get off the hamster wheel
deborah eisenberg, john maus, and your bibliomancy forecast for the week of sept 1
the page of cups, and a paragraph from Deborah Eisenberg’s “Days”":
“I step out, too, to run, but I find that I can’t, and lock into a standstill at the inside of the track, although stopping on the track is, for good reason, absolutely forbidden. My visual field—a wheel of thundering men encircling a space through which little red and blue and green girls are flying—tilts and spins, as in a film.”
the aleatory
I used to operate from the basic assumption that in any difference of opinion between myself and literally anybody, I was incorrect.
In the moment, anyway. Later on, I would feel deeply ashamed and frustrated for ceding reality to someone else. But in the moment of confrontation, I didn’t have it in me, somehow, to see it.
But I can tell you exactly when I stopped running on that particular track: It was the last time J and I went back to look at the ruins of our burned house. We had been told that the Army Corps of Engineers was going to bulldoze everything by the end of the month. We only had one respirator and boiler suit, so J put them on and began poking at the ash from the perimeter. I knew what he was looking for: there was a box of pots from my last ceramics class on a shelf very close to the northern wall, and he was trying to find as many of them as he could. (Turns out there is a very good reason museums are full of ceramics.) I walked around at a distance with my shirt over my mouth, and occasionally took things that he handed me and put them in the trunk of our car, covering my hands with plastic bags so I didn’t touch any of the burned materials directly. I was crying a little bit. The neighbor from across the street came over to say hello.
And then a woman we had never seen before came up on the sidewalk and in a very nosy and entitled way, asked us: “Do you live around here?”
I was stunned. The answer was, well, not anymore. I know that people looted Altadena, but I assume most of the looters didn’t stand around crying while they did it, getting hugs from their former neighbor.
I asked her, “Do you live around here?”
And she said, “Oh yes, I live just a few blocks south of here.” And said something about how there were suddenly a lot of strangers roaming around.
But the funny thing is that, in fact, she was the stranger. I walked around in our neighborhood almost every evening. I knew all the other frequent walkers by sight if not by name. She was the stranger suddenly roaming around. She was one of the lookie-loos she claimed to be looking for. (This is something I try to remind myself of whenever I find myself ready to deputize myself as the protector and lawman of anything.)
It happened that we were done going through the ashes shortly thereafter, and J drove up to her a few blocks on and rolled down his window. He said, “Hey, do you want to see our IDs? Do you want to see proof of residency? Since you’re apparently the one who’s in charge around here.”
That was the end of my automatic deference. Mainly because it was so lopsided and insane.
the forecast
Whatever track you’re running on, just stop. See what smacks into you.
writing prompt
Consider the objects that surround you. Inquire after their innate authority—or lack thereof. Is there something about this chair that is less inherently convincing than that one? Does one of them seem to be pretending, in a way? Are there any objects which seem as if they are playing a very quiet game?
a chune
“The Fear” by John Maus
While I was collecting links for the credits below, I saw that John Maus was canceled a few years ago for being present at January 6. Which made me consider not including this as the chune, even though it was playing on DREAM FM when I woke up this morning (and that is the typical/only criterion for inclusion in this column). But then I read his more recent clarifying statement that gave me the impression that he was there out of curiosity. But his mere proximity to the event was damning enough to permanently alter his entire audience’s opinion of him, in spite of the fact that he issued a statement disavowing racism/fascism/nazis. Although maybe the real poison pill is that he is/was bros with Ariel Pink, who was a much more vocal participant? I don’t have a particularly strong reason to believe him, but I do. I truly hate the degree to which I hear some version of “x hasn’t publicly disavowed [odious belief system], so they must be down with it.” Like, I think that is actually insane and internet-poisoned thinking based on maintaining a superficial purity. Especially when someone has gone out of their way to disavow it. But I still have enough of THE FEAR in me to make me hesitant to include this chune in my who-cares weekly roundup of aura weather. Idk. Maybe I’m totally wrong about this. But I think one of the worst outcomes of algorithmic social media is the creation of a public display layer of belief signaling. And constant surveillance. And “yr fave is problematic.” Sigh.
credits: small spells tarot deck by Rachel Howe
Transactions in a Foreign Currency by Deborah Eisenberg
A Collection of Rarities and Previously Unreleased Material by John Maus
Dear diary, on Ozzy Osbourne’s Hollywood star, someone set up a bunch of black votive candles and black flowers with a tip jar that said: HELP KEEP OZZY’S LEGACY ALIVE! As if those dollars would not immediately buy a bacon-wrapped street hot dog for the kid who set it all up. And yet, as tributes go, I can’t entirely fault it. X Sarah
God, people are such shits.
Miss you, friend. I am presently trapped in second semester grad school but maybe I'll see you in December