Things I Learned This Week

Revolution, Micheaux, LCD Soundsystem, Dacha, Maron, and Dylan

I’ve been out of commission for a few weeks. Like most of the people I know, I am struggling with balancing the joy/distraction of frivolity juxtaposed against the world burning/changing. I want to come on here and write about my internal monologue and share the things I’m learning (which is a shit ton), but finding the balance is vexing me. I woke up at 5 am, struggling with anxiety and guilt (as per the usual), then decided to come here and spill some beans on how the week went down.

Just one downer before I move on to the good stuff. Remember all those times I’ve defended the internet, waxed poetic about Instagram, and weighed all we’ve gained against all we’ve lost? Well, I’ve landed on the side of flushing it all. I broke down and got Brick, one of those gadgets that allows you to block whatever you want on your phone, and so far it’s working. No more endless scrolling. No more mind-numbing nights and mornings looking into the abyss of 1% things I want to see with 99% ads and things the algorithm tells me I need to see. I’ve seen too many frail-minded folks get swept up in a belief system they were never meant to buy into because they followed a nibble down a rabbit hole they can’t escape from. Substack had better play its cards right, or it’s going to be next. PSA over.

Speaking of rabbit holes, I’ve started down the one featuring the cinematic worlds of Oscar Micheaux, the most successful African-American filmmaker of the first half of the 20th century. The man wrote seven novels and then transitioned to filmmaking when the first Black-owned production company approached him to adapt one of his books for the screen. He went on to make 44 silent films and “talkies” between 1919 and 1948 that dealt with contemporary black life in a way that didn’t stereotype or minimize and included themes like interracial relationships, Black success and economic exploitation, racial injustice, lynching, job discrimination, rape, and mob violence, some with an autobiographical slant. His Within Our Gates is the earliest surviving feature film directed by an African American and is a direct response to The Birth of a Nation, often called the most racist movie in film history.

In British novels class, we just finished the 1988 novel The Beginning of Spring by Penelope Fitzgerald. Set in Moscow leading up to the Bolshevik Uprising of 1917, it’s the tale of a Moscow-born, English-educated print shop owner whose wife walks out on him and his three children. But really, it is an allegory for everything going on now, the rustle of revolution before anyone realizes fully that the times they are a-changin’. This led to a discussion of what the word revolution means, to revolve or roll back. Not necessarily a dirty word, but a natural ebb and flow of the order of things. It was a fascinating book to read at this moment and time, and made me more optimistic about what’s possible. By the way, what are you doing tomorrow?

Speaking of revolution, Marc Maron’s last WTF was this week. A somewhat bland and only slightly hopeful conversation with the always measured Obama. The world is a far less wonderful place without Marc Maron’s biweekly rants on the state of the nation and his cats, followed by an hour-long interview with some fascinating person of note about their childhood trauma and life journey to creativity. His exit from the podcast realm feels very melancholy at a time when his brand of reason is more needed than ever. I hope he doesn’t slide into just being another boring actor. Speaking of which…

I am just now coming to understand the cultural depth of the word melancholy, at least in the Eurocentric point of view. In English history and culture, melancholy was not really a bad thing. Experiencing melancholy was historically viewed as a sign of deep intelligence and creativity, something to be aspired to and celebrated through literature, music, and all the other arts. Thinking I might need to stop feeling guilty about my afternoons and evenings of woe and lean into my melancholy era.

Now back to the book. In The Beginning of Spring, I was introduced to the Russian word dacha. da·cha /ˈdäCHə/ Noun: a country house or cottage in Russia, Ukraine, and neighboring countries, typically used as a second or vacation home. Now, I’ve seen these sorts of houses online. Women in Sweden and elsewhere dusting off the winter cobwebs of their ramshackle summer homes, always only a few months away from being swallowed by the wilderness and the elements. Needless to say, I want one. I think my life’s mission at this point will be working toward acquiring one of these. Photo cred to Anastasia Shpilko for NPR, which, by the way, has this delightful piece from a few years back about the aforepictured dacha, “Russia’s Summer Cure For Urban Life. Granted, we had this before we sold the farm, but regardless, the same sort of effect really needs an adjacent wood, ample amounts of dahlias, and a distant mewing train whistle. And speaking of trains…

I was recently introduced to the photographic genius of O. Winston Link, who during the 1950s photographed and recorded the last days of steam locomotion in the U.S. What makes the works especially captivating is that they were quasi-commercial. Most of the shots were elaborately staged to highlight the convergence of the railways with American culture and the fabulous form that steam cuts across the night sky. Straight up eye-candy. Give it a Google.

Lastly, always a shoutout to my amazing son who turned me on to LCD Soundsystem, an early 2000s band I never paid much attention to. Check out my current fave song—All My Friends—that has a very driving, railroadesque drone/beat that would propel anyone on a run, a drive, or an oncoming revolution. Then listen to the great interview with frontman James Murphy on WTF from a few years ago.

Quote of the week?

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’

— Dylan (of course)

‘Til Tuesday kids.

Burgin

(An MFA grad student at 50+… follow along and read my story here.)