TPO#20: New Year, New Nothing
This is The Purposeful Object, a newsletter by Toronto writer Navneet Alang about the techno-modern and living the good life. It’s been dormant for some time! But we return this issue with: some thoughts on the semantic serenity of wordless YouTube videos; the psychology of to-do apps; and some updates to some "TPO Recommends".
Photo by James Best on Unsplash
I like the word overdetermined. It’s one of those chunky, chewy words that doesn’t have an immediately apparent meaning. Wait, what do you mean overdetermined?
I first came across the term in relation to Freud, who suggested that dreams are overdetermined: that is, instead of having a particular or individual message, they mean multiple things all at once.
An overdetermined thing is thus irreducible, simultaneously multiple -- it refuses to sit still.
Now, not to use a phrase like “we live in an age,” but: we live in an age in which sitting still is hard. More than that, everything feels overdetermined. Awash as we are in ways to interpret things — this TV show is at once an exploration of contemporary feminism, good comedy, bad drama, a meditation on late capitalism, and so on forever — part of the noise of the current moment is that there is too much meaning, too many interpretive frames through which to understand the world.
Things that find a way to somehow cut down on meaning thus feel like a relief. I now often find myself seeking out content that is empty or missing something — content that is, if you’ll forgive me, “meaningless.”
I am not alone in this desire for nothing. Earlier this year in the New York Times, pal Kyle Chayka wrote about nothingness as an emerging aesthetic mode:
This obsession with absence, the intentional erasure of self and surroundings, is the apotheosis of what I’ve come to think of as a culture of negation: a body of cultural output, from material goods to entertainment franchises to lifestyle fads, that evinces a desire to reject the overstimulation that defines contemporary existence.
Perhaps it is unsurprising then that I want something similar -- not exactly nothingness as a mode, but meaninglessness as content.
Most recently, what has fit the bill nicely has been YouTube, a rather perfect venue for nothing. Freed from the traditional need for narrative structure or ordinary hook, nothing finds a natural home in the video sharing site.
My tastes in meaninglessness meander, though if you know me at all, you will be unsurprised to learn that they have something to do with food. There is China Chilli which features cooks across China and Asia stir-frying over and over again; I cannot tell you how many eggs I have watched being cracked into perfectly seasoned woks.
I also love the mindless pleasure of watching someone drive a virtual car across a truncated virtual America, somehow made all the more charming when they follow the rules of the road.
My favourites, though, are a pair of channels which showcase udon and soba noodle houses in Osaka and Kyoto. The clips are mostly wordless, with no narration and only a smattering of text in the shots. They mostly follow a similar basic structure: first, it’s shown how various components are prepared early in the day, and then comes dishes being put together and served. There is often a small evaluation of a dish, but it’s always gentle and positive.
I must be truthful and confess that part of the appeal is a kind of xenophilia, the romance of imagining life elsewhere: sitting in a small, drafty noodle shop on a winter’s day and slurping up some curry udon. It would of course be a mistake to uncritically valorize tradition or the fixity of more culturally homogenous places, for reasons that I hope would be obvious. But it is pleasurable to watch nonetheless.
But I’ve also come to love the tone and tenor of these videos precisely because of their presentness. There is nothing in them to suggest they are meant to be records of something. There is, rather, just a rhythm running through them, a fact highlighted by their sound: the clattering of noodle-making machines, the aggressive swish of freshly cooked udon being chilled and washed, the splash of curry or oyakodon as it hits the bowl. You can just put them on and space out for a while, carried along by the languid pace.
There is in them, too, an ideal of physical labour, depicted not so much as noble, but more simply, good — the practice of making food in a small shop near a train station a useful and meaningful part of life.
As I sit in front of whatever device I happen to be working on these days, I am sometimes struck by the desire to do nothing more than be out in the cold and cooking over an open fire.
Like my enjoyment of the video, it is mostly a projected desire for escape. But to be a bit too cute again, escape is part of self-care. And perhaps part of a set of coping strategies for modern life isn’t simply unplugging for the sake of a reprieve from work or responsibility, but also from semiotics — from interpretation, from the need to make sense. Perhaps there are things — mostly physical, primarily bodily — that you need to just be, and that you need to just be in.
Now, I know - the nerds among you are probably saying “well, Nav, there’s meaning in everything; there is no escape from signification.” And you’re right. But in certain things — these wordless videos, or instrumental music, or the preparation of food — there is an immanence to them: an affective relation that cannot be entirely subsumed by the semantic, and instead can only be experienced. That, more than anything, is the source of their recuperative effect - not that they actually escape the machinations of meaning, but they can offer a temporary off-switch.
And here at the beginning of a new year, sometimes what you need isn’t so much a new start, but just a reminder of simple, little ideas which are nonetheless true.
Good Things
It wouldn’t be TPO without a standup recommendation, so: deadpan, Australian comic Aaron Chen has a bit where he comes out on stage, asks the crowd how’s it going, and then in response to the cheers says “yeah, sick.” Why do I think this the funniest thing in the world? I don’t know. But his sets are solid. The joke about futzing with his dad’s YouTube algorithm is great. Link here.
Since switching over to Spotify post-Rdio (sniff, RIP), my music listening has been sporadic, mostly just a collection of one-offs I shuffle into a playlist simply called “Current.” So discovering new music is super exciting for me — I thought I had lost this. Two bands stick out: Wet Leg, who, let’s be honest, probably have some sort of heavy label/PR push behind them, with the difference in the 2020s being that the avenue of promotion is TikTok, not the press. I don’t care, they’re great: high energy, casually libidinal, fun. Even better IMO are Dry Cleaning, whose post-punk, spoken word vibe sounds like it shouldn’t work but does brilliantly. Video of “Scratchyard Lanyard” is here, which I cannot stop repeating -- "a woman in aviators firing a bazooka"!
Helpful Things
Here is a thing written by Clive Thompson about to-do apps, the psychological conundrum that underpins them, and why for some, paper is actually a better solution than the limitlessness of digital. Some of you probably clicked before you even reached the end of this sentence.
If, however, you find some mix of digital tools works for you, here’s The Sweet Setup on how to use a calendar, with a particular focus on time blocking.
TPO Recommends Updates
An odd part of TPO is “TPO recommends,” a segment born of my susceptibility to direct-to-consumer Instagram brands. But to be a bit responsible about things, I wanted to give you an update on things I’ve recommended in the past.
Fable plates and mugs: I love these, even though they aren’t perfect. They scratch if you too aggressively take a knife to them, though the marks can be scrubbed off. And the mugs are impossible to drink out of without leaving a drip running down the side. But they are pretty and otherwise sturdy, and Fable has some thoughtful, elegant additions to their line — toughened glasses that look ideal for cocktails, and a carafe set that I don’t think anyone needs but looks gorgeous. [Fable]
Vessi shoes - long term, I have to apologize and pull back on my recommendation a bit. Vessi’s primary selling-point of being waterproof does in fact hold up. I have actually a sprayed a hose at my feet and had my socks remain dry. So if you live in say, the Pacific Northweest, these are great in that regard. But they lack support, and even the more robust Weekender models seem less durable than they should be. For waterproof, knockabout, going-to-the-grocery-store shoes, they are fine, but for anything more, there are probably better options. [Vessi]
Casca - I think these might be shoes that finally live up to the hype? Casca makes a big deal about how durable their shoes are, but it seems to actually be true. A year or so in, these shoes still look new, and more importantly still feel solid, supportive, and show very little signs of wear on the soles or elsewhere ,despite us being in a pandemic and that as a result I have been frequently going for, and I quote, stupid little walks for my stupid mental health. Expensive, but so far, justifiably so. [Casca]
That's it for this issue, pals! TPO will continue, like those wordless YouTube videos: without much noise, at a gentle pace, but also hopefully offering you a much-needed reprieve.