Less Terrible by Comparison
a list of unsolicited recommendations
Hello friends and enemies! I’m crawling out of my seasonally affected hole to bring you a little year-end round up of things that have enchanted or haunted me this year.
There is obviously a tilt towards the feeling I have in the end of the year. Although I have felt hopeful and energized much of the year, these months are always characterized for me by darkness, by receding into the self (a dangerous place to reflect!), and by embracing melancholy and stagnancy.
I’ll keep the list short because literally no one asked for it. Let me know what kinds of things have you been curating from your daily life to pacify the wild or wilting self.
Here are a few things that have been on my mind lately. None of them are particularly new, I don’t think.
The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones
My social media algorithms love to feed me lists of underrepresented authors’ work. I picked this book out of one of those lists because it sounded intriguing and had an available audiobook from my library. I don’t read much horror, but I love when scary stories leave you pondering whether it was psychological or supernatural horror. I love that the title suggests a dark phrase, but also hope that these men will be redeemed if they make amends with the past, or maybe that one of the group of friends will find a way to atone for the others.
I would say that melancholy is my prominent emotion in the fall and winter. Nothing is wrong, and that seems to be a part of what is disconcerting about it. How could a shift in darkness be this moving?
Sometimes in this mood it is nice to lean in and feel some cathartic sadness and fear. It might even make me more appeased with the stability of my life, even when it bores me or I am depressed. It makes me feel less terrible by comparison. Check it out!
“Rehab” by Amy Winehouse
Disclaimer: If you have read insightful things about Amy Winehouse, maybe skip this section.
For no apparent reason, “Rehab” by Amy Winehouse has been pulling at me again. It’s pulled me down into her work that I forgot I ever listened to but can somehow sing by heart. Is it weird to ask if people who are younger these days know about this song? I feel like it was instantly timeless to me when I first heard it.
I was listening to the top 40 radio station with my dad. We drove down the main drag in my small Idaho town on one of those grey days where the sun shines, but the slush from the road is flung onto every untainted thing by splashing tires and sloshing boots bring the muck indoors onto clean floors.
I remember my dad scoffing at the lyrics. Not just ‘no’, but “No, no, no.” And what did rehab mean anyway? Something not good, I gathered. Ridiculous and irresponsible to have something like that on the radio. This was back in the time when you had to remember the names of songs you heard until you were around a computer and you could search for it. I often failed at this memory game.
When I got home I searched for the music video, one finger on the mouse to toggle to another tab if someone walked behind me and saw what I was watching. I put one headphone in.
I couldn’t make sense of what I saw. I was missing so many of the cultural touchpoints that made the video make sense. I was overwhelmed by the placelesness of the shots. The beautiful burnt colors of the costumes and sets, the horns, the sheen of sweat on the band, all their yearning. She was a woman to me, mystifying and pleading but powerful and attractive even in her plight.
Watching the video now I’m struck by her youth. She was just so good and around 23 when she refused to go to rehab. I can’t help compare her to me then, how I deferred to people with much less influence than the ones she was wrestling with. What a strange and punishing world sometimes, huh? I was inspired that you could be so refreshed instead of wary of something different. She was just a girl fighting against a feeling I know is hard to shake.
When you listened to her sing it’s easier to believe someone could love you for the person you can’t even see that you are, something strange but overwhelmingly desirable. It also reminds you of the responsibility you have to other people because of the damage that’s almost easy to do. I relate so much to that beautiful girl in that white room in one of the final shots of the video. I was so jealous of her being surrounded by all those music makers like her own emotions personified. I felt familiar in that crowded, coarse, prickly feeling where you all seem to end up singing the same song to take your mind off the raking of claustrophobia.
Drop D’Issey by Issey Miyake and Encre Noir L’Extreme by Lalique
I’m the type of person that if I am feeling some type of way, it seems to bleed into every facet of my life. The jewelry that feels natural on me, the textures of the clothes I can stand, the slowness of my emotional movement, and the scents that I surround myself with.
I’ve been favoring two scents in particular this dark season.
The first is drop d'issey by Issey Miyake. I wanted a lilac perfume for a while. It’s my home state flower. It’s a very evocative scent for me. Although this is not at all the hot summer day lilac that I remember so well. That smells like a fresh gust of air on my sweaty face when I was a young child. My siblings and I were hot from mowing the lawns of my dad’s apartments, a tiger’s blood snow cone dangled before us as a carrot. It smells like a brief period of summer when I would bring branches of the trees back from our outing to my mom to display in her nicest vase.
This is like that memory if you read about it while you drank a hot creamy drink in a hushed cafe after you’ve taken a warm soapy bath.
The second is Encre Noir L’Extreme by Lalique. I bought the “extreme” version by accident. From what I’ve read it’s much smokier, woodier and less green.
I had a friend who worked in Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park. During the winter months, the Old Faithful Inn was inaccessible due to snow. The majority of guests were housed during those months in the Snow Lodge. I remember he told me about standing alone in the empty lodge. No glimmering lights. No violinist on the second story mezzanine balcony, nor musician at the grand piano. The giant fireplace was cold and brushed clean. The wooden floors were muted in the darkness. I feel like I’m there when I smell Encre Noir L’Extreme. It feels still, dusty, like you could smell it coming down from the rafters as the wooden structure expands and contracts in the dazzling winter sun, like the thin layer of heat you trap in the sweater between your coat and the shirt within, like a pen writing a poem about loss.
Both of what characterized the vibe of these scents to my mood now is the quietness of them both. They both require closeness to appreciate. They both feel like you have to take a shallow breath to understand.
The Witch (2015)
Anytime it gets dark, the script for this movie seems to rise to the surface of my subconscious. If you’ve seen this, you know the lines I’m talking about.
I am going to see Nosferatu but it'll be after the new year. I heard it was Robert Eggers and it was hard for me not to want to see it. I’m not a big movie person and I don’t like gore too much, but I have been thinking about The Witch so much lately, and I love vampire stuff. I’ll update you if it gets me going.
Regardless, watch this movie if you haven’t. It’s disconcerting and somehow you want it all to go wrong so you can watch it. Hyper-fixate on it more here.
The Road by Cormac Mccarthy
This book had such an intense hold on me for so long it’s hard to put it into words. It fits this vibe of darkness very appropriately. I mostly refer to it to link you to two very interesting articles I read recently concerning the author.
This is Augusta Britt’s account of her relationship to the author and this is about the author of that profile’s backlash in the wake of its publication.
I think that is plenty of recommendations and reviews for now!
I would encourage you to again take seriously the things that bring you joy. It doesn’t make you a try hard. These are complicated and trying times. It’s hard to know how to do the right thing amidst a world of terrible choices. We have to find responsible ways to keep ourselves more able to help other people and then to actually help them.
All this talk of hyper fixation in relation to neurodivergence pulls focus from how good it can feel to hyperfocus. To be stuck in a loop of a song or the preoccupation with the plot of a book even when you are going about your actual life. And sharing those joys with others. These are things worth fighting for. Enjoy your preoccupations and thanks for reading!
Thanks for sharing, literally.