sickness consumptions + 2 stories about the fall

This week, I got hit with a wave of sickness that most certainly came from Zach and his kid-germ-profession. So, I’m working through waves of exhaustion and fatigue, hoping this doesn’t last too long. Anyway here are some things I’ve recently consumed + two starts of a story below.

• The presidential debateI thought it was a strong showing by Harris, but like that’s not surprising. I was incredibly disappointed that, again, she seems unwilling to strongly support Palestinian lives or call for an end to Israel’s genocide, but we live in a horrible society so…

• The Execution of All ThingsI listened to this album because Eva Hendrix from Charly Bliss mentioned it as one of her 10/10 albums. I think I agree. There are a lot of great lyrics in the songs but some of my favorites are:

  • From a Better Son/Daughter: “When your heart was open wide/And you loved things just because/Like the sick and the dying”

  • From a Better Son/Daughter: “And you'll be better and you'll be smarter/And more grown up and a better daughter/Or son, and a real good friend/And you'll be awake, you'll be alert/You'll be positive though it hurts”

  • From The Good that Won’t Come Out: “I think I'll go out and embarrass myself/By getting drunk and falling down in the street/You say I choose sadness/That it never once has chosen me/Maybe you're right”

  • From The Execution of All Things: “Someone, come quickly/This place was built for moving out”

  • From So Long: “There it goes, I can tell/You're gonna keep your eyes to the ground/Waiting for something to finally come around/Tell you what you knew that you weren't wrong”From Spectacular Views: “In steep cliffs, rocks all piled up/Mysteries of your passing luck/And ages pass, shells and bits of bone/Forming new limestone/To give things their turn”

  • From With Arms Outstretched: “Now, some days, they last/longer than others/but this day by the lake went too fast/and if you want me, you better speak up/I won’t wait".”

• Young Mungo I started this forever ago but put it down for a bit and just recently picked it back up. I really like Douglas Stuart’s writing style, it makes the book a real joy to read.

• Slow Horses Season 4If you’re not watching Slow Horses you should be. It feels like the biggest sleeper hit of the modern TV age. Gary Oldman’s performance alone is so perfectly pathetic and grimy and the whole cast of misfit intelligence officers works without being too on the nose.

• English TeacherIt’s great. It’s not perfect but the episodes are short and worth the watch, especially if you like Brian Jordan Alvarez

• Shogun I started half-watching this before and restarted it after their Emmy wins. Turns out if you’re actually paying attention to what’s happening on screen, it’s a lot better!

• Simpsons season 3-4Do you know how much of our modern lexicon comes from the Simpsons? Yoink came from them! A little column A a little column B! Say the quiet part out loud!!

On the first frost of fall, Lyndsey picks you up and you drive around looking for Christmas gifts for the fifth woman she’s ever loved. It’s gray and slightly wet; the clouds hang over every inch of the sky, collaborating on a sinister plot of snow and ice.

Lyndsey listens to New Song and asks you what gift you give someone for Christmas when you’ve only been dating for five months. “A candle,” you say, not missing a beat. “Or something small and consumable: a bath bomb or chocolates.”

“I always thought it should be sentimental,” She says, and you think she might be right, but then again, you’ve never been that great of a gift giver anyways.

Lyndsey is tall, muscular, and full of confidence. She struts down streets and spends her time happily alone, reading or watching TV, or occasionally flirting with women she knows could never love her.

“Sentimentality is great,” you tell her. “But too much too soon scares people off.””I think that’s just a you thing,” She says. “Or maybe a gay man thing. Shit, sorry if that’s offensive.””Nah, not offensive. If anything, probably true.”

You crank up the heat and try to soothe your continually cracking lips and hands with chapstick and lotion. Outside a few flakes have started falling—a rarity for this part of Texas.

“If you’re going purely sentimental then,” you say. “It has to be personalized.””Like what?””Well,” you hesitate before continuing, wondering if you should let her know your sappy side so soon. “I once handwrote an ex a letter, outlining everything I loved about him: his smile, his eyes, and the way he did the dishes or folded clothes.” “And how did that go?””He left me four months later for a professional trainer with a podcast.””Brutal.” She tried to hold in her laughter. “But you probably dodged a bullet there. It’s my rule that you can never date someone with a podcast.””Sarah has a podcast,” you remind her. ”Fuck, that’s right.”Near the last day of winter the weather snaps and blankets Texas in a thick layer of ice and snow so bad it knocks the power out. Fearing the worst, Peter and you wrap yourselves in thick layers of scarves and oversized coats and attempt the long walk to Louis’ house, nestled near a hospital and perpetually safe from the rolling blackouts.

Louis’ warm house invites you and the first thing you notice is the smell of cooking onions. So many of you are here now: huddled in the kitchen rolling dough, cutting vegetables, and searing meat. You are preparing for a ceremonial feast, something grand enough to ward against he future cold.

Rachel hugs you and thanks you for coming, ushering you into the kitchen, throwing an apron over you, and separating you from Peter—already roped into an endless conversation. You work with her to prepare pies, and your slender fingers make quick work of the lattice patterns. “Lauren told me,” Rachel says. “That you and Peter are thinking of moving North." ”Yeah you say,” finishing one pie and moving on to the next. “Ironically to get away from the heat."”Well,” She says. “We’ll all miss you if you leave.””I know. Me too. And nothing is set in stone just yet.” You press the dough out onto the countertop, sprinkling your hands and rolling pin in a thin layer of powder before continuing to press and roll. “And we’ll all see each other if I do move. I’m sure of it.”

You aren’t sure of it.

Once, when you were still in college, a boy you were dating talked about starting his own holiday traditions. In his dreams, he imagined picking a destination and renting a big house, inviting everyone he knew to stay, free of charge, provided they could pay for their travel expenses. It was the type of plan you make when you’re young and carefree and trying hard to shape the world into the version of it you see when you are sleeping.

People’s priorities change. And staying in touch is harder than it seems. Parts in motion, that’s how Louis used to describe it: a piece of complex machinery always whizzing and whirring in intricate ways. If you move one thing the wrong way, everything falls apart.