✶ Prose
Excerpt from “NOTES in NO ORDER” from Notes on My Dunce Cap by Jesse Ball
When it is possible for any of us to simply go and sit somewhere in the grass, and when it is such a delightful thing to do, to go and sit in the grass, whether by oneself or with others, then it is important to remember that anytime we think about teaching, or indeed, about any other activity—that we do it instead of sitting somewhere in the grass. We are passing up on the joy of solitude, and all its virtues and pleasures. Therefore, it is crucial that what happens when we teach be of the same value as time spent alone. And that is true both for ourselves and for those we teach. If you ever find yourself feeling that the time is somehow a trial, that it is something to be endured, and that you would rather be alone, then perhaps something has gone wrong. It is likely time to reconsider such things as the space of the classroom and the costume of the teacher. By that I mean where and how you teach, and whom you are when teaching. None of these things are fixed in stone.
Perhaps some of you are saying, well, fine, that is all well and good, but how to construct an experience, any experience that is the equal of solitude? How can a reasonable pedagogical situation even be created in the first place? The world is full of randomness, collisions, coincidences. Memory, sight, and fortune conspire and so it happens that wandering about alone is utterly enchanting. How can we as teachers compete with the essentially riotous and fathomless fabric of basic existence? In essence—how can it be that we can even begin to assume this posture: that we should be listened to, attended to, looked to?
I will not answer that question fully, because it is a very difficult one. What I will say is that life is constantly presenting us with obstacles, and for some people (indeed for all of us at times) habits of thought make those obstacles impassable. Then it is perhaps a reasonable thing for such a person to take some time away from solitude, however painful it might be, and work to disentangle themselves with the help of a teacher.
✶ Poem
Boy Breaking Glass by Gwendolyn Brooks
To Marc Crawford
from whom the commission
Whose broken window is a cry of art
(success, that winks aware
as elegance, as a treasonable faith)
is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed première.
Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament.
Our barbarous and metal little man.
“I shall create! If not a note, a hole.
If not an overture, a desecration.”
Full of pepper and light
and Salt and night and cargoes.
“Don’t go down the plank
if you see there’s no extension.
Each to his grief, each to
his loneliness and fidgety revenge.
Nobody knew where I was and now I am no longer there.”
The only sanity is a cup of tea.
The music is in minors.
Each one other
is having different weather.
“It was you, it was you who threw away my name!
And this is everything I have for me.”
Who has not Congress, lobster, love, luau,
the Regency Room, the Statue of Liberty,
runs. A sloppy amalgamation.
A mistake.
A cliff.
A hymn, a snare, and an exceeding sun.
✶ Picture
Remedios Varo, Creation of the Birds, c. 1957
✶ Five Things
Somewhat related to the Remedios Varo painting above: “Surrealism’s Beating Heart” by Reed McConnell, an essay about Leonora Carrington and Unica Zürn “leaving musehood behind.”
Texas Mutual Aid Directory — although power has been mostly restored in Texas, people are still struggling with the effects of the outage and are still in need of drinking water, food, and other basic items. Send some money to these mutual aid organizations if you’re able!
At the beginning of the pandemic I started listening to audiobooks in order to fall asleep and it’s become a very comforting habit. In general, I recommend it (get audiobooks for free on the Libby app!). But I also just finished listening to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and would like to remind everyone of the scene in which Alice comes across the cards painting the roses red, and how wild that scene is in the book and in the movie as well:
I’ve gotta give a big shoutout to the EN(BA)BY podcast — I listen to it every week and it makes me laugh and feel like I’m hanging out with a group of friends in someone’s cozy living room. It’s a podcast about gender but really so much more!
Last night I watched the NY Times documentary on Britney Spears, which was actually very interesting and inspired me to revisit Baby One More Time. I can’t believe there was a period when she performed these songs in concert at shopping malls on her way to (rather devastating) fame.
I’ll leave you with an update on my pants-making journey: I just finished what I consider to be my first real pair! A classic five-pocket high-waist style made from a thrifted tablecloth.
That’s it for this week ~
Love you, miss you ~
Ava