The Newsletter Thingy
The Sybarite Newsletter: Anything Interesting Happening This Week?
The greatest rebellion is to reject panic.
After 9/11, Graydon Carter, who at the time was the editor of Vanity Fair, announced that “irony was dead.” There was some debate about what he meant and some pushback about whether that was a good thing: after all, it’s gallows humor that gets us through disturbing historical events.
I think he was referring to the type of irony that seemed to flourish in the 1990s — disengaged, lazy and condescending, the vibe that made Seinfeld a hit and made Less Than Zero feel exactly right. Maybe it was because we were emerging from the decade in which we were all appalled at Gordon Gecko’s famous line “greed is good,” but at the same time watched our salaries and bank accounts soar. After all, the 1990s truly was an era of peace and prosperity, at least for most Americans. As a recent college graduate I shopped at thrift shops, donning 1940s rayon dresses with combat boots, making fun of all the grandmas because if everything is going great, how do you entertain yourself? With snark.
Then people jumped out of buildings because they thought that was better than being burned alive, and it seems to me that Carter was simply done with lazy disconnectedness, with our lack of real feelings. Or something. I too am a little mystified how to articulate it.
I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it. I was reminded about about Carter’s declaration yesterday, when a friend texted to invite me to a bar on election night to “watch/freak out/celebrate.” This felt like the irony Carter wanted us to jettison; watching the most consequential election in my lifetime at a bar, like it was the final game in a championship sportsing thing seemed weird. After all, I’m in Los Angeles. What were we going to do if Trump won? Drink ourselves under the table while pontificating on HoW DiD tHis HapPen? This prospect feels exactly what Carter was trying to warn us about.
It was also weird that inherent in the invitation was the assumption that my friend knew whom I had voted for, which is, I think, how the Democrats got into this mess. (I voted for Harris, please calm down). If Harris loses, it will be in part because the Democrats have assumed too much, and failed to engage in a self-interrogation about why this race has been so close from the beginning. They have simply assumed that a certain type, like me — educated, liberal-leaning — would be a sure thing. But Trump voters are clearly walking among us, and the Democrats’ failure to ask why that is may prove fatal.
Here’s my answer to that question: while Harris is disciplined, coached, and stays on message, Trump remains ungovernable, unmanageable. Harris feels remote and disconnected, while Trump feels visceral, and well, connected — even if what he’s connected to is a river of dark grievance. If you recoil at the batshit things he says, it’s still clear you are listening to a real person, while Harris is so micromanaged she rarely answers a question directly, making her feel remote, disconnected, and in my mind, dangerously close to snark.
I found myself screaming at the television during the debate when she wouldn’t directly answer whether she supported limits on abortion. I’m obviously pro-choice, and yet her refusal to just say something, anything, drove me nuts. (What she did say: she wanted the limits and protections under Roe to be the law of the land again, but this only lands if you know the details of what Roe allowed and didn’t allow).
I again wanted to throw something at the screen when she was asked whether she would pardon Trump. Instead of saying that she would, or wouldn’t, or might consider it, or would never consider it — anything — she just repeated that she needed to be elected President. You could almost see the ghosts of her consultants standing behind her, telling her — for some unknown reason? — to just never directly answer a question. Seinfeld vibes indeed.
I suspect people are done with remote, micromanaged, and the consultant class. Having an agent of chaos, as Trump clearly is, run the country is a calamitously bad idea, but that’s not really the point during the campaign when all people want to do is connect with a candidate: both Bill Clinton and Obama taught us that.
So, no, I’m not going to a bar that night to act as if this election is like the season finale of some long-running television show. But you know what else I won’t be doing? Flipping out either way.
If Kamala wins, I’ll be relieved, but I won’t be posting celebratory or scornful messages on social media. And if Trump wins, I will not buy into the narrative that we are all doomed, forever and always. Perhaps we will be, but I’m not going to ruin four years of my life with my brain hijacked by this idea. You know, as Mary Oliver says.
And I submit neither should you: the panic, after all, is part of the division. The hyperbole makes it worse. The biggest rebellion is to not participate in any of that, and even — buckle up — try to understand one another? I have friends, both Trump supporters and Kamala supporters, who have built their identity solely on outrage and paranoia. Reject that. Heal. Stay connected.
Instead, I’m going to absorb the results and then return to the things that make a life: relationships, and seeing the world in both big and small ways. To continue to live and anchor ourselves to the concrete beauty of the world is the true rebellion, and getting swept up in the media-created panic is the opposite. Refuse to be unsettled. Make chutney, family recipe courtesy of Penina S. Finger.
And this, awkwardly, brings me to the latest in Sybarite. First, we have new contributor Amanda Laughtland, who writes beautifully about a trip to Canada, and all the things she saw but more importantly, didn’t see. And we have my own manifesto (or rant? you decide) about why I choose my dog over people. We also have some really sound advice for all of you in perimenopause trying to lose weight.
I’d love to say we have more in Sybarite to share, but we don’t. I could repeat my little speech about how we need more contributors, etc and so forth, but I’m tired of doing that. Instead, I’m sharing some of my favorite essays on Medium below, in the hopes of — what do the kids call it these days? Manifesting? — getting some good writing to flow our way.
First, have you ever thought of what you would do if your kid got stuck in a sofa? Nicole C. Kear has, in this piece that I haven’t stopped thinking about since I read it the first time. If the rule that all good essays are about two things is true, this one nails it. I also love this story by Lily King about an injury in a foreign country, but of course is about so much more. Perhaps you’re curious to know what it would be like to suddenly become paralyzed, for no apparent reason? You’re in luck, because Harris Sockel did just that and wrote about it here. What about breaking both legs? You’re in luck again, because Mia Lazarewicz wrote about that here and it’s somehow uplifting?
Then there is the consistently incredible writing of Felicia C. Sullivan, who wrote about healing in California, but to me this is the the essay about New York and California that I, someone who has also lived in both places, really wish I had written. I love Felicia’s writing because it is the polar opposite of disconnected. Felicia, what can I do to get you to write for Sybarite? Because I’ll do it.
Until next time, Sybarites. Keep it together.
AD, Sybarite-in-Chief
