Good morning. Hello. How are you? #1045
Horrors of Gaza, ode to the pedestrian, ode to the wooden stool, stork envy, Instagram and Facebook never mute and it is evil and annoying
Good morning. Hello. How are you? All well, I hope? I hope so. I hope someone is doing well. I am not doing well right at this moment. I have that sick pit of anxiety in my stomach, primarily because I stupidly read a New York Times article about Gaza on my phone while standing in the deli line this morning.
I’ve been following the seige on the hospital, and Israel’s accusations that there was a secret HQ for Hamas under the hospital, and the all around horror of the whole thing. The horror that I, as a normal(ish) news consumer, will never know the truth. The horror that someone would (might?) put a military HQ under a hospital. The horror that someone else would think that’s excuse enough to bomb the hospital. The horror of being able to understand, completely, both sides and why they might do those things. The temptation and guilt of both-sides-ing the thing. The ease with which someone could just pick a point in this whole trail of horror and say “that’s my side, the other side is the evil one.” All the kids caught in the crossfire. It’s horrific if there was an HQ below the hospital. It’s horrific if there wasn’t. Horror horror horror all around. So many kids dead, so many kids dead, so many people thinking that cost is “worth it.” Jesus H.
(pronounced “hey-soos”)
All this is probably going on in Ukraine, too, though we can’t see it.
In the old days we’d just be on our land, tilling away (or, I guess, slaves on that land) and sometime months later some trader would come by and tell us rumors of something that happened in a far away land, and we’d sort of shrug, or shake our head, or think about it briefly, and then move on. In 1883, when Krakatoa erupted, and 37,000 people were killed, and hundreds of villages just wiped off the map… how long do you think it took someone in North Carolina to hear about Krakatoa? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Never?
I suspect every single one of you have thought about this. About how we legit cannot tell if the modern world is more horrific or if we just hear about every horror, around the world (or, even more horrifically, not every horror) in real time and it’s just a massive bombardment that people never had before. And how it’s fucking us up, and is it moral to turn it all off, were those people in the 1800’s immoral for not knowing about every horror on the planet? Are we more immoral if we go to that state intentionally? I’ve been wrestling a lot with the morality of “current events.” It’s so utterly ingrained in me that it’s our moral duty to keep up with current events. And I still believe that, I think. Following the logic through, of an ignorant populace, well, that is no solution.
But, god, I so wish it weren’t true. I wish I could find a real moral case for putting my head in the sand.
And then every day I get to say these things to you, because it feels immoral not to, then change the topic to the most pedestrian stuff. And I… I mean, if the whole world were more concerned with pedestrian stuff, we would be so much better off! Spending thought cycles — many, many thought cycles — on pedestrian stuff is good! Ambition is bad! Ambition brings me so much sorrow. But, of course, ambition brings reward too.
But I kind of think that, on the whole, Americans could use a lot less ambition and a lot more obsessing over pedestrian shit. America’s high point wasn’t the Martial Plan, it’s when the entire country got obsessed over which way to put your toilet paper on a roll. The blue/gold/whatever dress deserves an honorable mention. Shit maybe Will Smith was doing us all a favor.
Anyway, Instagram and Facebook are impossible to mute on iOS, it can’t be done, without turning off all the sound of your entire phone and it is insane and evil and I can’t believe Apple lets them do it and I hate it all and they will eventually ruin Threads and my god wouldn’t it be amazing if Lina Khan won and Meta had to divest itself of Instagram and Threads and someone human could take them over hahaha trick question whomever they gave them to would probably be just as bad, shit, Adam Mossari would probably get to be CEO of a spun-off Threads of Instagram so, you know, out of the frying pan into the fire, but my god I hate that sound I want to leave the sound ON on my phone when I am alone and I can’t because of these two stupid-ass apps. Maybe I’ll just delete them, he says, yeah, right, and I’ll quit smoking too — wait a minute I did that.
In one of my photos yesterday — the one of Jane — in the photo were two lowly wooden stools, and my old friend Tim write in talking about those stools and how gloriously versatile they are and he bets almost every house in America has a couple and I think he’s right. Those two stools were the very first purchase we made when we bought this house eight years ago. I came down here to take posession of the house and get the contractors sorted, and I needed somewhere to sit, so I went to Walmart and bought those two stools. And here we are, eight years later, and they’ve been used for a million different things and they are still going strong. Jane uses them now, in a couple years, they’ll go into my new studio and they’ll fit right in in there as well. They are probably the best-constructed thing at Walmart.
Do you have a wooden stool or two in your house? How long have you had them? What have they been used for through the years?
Ode to the lowly wooden stool.
The pedestrian!
Viva la revolution pedestrienne!
I do not know if that is correct French I’m in Spanish land lately.
Yesterday I picked Jane up from school — number six in line. Then we went home for about thirty minutes then went to the airport and picked up Emma, whose flight was an hour late, disrupting our plans. She bought some food in the airport, we picked her up and headed to the cell phone waiting lot where her and Jane “ate dinner,” while we waited for my mom and aunt to arrive an hour later. Then we picked them up and we all drove home — three generations of Webbs in the same Lightning. It was a good time. Man that truck holds a lot. Dropped off Emma and Jane at the house then Mom and Bonnie at the new house and gave them a tour and let everyone pass out because everyone but Jane and I were exhausted from travel.
Emma and I finally got to catch up a bit last night, though she was exhausted. So much to discuss, from both of our lives over the last week. I think we hit most of the big notes? TBD. My wife is awesome. We are basically a couple because we used to sit and talk for hours and hours and hours and I wish we had time to do that this week that would be just great.
But she does read these, so that does speed things up a bit. Hi honey. I am glad you’re home. I hope you are getting rest. I’m glad that, at this very moment, fingers crossed, no one in our family is sick.
Famous last words.
W Hotel Lobby in a Better, Alternate Universe playlist for you today. On the smooth side. That Allie X Troy Sivan song just came on in my car apparently I favorited it a few years back, have no recollection, it was great, and I know who Troy Sivan is now thank you SNL. That Habibi song has been in my head for a month. Lotta new stuff here. Yesterday I learned that King Gizzard et al is electronic? I think I have been mixing them up with Bad Wizard for years. Weird.
All right well here’s to hoping things improve somewhat. Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have but I have it.
i agree with you: let's think more about minutiae.
TOILET ROLL: OVER.