
“Covid has obviously eroded or destroyed countless things in all our lives including, for me and perhaps for your friend as well, the ease with which we maintain a lot of our relationships. That vast array of people you talk to somewhat frequently but not every day, the people you have dinner with every few months, the people you would see but not stay with if you are visiting their city. All of those relationships that add immeasurable texture to a life and are predicated on the simple joy of catching up.”
Trying to Be Good is Exhausting — honestly, amen. This one certainly checked my ego & left my brain flip-flopping and re-framing for the entire week after I read it. I don’t know if I totally agree with the harshness of tone (I was an especially raw, tender nerve when reading this, on the morning of Nov 3…) but nonetheless, I found it a valuable read in that it challenged my comfortable retreat into a depressive, isolating spiral.
I suggest continuing to read into the comments thread, which give some very helpful, practical, nourishing advice on how to care for yourself right now. From the comments section: “When you actually start doing things, the good is a lot more tangible.”
Harmony Holiday on Finding Quietness in a Loud World - a beautifully written piece on rest & repose in Black music.
Gil Scott-Heron announces so softly: ‘It’s winter in America, and ain’t nobody fighting because nobody knows what to save.’
What I’ve Learned
About life and design. This site was very soothing and pleasing to my brain post-election day. Streamlined. Organized. Professional. Educational. All for the sake of knowledge. Ahhh.
About Kate Tempest. Should not have taken this long, but I spent multiple days overwhelmed with the amount of inspiration I got from Kate’s spoken word albums on Spotify. When I read that three of Kate’s top obsessions are “the dialogue between artforms, the idea of artists as ‘cultivators of empathy’, and the life of cities,” I knew we were soul people.
Went down a wormhole of ethical consumerism debates. Lots of food for thought.
“What did all of my decades of Ethical Consumerism do to protect these workers and raise their wages? Nothing. My Ethical Consumption couldn’t protect Black and brown people from dying and getting critically ill in far higher percentages than white people during the pandemic. It hasn’t put a dent in climate change or plastic pollution. It couldn’t even protect retail workers, even those employed in “ethical” chain stores like Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, who had to keep working as the virus spread often because they don’t earn enough money to stay home.”
Happy holidays, stay safe, stay warm, stay cozy, stay committed to the in-between and in pursuit of the light at the end of the tunnel.
xx mm