Gossip
and a hot take
For reasons I described in the last post, I can feel guilty for writing a Substack post (when I might be channelling the urge into a larger, deeper, less immediately gratifying subterranean space) but I’m feeling chatty this morning (lonely?) and that counts too. Actually the dedication to a single, monolithic work vs this seemingly less important, more-like-women-gossiping (“god sibbing”)1 over the fence is something I’ve been questioning in the last week (a rebellion against the self the self that wrote previous post, neverending rebellion. Which is just turning the soil really.) Not that Substack is the solution, but it has some feminine qualities that, like gossip, are all too easy to dismiss.
A Certain Kind of Friend
Talia, a fellow divorced mom friend, and I were sitting talking on the floor of my new bedroom (haven’t moved in, have no furniture, plumbing or electricity and yet still insist that friends meet me here, much to everyone’s physical discomfort) and we were agreeing that one benefit of Talia’s girlfriend and my former girlfriend was the easy access to another adult while parenting. Not a co-parent (never again!) just someone you might call or text or have over to break up the incredible intensity of parenting alone. She described how her girlfriend will just come over and strum her guitar for a little while and how this adult body in the space allows Talia to let go for a moment instead of energetically holding up all four corners of the roof over the heads of her three(!) children. But, we agreed, one shouldn’t have to be partnered to have that support (insert un-informed sentence about how children are raised in other cultures/the past/god sibbs.)
We each mentioned friends who sometimes came over and hung out in an easy-going way while we cooked — chatting with the kid occaisionally, regalling us with stories from their job, showing us things on their phone, etc.
I can say friends, plural, because we each had one friend like this; 1+1 makes more than one friend collectively. Obviously that is not enough.
We agreed we were of no use to each other in this department, we needed people without children who also weren’t in co-dependent relationship with partners or their work (I just added the co part because those people never have time, not in this easy-going sense. Every moment you get with those people you want entirely for yourself because you have no idea when you’ll see them again.) (I have often been a person like this.)
When I got home I typed up a list of other friends who I thought might be open to stopping by in a casual way. The list was only two people so I added “and other people who I will meet soon.” What’s tricky is not everyone knows how to be around kids, ie that you treat them the same way you would treat your smartest adult friend. I can’t stand to see my friends get antic for the kid. Just chill. Sorry, I know I’m being impossible (come over, but only if you’re exactly right)…so, ok, clearly I am playing a large role in my own isolation.2 Nontheless, I look forward to these new friends.
Brothers
While reading the Gertrude Stein biography in the bath last night I got to thinking about Cameron Winter and the Safdie Brothers and Timothee Chalamet3; I dictated this hot take into my phone (in the style of Stein)(if you’ve read more about Stein than by Stein.) Here it is; an oral piece to read aloud:
