You Can’t Spell Toxic without X

Right there in the middle of the word “toxic” is X, the everything app.

Headlines last night were about how people have stopped buying Teslas because Elon has become too toxic.

I think that’s probably true. And there’s been a retraction in the EV space in general. I’m not completely sure why. But I do know, anecdotally, about a lot of self-styled experts who say the cars are no good, wherever they’re from.

A lot of it is fear. A lot of it is certain demographics holding on to the internal combustion engine because they feel like they’ve lost everything else.

As for Things Elon Does. I’m completely off Twitter/X. Not necessarily because of him, bu that’s part of it.

I have this theory, not particularly well-developed, that Michael Jackson was a gestalt figure at the crux of celebrity, race, exploitation, and child endangerment. He personified the symptoms of our disordered relationship with art, commerce, and the end product: superstar. Elvis had some of that, too. Whatever else he is, Donald Trump is a gestalt célèbre, a self-identified symptom of what’s sick about our political system in general. He has said so himself (“the system is rigged, she knows it, and that’s why she won’t fix it. It benefits her and her donors.” Chappelle makes a very good point about that). In the same way, Elon Musk is social media personified. He needs to unplug. He needs to touch grass (the real kind). We all do.

Headlines this morning were about how 40% of adults go three days without in-person interactions. That’s part of why keeping us polarized has become so damn easy. Shares of Truth Social may have plummeted, Musk may have all but destroyed Twitter, but people are still making money keeping us so hell-bent on hating each other. If you’re sucked into this matrix, if you think these billionaires want to save you, maybe turn your phone off. If you’re one of these 40%, left, right, or middle, go talk to a neighbor. Volunteer somewhere. Take someone soup. Do something in person. Remember that people are complicated, we all work from faulty assumptions, we’re all prone to fooling ourselves. Play pickleball (if you must). Find a way to connect, flesh and blood, Vitamin D, birds chirping. The good stuff.

St Paul put it this way: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Henri Nouwen said this:

“If you know you are the Beloved, you can live with an enormous amount of success and an enormous amount of failure without losing your identity. Because your identity is that you are the Beloved… The question becomes ‘Can I live a life of faith in the world and trust that it will bear fruit?’”

Nouwen’s not so-secret secret? We’re all the Beloved. If you struggle to see the image of God in others, congratulations, you’re human. But part of that burden is trusting that putting your faith into work will, indeed, bear fruit.

In November, we’ll elect a president. We are not crowning a Messiah. Celebrities have agendas like the rest of us, and it turns out that not even the technocrats will save us.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” MLK said that, paraphrasing Jesus.

This post is a work in progress. More to come as I have it. But please, stop worshiping political figures, celebrities, and internet clout.

What I’m Reading, What I’m Writing

Reading:

Burning Down the House: Essays on Fiction, Charles Baxter

The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway

Blanco, Allen Wier

I’ve written a short (1200 words) essay about one of the pieces in the Baxter collection and sent it to a few places. I may run it here soon. One of the interesting things about Burning Down the House is that it was written 20 years ago the first essay, “Mistakes Were Made,” anticipates the narrative dysfunction gripping what’s left of the national discourse.

Hemingway is a re-read. I’m enjoying most of it. There are some things I cringe at, which forces me to ask question I probably wasn’t asking as a younger reader (and as a hunger human being).

I recently watched a talk by Allen Wier on YouTube and really liked it. I just started reading his first novel, Blanco. It was published in 1978. I’m only two chapters in, but the writing is tight and I’m excited to see where it goes.

Writing:

I have a second, very brief essay (650 words) out to a few markets. It’s about relationships, which, really, all fiction is.

I have a new short story (5000 words) out for editing, and a second new story sitting at about that length with probably 2000 words to go. It hasn’t stalled, but I have had to put it aside because the final piece of it is, for me, too emotional at the moment.

I’m revising a novel manuscript that I worked on during my MFA. Doing that brings lots of highs and a few lows. There are bursts of new creativity, and characters are doing things that surprise me. My subconscious is planting symbols and loose ends that are being addressed later, the narrative is coming together. I suppose the only thing I’m really afraid of in life (apart, of course, from things involving relationships) is that I won’t finish this project. Not because it’s hard (it is, and should be), but because of the chance that something stupid will stop me in the middle. So, I need to keep that crucible, imposed only by my own anxiety, in check.

I visited with a friend in the hospital this past week and we talked about the things we need to do be in good head space. When I find anxiety medicine working, I eventually forget to take it. He had a good solution: “set an alarm on your phone.” What I’m trying to say is that anxiety is not a great muse. The things I’m reading are helping with the way I’m thinking about narrative structure, and that, in itself, brings some anxiety. But on we go.

On we go.


Paul Krugman and Leonard Cohen on Depression and Depression

Paul Krugman Mellencamp has finally uttered the words.  We’re in a Depression.  His Sunday NYT piece, “Depression and Democracy,” is here.

Elsewhere, Leonard Cohen has shared about Depression and Depression:

LC: Well, you know, there’s depression and depression. What I mean by depression in my own case is that depression isn’t just the blues. It’s not just like I have a hangover in the weekend… the girl didn’t show up or something like that, it isn’t that. It’s not really depression, it’s a kind of mental violence which stops you from functioning properly from one moment to the next. You lose something somewhere and suddenly you’re gripped by a kind of angst of the heart and of the spirit…

– Leonard Cohen, French interview (trans. Nick Halliwell)

It’s hard to be hopeful about the world economic situation.  But Cohen’s kind of depression — God, he’s right on, isn’t he, about there being different kinds? — the kind of mental violence, the kind that stops you from functioning properly from one moment to the next, the kind that grips you and won’t be shaken off without time and effort and help…maybe you see yourself in that.  Unwanted thoughts, irrational compulsions, excessive guilt.

For years, I looked to Cohen’s quote and thought, well, shit, this is the condition of artist. I found out later that it’s also the condition of millions of people who, in addition to being sensitive, winsome, and artistic, also happen to not produce enough serotonin on their own.  For many, such is the biology of general anxiety, OCD, and other depressions.  If that’s you, please know there is help.  If you don’t know if that’s you, please see a trusted physician and find out.  A friend of mine said it best: “no one should have to suffer because of their biochemistry.”  We’d never suggest a diabetic go without insulin.  We’d never expect a diabetic without the right help to function in healthy ways, let alone thrive.  Any physician worth her salt will tell you  it’s the same with the way our brains process the presence or death of chemicals our bodies are making as best they can.  Beloved, God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.  A righteous mind.