Five Nice Things
A collections of recent moments that distracted or inspired
March cakes
Locals - orders for March open today, and as ever you’ll get early access, starting at 10am, by clicking here. Next month’s menu features some of my favorite flavors - roasted strawberries, cajeta, coconut sugar, yuzu, kumquats, and caramelized honey.
Five Nice Things
A few weeks ago I arrived at a meeting of my book club in a dark mood. Chatting with the other members, it was apparent that the feeling was universal. Despite glowing economic reports on the front pages of the national papers, everyone was feeling financially pinched. The international news is unfathomably dark. Even the upcoming Mardi Gras celebration wasn’t enough to lighten our collective spirits.
Like practically everyone, when I’m depressed it's hard to hold on to the parts of my job that I love, and my creative practice feels sluggish. The other day, the writer Emily Sundberg was doing an AMA in her Instagram stories, and someone asked her the best way to get a writing job in New York. Her response? “The most important quality I look for and that most people look for when hiring is people who are excited to work a lot, that they’re honest and trustworthy, and that their ideas and references come from places other than the internet”. The last part struck me cold. I am chronically online, and I’m beginning to hate it. Coupled with the general malaise, I’ve been hungering for something to feel inspired by, and it feels like I can’t afford to wait for it to come the natural way (i.e., oozing up from some primordial pit that I refuse to examine closely). I definitely haven’t been finding it in doomscrolling.
As the book club wound to a close, we discussed what the next theme should be, and someone (sorry if it was you and you’re reading this, I can’t remember who proposed it but definitely bug me in the Whatsapp about it) suggested we present a slide deck on whatever hasn’t sucked for us lately: a selection of nice things. Pop psychology implies we can improve our mood by making lists of what we are grateful for. I don’t want to veer into toxic positivity, but I was intrigued. And so, for the past few weeks, I’ve been noting the (offline) moments that have stirred something in me - some concrete suggestions, some fragments, that have reminded me that a whole world exists outside the darkness in my phone, and that making things in that world can feel good. Here are five nice things:
A lost memory, recovered: do you remember the candy necklaces we’d get from time to time as kids - a string of smarties worn as a choker? Do you remember the feeling of pulling the necklace up into your mouth and crunching on the beads? What a wild thing to do! I remember watching a classmate share hers with her friends - the other girls coming up to her for a nibble at her neck- so intimate. I have no idea why it took me so long to realize I’m gay.
Recently, my book club chose Pure Color by Sheila Heti. I’ve been having a hard time reading lately, so I chose to listen to it at work. I actually don’t listen to books much when I’m baking - it feels too much like I’m splitting my focus, and I find myself constantly having to rewind because I’ve missed plot points. Pure Color was an exception, partially because nothing much happens. The prose is so spare as to be childlike. I still can’t quite tell if I liked it. It at times frustrated me, and moved me, and sometimes I had to pause it and let myself really think about what she’s saying: about art, and the role of the critic, and how grief inhabits the body. There's a very long section where the protagonist becomes a leaf and meditates on dark matter. I can’t quite tell if this is a recommendation, but it was a strange, pleasant way to spend a prep day.
Hannah and her ham.
My friend Hannah threw the second annual Ham Party for Lundi Gras. She’ll buy a whole Benton country ham, decorate a float, and parade it around the neighborhood. I made a papier mache ham hat for the occasion and other folks dress in shades of pink and red. On a lark, her neighbor hired the New Orleans Pelicans mascot to come to the celebration. If you’re not familiar, our NBA team mascot is an giant, uncanny baby, complete with an oversized diaper and a haunting, glazed stare. It is hideous. It is magical. We strolled around the neighborhood in its demented company as people gazed on in wonder. Folks lined up to take pictures with it, the celebrity king cake baby. Later, when the baby toddled away back to her neighbor’s house to re-assume its human form, we learned that the young man in the costume wept as he removed its head. It was his last day as the king cake baby and he was moved to tears by the camaraderie of the ham party.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how to repair fragmented focus, and accidentally stumbled onto a solution that worked shockingly well: sewing while listening to Philip Glass. For the first time in what feels like years I seamlessly drifted into a flow state and lost three whole hours. A dream! My family has been so busy lately that I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to try the experiment again, but I’ve been making a point to try and set aside at least a half hour when I get home to prep my next sewing project: assembling the pattern, cutting the pieces, and studying the instructions. Next day off I hope to try again with a different composer (if you have a favorite contemporary composer, let me know!).
A few Thursdays ago, I picked up my weekly bucket of flowers from my friend Megan Bayha, who runs a small organic farm in the 6th ward near my house. She just started growing tulips for the first time, and I was picking up the very first of them to open. It was February first, and the tulips were a deep, brilliant scarlet. As I carried the bucket to my car, her neighbor pulled up in a small sedan and rolled down the window.
He asked, “Are those tulips? From Megan?”
“Yes!” I answered.
His face broke open in the widest, sweetest smile. “I’ve never seen her grow those before. Those are my favorite.”
those tulips next to that red tub and the window glass bricks like wow what a lovely sight ! thanks for writing this ♥️
Philip Glass good.