#4 spirals
on eco-horror, being chronically online, and flowers
Dearest friend,
This is being sent out hopelessly late. Largely because April seems to have disappeared into the fog of my mind. I feel as if I fell into a black hole at the beginning of the month and have just now re-emerged at the tail end.
I did, however, write a poem nearly every day in April! It felt good to flex my writing muscles regularly, and to have the space in which to experiment with structure, form, and language so freely. I’m hoping to clean up some of my favorites so I can share it with you at some point in the future.
Now, onto the good stuff.
the library
Some of my favorite reading months are the ones in which I end up reading only one or two books, but take my time. April was one of those months. I underlined, dog-eared, re-read, discussed, wrote notes, sprawled in and soaked up every last word on each page. It felt deliciously good to languor rather than rush.
I’ve already talked at length about The New Jim Crow and The Underground Railroad, so instead, I want to delve into Junji Ito’s horror manga, Uzumaki. You can read the full manga online if you’re interested.
Junji Ito, before even Stephen King or Bloody Mary, was the source of my childhood nightmares. I remember picking up Uzumaki sometime in middle school and feeling absolutely possessed. I’ve always been an impressionable person, but was especially so as a child. Obsessive thoughts would worm their way into my brain and lodge themselves there, appearing in recurring nightmares and daytime omens. When it came to Uzumaki, it of course manifested in an obsession with spirals. I saw them everywhere and was enraptured by their ubiquity.
I had another bout of spiral obsession in late-college, when I first learned about Derrida’s Archive Fever. Repetition, the death drive — these concepts all figured heavily in my courses at the time and made an impact on me outside of the classroom as well. I read books like All the Names by Jose Saramago and stories from Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges. There is something so utterly tantalizing about the vertiginous quality of repetition and spirals. Like being hypnotized by a spiraling illusion.
Maybe there’s something inherently compelling about spiral formations. After all, think of how it really is true that spirals are frequently found in nature. From sunflowers and weather patterns to our fingerprints and DNA double helix. And, there’s the Fibonacci sequence and the golden ratio.
Personal obsessions aside, what I find particularly compelling about Junji Ito’s Uzumaki (beyond the scariness and twisted imagination) is its innovative approach to the man vs. nature trope. In the manga, the residents of the town are at the mercy of the spiral curse. No matter what they do or how much they fight back, they are systematically punished, destroyed, manipulated, affected by the natural world around them. Nature lashes back at humanity in the form of: snails, hurricanes, fires, etc.
The ending of the manga feels open-ended, yet there’s a peace to it. I don’t want to spoil it in case you’re planning to read it, so I’ll leave my thoughts at that.
I’m hoping to include more of the horror genre in my reading plans moving forward. I’ve always loved how horror can allow for deeper experimentation and critique in ways that other genres can’t or don’t. If you have any recommendations, I’m all ears.
the salon
Though I didn’t read many books, I’ve been gorging myself on articles, Substack newsletters, and video essays lately. I’m chronically online, and falling down internet rabbit holes is my favorite way of spiraling these days. Here’s a selection of what I found especially worthwhile:
I subconsciously turn to old comforts whenever I’m in any kind of rut (emotionally, creatively, existentially). Last week, I found myself playing a lot of Phoebe Bridgers. A cliché, but her music really buoyed me through the rough patches of 2020 and 2021. So returning to her songs is both painfully reminiscent and deeply comforting. All this to say, I found this ASMR massage video of her, which is such an odd yet wonderful thing, as well as this piece on Pitchfork on the influences of her album, Punisher.
Going against scientific consensus, the demarcation problem, and scientific misinformation — I thought the comment section of this one was particularly interesting, adding a lot more nuance to the discussion.
The neoliberal facade of ‘freedom’ as a freedom from accountability for the ultra-wealthy
Every so often, I come across writing that so perfectly articulates the scattered, unorganized thoughts in my brain. This piece by Charlie on the pitfalls of choice feminism is the perfect example of that. It’s brilliant.
“We must ask ourselves: how are our desires informed by the power structures around us? How are our actions informed by our roles within those power structures? How can we connect with the people around us? How can we find fulfillment beyond validation? It is difficult work, to be certain. It can be uncomfortable. But it is a journey of love, of care, of community and one that is wholly worth it.”
A common argument for why there’s a gender pay gap is because women simply lack confidence in the work place and don’t ask for raises/higher salaries as often as their male counterparts. But what if women actually do ask for the money, they just don’t get it.
“By buying into the ‘women don’t ask’ narrative, employers who should be doing more to rectify gender pay gaps in their own organizations get to ignore their role in fostering said gaps, and pass the buck back onto us.”
But also, maybe the cult of confidence is a scam anyway.
I’m an unabashed fan of Rayne, and her latest piece on what she terms the “dissociative pout” is wryly sardonic, yet cut with a deep empathy and understanding of the current pop culture milieu.
“If duckface was a girlboss who got down on the weekends, the dissociative pout is a detached feminist with an ironic meme page. She still cares about being sexy, but knows there’s nothing sexy about caring too much. And in times of discord, chaos, and fear, a cultural descent into nihilism makes sense.”
I’ve been deep diving through Jessica DeFino’s Substack and writing, which seeks to uncover the beauty industry. I’ve always had a healthy amount of skepticism toward the beauty and skincare industries, but I’ve also been largely uncritical and complicit (and I still can’t deny that I love the feeling of a full face of makeup). DeFino’s articles have cracked this world wide open for me. She’s the philosopher pulling me out of the beautiful (though still ultimately artificial) cave. As an appetizer, here’s her article on how white supremacy and capitalism influence beauty standards. Then, read this article on how our conception of skin care is largely a lie. And to top it all off, this piece on how we need a paradigm shift in beauty, not just a vibe shift.
A poem for the road:
Most Days I Want to Live
Gabrielle CalvocoressiNot all days. But most days
I do. Most days the garden’s
almost enough: little pink flowers
on the sage, even though
the man said we couldn’t eat
it. Not this kind. And I said,
Then, gosh. What’s the point?
The flowers themselves,
I suppose. The rain came
and then the hail came and my love
brought them in. Even tipped
over they look optimistic.
I know it’s too late to envy
the flowers. That century’s
over and done. And hope?
That’s a jinx. But I did set them
right. I patted them a little.
And prayed for myself, which
is embarrassing to admit
in this day and age. But I did it.
Because no one was looking
or listening anyway.
Here’s my earnest promise that next month’s letter will be more robust! Until then, I hope your month is full of flowers, however that may look for you.
With the utmost of love,
Charlotte