Through sunbeams and thunderstorms, May was something. I missed a flight / my boyfriend / therapy. I lost patience / my metro card / my wordle streak. I needed comfort / an umbrella / courage. I got emotional / a first edition of Vineland / to reunite with friends. All in all, it wasn't that bad, but we can call it ‘challenging’.
I also discovered a poem by Le Guin that, for some reason, blended itself with life in the last few weeks. It's called Be Always Coming Home, and it's in her book, Always Coming Home.
I’ve always struggled with the concept of home. I wasn't sure if it was something you built, somewhere you landed, or maybe a bit of both? Do you have to work for it? Or the whole point of it is being the easiest place you can find yourself in? I still don't know the answers to these questions, but I do feel like I’ve found mine. And being away is less unsettling because of it. Had I encountered this poem at any other time in my life, I wouldn't have been able to connect with it the same way.
But there's something else about the whole idea of home. Last Christmas, I went to my mum's, and we browsed through some of my grandpa's records. I don't think I'd ever seen them before. I knew where they were, but I never thought of them. And as I got older and started building my own collection, I never stopped to think about them as anything other than objects. There was no relation between those records and me. Until a few months ago.
We started picking them up one by one, and I was blown away by what they were. They're mostly Portuguese albums, but it's the kind of music that I make playlists with and desperately try to find in antique shops — usually with no luck. It's the kind of music that I listen to all the time because it just feels so much like a part of me (is this home?) There were also some artists that you might recognise, like Chico Buarque and Simon & Garfunkel and Elza Soares. So there I was: sitting on the floor, a weird feeling of shame in my stomach because how could I have disregarded grandpa so much that I hadn't even looked at what was most precious to him? I got over it finally, but I still get so emotional thinking about this. And between moving houses twice and having my life in boxes, only now was I able to check and see if the records still play. They do.
Sometimes we make vague connections between things that we can't really explain. I love that feeling. Like how the word 'left' is tied to the colour orange for me. Or how Sigourney Weaver is a symbol of strength in my head (yeah, probably bc of Alien). Now when I think of these records, I inevitably think of Be Always Coming Home. Grandpa died when I was three. I've heard only good things about how clever he was and how political and kind. I also know that he used to dog-ear his books which my whole family simply loathes. And I do it too. But instead of complaining, my mum looks at it fondly because I am cause & effect: I'm my own person, but she knows which parts are exclusively me, and which parts I borrow from all the people in our world — ‘walk fearlessly, well loved one. / Return with us, return to us, / be always coming home.”
Books
I just posted about this yesterday on Instagram but I enjoyed it so much, that I feel it deserves a few extra words.
Mona has been sitting on my shelf for months now and I was always hesitant to pick it up. I think the comparison to Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation really put me off because I couldn’t connect with that one. I got what she tried to do, it just didn’t work for me. But I finally decided to read this and I really loved it. It is not just another romanticised portrait of a woman struggling with mental health. This one is actually very meaningful. It is also many things. It grasps our understanding of language and how that applies in the real world, and it is an smart (&funny) take on pompous literary elites and how empty it all is.
Films
Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) dir. Daniel Scheinert & Daniel Kwan
With all of May’s confusion, I almost missed this one in the theatres, but the stars aligned for a minute there and I managed to watch it. And omg I loved it. It mostly takes place at an IRS office where our characters are filling out tax forms for their business. Our main character is a Chinese woman who suddenly gets pulled into a new universe where she connects with her own parallel lives. Yes, it is sci-fi. And it is very very good. When I tell my friends that certain films feel like ‘real cinema’ I sound like a pretentious prick and yet, I really cannot express it any other way. This is one of those. The Daniels put together a magnetic and chaotic mess that is also moving and soft. Every scene is so intentional and elegantly set up that it really feels like something I haven’t watched before. And the fact that they use references like Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love (and WKW’s style in general) or Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey just makes it even more accomplished.
Music
Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers by Kendrick Lamar
I was watching an interview with Neil Gaiman the other day where he discusses the importance of honesty when writing fiction. It’s only when you get personal and, as he says, get ‘a little more honest than you’re comfortable with’ that work gains meaning. And that’s why I love this album. To Pimp a Butterfly is very universal, very strong and perhaps one of the most important albums produced recently. This one, though, is personal and private. And it’s this trait that (for me) makes it vulnerable enough to work.
Thx bye
I just got back from a trip where everything that could’ve gone wrong, did — remember the flight I mentioned I lost? It didn’t end there. Meaning, I’m going to spend the rest of my day googling 5-minute recipes and building a surf camp on Animal Crossing.
Thank you for reading and I hope you stick around. Also, feel free to reach out on Twitter or on Instagram!