bittersweet and a taco treat
cellophane like holographic hydrangeas
dust and neon
For rootless 20-somethings, each national shock felt intimate, rattling their love lives and careers. Many young adults could not accept that their personal struggles were just ripples of a large-scale social dislocation. So each New Year’s, they blamed themselves. In a Jan. 1, 1859, entry in her journal, 19-year-old Mollie Sanford, stuck on a Nebraska homestead in the middle of a recession, castigated herself for not being “any better than I was one year ago.”
In this vintage clip, filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky rests on a tree—like Buddha, Thoreau or Yoda—and offers sage advice. In our world of constant stimulation, instant information, endless holiday parties, it’s easy to sideline the importance of quality solitude. The ability to be alone stirs up feelings that Louis CK expresses as “forever empty”.
Love this little clip.
I dreamt I was hanging with C. We seemed younger, like preteen BFFs, and we were on vacation in New York City. Where we lived when not on vacation I don’t know. We wandered around, gushing at everything, so excited to be in it. My dad was with us, chaperoning. We walked by a trinkets store on Grand St. in East Williamsburg, and I felt like I had walked by it day after day. C said there was a necklace she’d been eyeing in there - 2 necklaces, actually. So we went in. Rows of necklaces faced the window. All were chains or leather cords with a single geode or crystal chunk at the bottom. C said, “These two are my favorite,” and she showed me a cord with a tear-drop shaped geode about the size of a deck of cards — thick and heavy for something worn around the neck. The geode was blue and when she flipped it over, its other side was like glitter. She showed me the bottom, which had two small fangs, like baby vampire teeth. My dad chimed in from a distance, “That’s where you feed it.”
C showed me the second necklace, a milky white pendant. This one wasn’t glittery, but it still had the teeth, teeth guarding a small orifice leading to the geode’s insides. C went off somewhere. My dad bought the necklaces and something else — a magnet with a witty epigram or famous quote on it? Something he would never, ever buy in real life. He said he had to give it to ____. Of the two necklaces I chose the white for myself. It wasn’t as stunning, but I liked that it was neutral. It would go with anything. I assumed that my dad had bought food for the geodes, though I didn’t know what it was. I imagined tiny, irregular pebbles, like Nerds candy, in a velvet drawstring pouch. I waited for C, and I wondered what the pendant’s teeth felt like against the wearer’s chest — shifting and poking, a reminder that the thing was always there.