the slow and unyielding march of time | episode 22
A few years ago, when I decided I was tired of waiting for my friends to commit to plans and that I was just going to go to Vietnam and Japan by myself, I got some advice from Gary to go to Tokyo during cherry blossom season. “It’s incredible,” he told me, “I don’t care about flowers at all but it’s amazing.” Gary is quite weird but has good taste, so I planned my trip during what was supposed to be the peak of cherry blossom season.
It was a chilly year, and I ended up being a little bit early; the trees were starting to bloom, but they hadn’t hit their peak yet. My every day there had the same cadence; I would wake up in my capsule hostel, I would choose a hipster coffee place in a part of the city I hadn’t explored yet and go there. Once I had had my espresso and thought a little bit about the weirdness of authenticity, I would open up Google Maps on my phone, zoom out and find the nearest park, and then zoom in until I found the cherry blossoms in that park. Then I would walk there, and exult in their beauty until I felt hungry, and then I would try to find something to eat. (I ate a LOT of waffle fish and conveyor belt sushi.)
I love walking through cities. One of my great joys of traveling is picking a place somewhat arbitrarily because it has an interesting name or a lake or a temple and walking there, and then walking back a different way. I love to experience a new city by foot. There are always secret beauties to explore.
Last weekend, I went for a walk with some friends in Green-Wood cemetery. I know some are adverse walking in cemeteries because, I dunno, they watched too much Buffy and worry about vampires popping out of the graves. Probably right now, many folks don’t want to think about death and dying. Green-Wood is huge and lovely, and it’s spring. There were so many gorgeous trees in bloom; magnolias, dogwoods, and yes, cherry blossoms. I went with three friends, all of whom have been fully vaccinated; I, lagging behind, had my second shot on Monday.
Even though we’ve all been to Green-Wood before, we set off towards the Sunset Park side, the southern side of the cemetery, which the manicured lawn gets hilly. For awhile we headed in the direction of bag-pipe music; when we finally came across the bag-piper, they were just walking along the path, playing their dirges. There are little ponds and monuments and lots of interesting individual graves, stories told and untold in a brevity of words. There was a giant phallic monument for the unfortunately named Edward Cummings. (We get it, buddy!)
It was really wonderful. If you’ve got some blooming outdoor space you can get to soon, and your allergies and anxiety can handle it, I really recommend it.
Debris:
Whew babies it has been awhile! I keep wanting to write, but for awhile there, days were sliding into the next with little to no friction and there was a general gray dullness about me. But I missed you!
The second shot made me sooooo tired but sleeping 10+ hours a night for multiple nights felt amazing.
I’m still watching the X-Files but I find the ongoing conspiracy plot to be so stupid that I am struggling at times. I’ll keep on, but my pace has definitely slowed. (Perhaps because it’s also possible to do things outside again, finally.)
I got a bike flat in the worst possible place in the greater NYC area, I think! Rebecca and I had to walk 4 miles to the bike place. Thanks Rebecca!
Since I’m reminiscing about Tokyo, another thing I did every day was go to the public onsen that was a 5-minute walk from my hostel. It was a true onsen, meaning it was fed by natural springs. I love communal bathing so much! Also they had an electric bath which has mild electric currents running through it which is w-i-l-d. Also I think I had to duck down an alley and go into some very anonymous looking storefront to get there.
What I’ve Been Reading:
I’m about to start reading Empire of Pain by Patrick Radden Keefe because I feel some sort of sense of obligation about reading about the Sackler family and their monstrous deeds, since I went to school with Annie and David Sackler. I recently googled Annie (Marianna now) Sackler and she bought a 12 million dollar house in SF and then sued the person who bought the empty lot next door for having the audacity of wanting to develop their own property. Very relatable stuff from my former peers!
Finished:
The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey:
Gailey also wrote Magic For Liars which I liked but was distressed by; I think I liked Echo Wife less but will think about the implications more. Evelyn is a super-smart, talented, and ambitious scientist. She’s unlocked the secret to creating grown-up clones with fully realized memories and feelings. She’s also completely closed off to her own feelings, has a mean as hell temper, and the worst ex-husband you could possible imagine. He wants to keep the women in his life small, docile, and ambitious only in the aim of his needs and desires. He doesn’t show up directly in the narrative, but as the book goes on, we learn more and more about his treachery and cowardice through the lens of how he hurts the women around him. It’s haunting.
Gideon the 9th by Tasymn Muir:
Ok, technically this was a re-read of Gideon the 9th, but it was chosen for my YA book club (it’s not YA, but it does have a teen protagonist so, you know, whatever) and my brain retained the shape but not the details of the book. I don’t love everything about the story, but I *love* Gideon so much! I feel like … there’s not a lot of not very bright (but very funny), brawny as hell women characters. Especially not ones that are portrayed as positively as Gideon is. She’s rad, and would be a great hang, and being able to live in her skin for ~500 pages (it’s long!) is super fucking fun! (Oh also it’s like … a fantasy book that happens in space and there is a lot of necromancy and body-horror kind of stuff, so not for everyone.)
Harrow the 9th by Tasymn Muir:
I’ve known for a long time that I think in words, not pictures, and so sometimes when an author has a really clear vision and describes the hell out of something, it actually overly confuses my brain because it can’t hold onto details to that granularity, especially if it’s trying to figure out a complicated plot at the same time. Anyway, I benefited from a re-read of Gideon because I could focus on the details more, knowing essentially what would happen, and I’m pretty sure that’ll be the case with Harrow as well. It has some very ambitious structure choices; Muir uses second-person pronouns for a good chunk of the book, and while there is decent reason for it both thematically and plot-wise, it took a long time to pay off. There were some big twists and reveals that happened, in my opinion, too late in the game, and led to the need for pages and pages of explained exposition. So I didn’t love it even though it’s my favorite thematic undercurrent (trauma!), but Muir is definitely a skilled storyteller and I’m very hopeful she can stick the landing in the final book of the trilogy. It’s also just hard not to read this after reading Gideon. (I LOVE GIDEON.)
Life of the Party by Olivia Gatwood:
I’ve been feeling the need to read poetry recently which, while not unprecedented, is certainly unusual. I love reading the occasional poem, especially out loud, but it’s been awhile since I wanted to read something that felt like music. I was having a particularly bad day a few weeks ago, and decided to treat myself to a trip to Greenlight books, and this is one of the books I picked up. It’s sad and creepy and beautiful; an exploration, of sorts, of how poetry can dip into and pick up the themes of true crime. True crime doesn’t typically hold a lot of interest to me, but in Gatwood’s hands, those themes were spun it into interlocking webs of absolutely haunting poems.
Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay:
I *loved* Patron Saints. Jay, a Filipino-American teen easing into his senior slump before heading off to college, learns that his once-bestie cousin in the Philippines has died. The details around Jun’s death are unclear, and Jay hasn’t been in good touch for ages. Jay finds himself strongly affected by the death of his cousin, and on spring break convinces his family to let him travel to the Philippines to try to put together the pieces of Jun’s death. Going there requires him to navigate his police-chief uncle’s stern and strict gaze, the state of President Duterte's war on drugs, and the layers of his cousin with whom he was once close.
The Groom will Keep His Name by Matt Ortile:
A fairly typical memoir laced with social/racial observations. I thought a lot of his analysis was pretty superficial and self-absorbed. (I guess it’s a memoir, after all.) Also … he got a lot of basic facts wrong, which was a bit jarring. There was some historical stuff about the history of American colonialism in the Philippines that was interesting, though.
Thanks for hanging in there, my lovely friends. I hope you’ve all gotten your vaccination shots, or will soon.
Here’s to finding some hidden joy this week. I love you all so much.
davida