Juniper Disco | No. 27
Airplane arms and guava daiquiris
Out here at the edge of America, the world around us is finally quieting down, even as the winds gather for the dark season ahead. The songbirds have long departed. The human stream has slowed to a level where the year rounder just about outnumbers the visitor and there is once again room enough to do airplane arms down Commercial Street. I’ve returned to the ease of my own company and can finally hear my own thoughts.
Listening to that internal voice has lead to some of my best adventures. A three-day whale watch on a fishing boat where I slept next to the beer. A now annual solo reading retreat. A strong desire to welcome a snuggly dog into our lives. A decision to drop out of library school and go to Italy instead. The creation of this space.
Lately, that voice is a church choir of punchy nudges steering me towards experiences where I must slow down, attempt to cultivate space and comfort, and fortify myself for what may be ahead in the chaos of our surreal times.
A demand for uninterrupted time and space to think. A longing to go some place cold and windswept with cozy leather arm chairs and fireplaces and specially curated bookstores and coffee shops with flaky pastries. An interest in train travel. A craving to learn how to do something oozingly tactile. A desire to be around people who uplift. A thirst for good stories. A deep need to move to a new period of excavation so I can clear out everything around me and resettle myself.
The scariest interpretation of the chaos is that we’re headed for a fascist society on a burning planet. And without a just in time! Millennium Falcon to rescue us. As we lurch towards whatever inevitability awaits us, I’ll be turning inward, listening to that voice, and trusting her guidance.
I early voted, across the board, for Democrats. A vote for anyone else is a direct threat to the lives of the people I love. I’ll be somewhere warm sitting in front of a Wheel of Fortune slot machine, noise-blocking ear plugs affixed, when the election tallies are announced. At least there will be guava daiquiris and conch fritters if democracy dies that day.
We gathered by the sea, head-to-toe in white, to celebrate the end of the summer season. With fancy headdresses and glittered go-go boots and sequined straps of all varieties, we painted our joy on our outsides that day.
Usually I drag my feet cleaning up the spent summer plants. I started chopping and chucking the minute I could comfortably wear long-sleeves outside, focusing on the promise of the cozy season ahead of us. The perennials, however, will remain untouched until next spring after the insects are finished using them as their winter retreat.
On an impulse, I bought a bunch of fall blooming chrysanthemums earlier this year. And after the summer blooms faded, they added new lovely pops of color to my cozified world.
I watched a 35-minute video to learn how to grow micro-green cilantro inside so that I can eat The Super Mr.’s freaking delicious pico de gallo year round.
Gradually, the cold season birds have moved in and have started punctuating our days with unrecognizable speeches. The Carolina Wrens are the most vocal, especially when it rains. Their beautiful summer songs have turned into grumpy complaints.
I put my hands in butter, flour, and yeast after a night of sleep cut short by thunderstorms, the threat of nuclear war, and my family evacuating their Gulf Coast vacation.
Over two days, I sat in the one cushy seat in the library and listened to writers talk about their process, their hopes, their challenges, and their vulnerability during the Provincetown Book Festival. I bought all their books.
I’m filling the space with Spanish guitar music. Try: “Alexa, play Spanish guitar.” It will infuse your home with inspiration.
I wore sweatpants to sleep in for the first time in ages. I’ve also started paddling down the driveway to the mailbox in red fuzzy moccasin slippers.
Three layers were required for warmth when we ventured out to celebrate Oktoberfest in town with giant pretzels and honey crisp cider and apple spice whoopie pies with cream cheese filling.
At some point I realized I was having nightmares almost every night. Everything I saw on the news happened to me in my head as I slept. I hid from lone shooters and ran from natural disasters. I screamed at fascists and tried to save all my friends. I now start my days in silence.
My new sartorial approach for the fall comprises a super-discounted, super soft navy blue cardigan, leggings of various colors, and a statement tshirt. A sort of coastal grandma meets activist Star Wars fangirl meets psych ward attire. All accented with a signature pop of color.
I also made a decision to shield myself better from the blowing winds of 100,000 blades that strike at us out here in the winter and invested in some pull-on warm comfy boots, puffer gloves, and an Arctic-rated down hat.
Contrarily, we are determined to leave the heat off in our home until we get back from our trip.
I had a mini Admiral Ackbar view-a-thon. He’s only on screen in the movies for about 3 1/2 minutes. His Clone Wars episodes (the first three of Season 4) are some of my favorites.
When we hit October, I selected some pending business to work on: finishing my nemesis of a novel, Middlemarch, + completing six hikes on my local excursion list + working on my Out! Out! Damn Stuff! purge project.
I also spent the month of October immersed in short story collections — the National Book Award winner from 1996, a translated Danish work, an author I’ve been meaning to read. And I read for a satisfying 8 hours of a 24 hour read-a-thon.
I pulled out all my Bean sweaters from the 80s to wear. And if you knew me then, you know I have many. My poor father would come home from work with the latest catalog lying on his bed with 6,000 post-it notes telling him what I wanted. Teenage Missy was relentless.
It took 15 minutes to cut five inches off my Erykah Badu-esque topknot and return it to an unremarkable length.
I’ve been thinking a lot about:
Samsø Island in Denmark. Ten years ago, this island community became 100% self-sufficient with renewable energy using wind turbines. And they did it together, everyone pulling in the same direction. Imagine what that must be like!
Remembering Together, Scotland’s collective effort to create COVID memorials. “ .. a process to commemorate those who have lost their lives, those who have experienced loss and change as well as celebrating the ways in which Scottish communities have come together during the most difficult times.” AGAIN, imagine what this must be like!
Melanie Lan’s residency at the Fish Factory in Iceland. Following along on her blog and on Instagram has been astonishing. Check out the cyanotypes she created from the translucent agates she found on the volcanic shores.
These spirited nuggets of colorful sculpture that are so tactile — I just want to grab them in my fists and tuck them into my pockets.
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Also, here’s some stuff:
Extended expiration dates for COVID tests! You can check your COVID test stash here on the FDA website. Looks like you are going to need them. COVID cases are on the rise here.
Ecosia. I’ve switched completely from Google to Ecosia for doing interwebs searching. They say they use the profit from our searches to plant trees. Has to be better than feeding the corporate beast.
WaterBear. A free streaming platform for those of us interested in climate action. I highly recommend Life on the Rocks and Sonic Forest.
Shira Ehrlichman’s takeover of The Slowdown podcast (August 22 - September 2.) A few minutes of a personal story and then a poem. Trust me, it will improve your day. // Susan Cain on Everything Happens podcast. You may know Susan from her life-changing books on introversion. She talks about grief and melancholy and creativity in her latest book, Bittersweet.
For All Mankind (AppleTV). I could spend this whole edition on just this show! It is throw-your-body-sideways-on-the-couch-with-a-pillow-clenched-over-your-head good. It’s about the space race, but with history just a little askew. Ron Moore of my beloved Battlestar Galactica is the showrunner. And there’s a podcast about the space science in the show!
Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin (HBOMax). Absolutely my kind of teenage horror murderer-on-the-loose show. Only quibble: these girls were not scared when they should have been screaming. // Surface (AppleTV). The main character appears to have attempted suicide, but did she? We find out along with her as she regains her memory. // The Midnight Club (Netflix). If you like a ghost story but don’t like gore or to be startled, you’ll like this series. // Chef’s Table: Pizza (Netflix). If I had to choose a last meal, it would be pizza. There are some serious badasses making pizza out there. Warning: Don’t watch this if you are hungry.
Fire of Love (Woods Hole Film Festival — online). The life of a vulcanologist couple, their adventures, their fashion (not at all, but their style is spectacular), and their tragedy. Mesmerizing footage! // Moonfall (HBOMAX). I kept asking myself the whole time why is Halle Berry in this? But it’s an ADVENTURE and a new twist on the space odyssey/end of the world genre. // Hell of a Cruise (Peacock.) Footage and interviews with people who were on that Diamond Princess cruise ship in January of 2020 when COVID exploded. Pretty scathing. // Everything Everywhere All at Once (rental). I sobbed at the end, even as my brain exploded trying to keep up.
And, of course!, I watched and LOVED: The Rings of Power (Amazon Prime), Andor (Disney+), Tales of the Jedi (Disney+), season five of Cobra Kai (Netflix), and the final season of Derry Girls (Netflix).Lila Iké: Tiny Desk Concert. Her voice makes me want to book another trip to Jamaica right now!
Napoli Secreta Vol. 2. Perfect soundtrack for a 70s poolside fantasy.
Cha Chas for Dancing by Hugo Montenegro. This will be on repeat for cocktail hour in our house all winter. Spritely and festive.
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A few local things:
The District Attorney and Sheriff races on the Cape & Islands. Two huge opportunities here for us to get candidates who hold our values above self-serving, let’s-buy-ourselves-a-boat-on-the-public-dime-and-dock-it-on-Martha’s Vineyard power grabbing. VOTE for Rob Galibois for DA! and Donna Buckley for Sheriff!
Phase 3 Lyme Vaccine Trials. FINALLY! If you live on the Cape, you probably know someone who has been adversely impacted by Lyme disease. They are still looking for participants!
Broadsided Press. A locally run press designed to put literature and arts on the streets. It publishes “monthly visual-literary collaborations as free posters for anyone to download” and put up around your neighborhood.
Old Ladies Against Underwater Garbage. You have to be at least 60 to join this group of women who dive into our ponds here on the Cape to clean them of garbage. One of the most Cape Codder things I’ve seen. Go ladies!
The last word, according to the CHiPs Skate with the Stars, which is a vibe. “They are all on skates tonight!” Todd Bridges, in my imagined life, I am you (2:15).:
Conversation Pit of the Month:
Kaftan of the Month:
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Currently Reading: Middlemarch, George Eliot (like for real this time)
Digging the cha cha when I need to get moving. Thanks!!
That CHiPs clip... Wow. Just... Wow.