Hi,
I started sending out this newsletter in 2012. In the last couple years, the email newsletter has become similar to what blogging was in the 2010-ish internet era; An era this week's guest writer Nada Alic calls, “famously naïve and earnest and yet to be colonized by brands and pathological cynicism.”
It’s the era we both came of age in, and I might be stuck in it, like a Gen X person still only listening to 90s bands, or someone dressing like they did in high school. I wouldn't evolve my music taste either if I came of age in the 90s, but I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy the low rise jeans I wore in high school.
My friend Zoë is 6 years younger than me (20 in technology time) and says my taste is “Tumblr era…” The increase in newsletters is a welcome phenomenon to me. The ones I love feel reminiscent of that era full of genuine earnestness and recommendations–here are 2 of my favorites:
- Red Hand Files - You've likely heard me gush over Nick Cave’s Q and A newsletter, but what I admire most is his ability to answer so concisely… in as few words as possible he offers support and wisdom that is specific and entertaining. Perhaps, I admire his brevity because I have none and am working on developing some.
- Perfectly Imperfect - I've joked about pretending to be featured in the recommendations newsletter PI, which was in the NYT last week. “I think Perfectly Imperfect might be one of the most sprawling cultural documents of who and what was cool during the time we’re in right now … It’s like a big artifact of all the personalities from this era,” the founder said of the newsletter in the article.
I've been sending my recs here, including a mix of concepts and tangible items like my love of shoe horns … this week's is heavy on the concepts, light on the tangible. Which do you prefer? I love your feedback and questions. And I’m answering one that submitted here with a Red Hand Files-esque response.
***
So here’s my attempt to blend the forms of my two favorite newsletters:
a list + Q & A = the below:
- Participation: I am wanting to participate in life more often and more fully. More explanation in my answer to this week’s question from Ella from California.
Q:
Since you’ve lived in several cities, which is your favorite and why? How do you know if you like a city?
A:
Dear Ella,
I’ve been reflecting on your question before you even asked because in the beginning of this week’s episode with Nada we discussed the city we both live in, Los Angeles. She’s been asked about the city quite a bit in interviews and I added to that line of questioning. She said LA is the setting of her book because it is the place where her life began or, as she put it, “It’s where I began participating in life more.”
That had me question, where did I begin participating? Was it Detroit? New York? Or like her, here?
Have I begun participating in life at all?
There is not a singular point where I began participating. Rather, it’s moments strung together with others spent disassociating, hiding, controlling, or obsessing. Though I’ve lived in LA a fraction of the time Nada has, I think I too have participated more here than anywhere else. So to answer your question Ella, it’s here...I think one’s favorite city is where they participate most frequently.
[Nick Cave would probably stop here but below is more context and insight on my experience with this.]
In Detroit my desire to move further from where I grew up blocked me from integrating fully into what I see now as an intimidatingly cool city. When I moved further I was thrilled to have an NYC address, since it was what I wished for every birthday since I saw Rent when I was 8. But when I finally had a NYC zip code I was in a long-distance relationship, and, afterwards, heartbroken for what would end up being the end of my time there, so I never quite found my footing.
I had moments of participation in both cities: Karolina in the fur coat in the back of the cab, Katy’s birthday in the back of Capri, the bridges early in the morning, Superiority burger in Tompkins, going the wrong way on the subway with Sacha…etc. But my time there was spent one foot in one foot out, working multiple jobs or working on my relationship—distracting me from full city participation.
When I got to LA, I was forced to participate. Days before a global lockdown, new to a city I’d only visited twice before, I had to interact with the people around me if I wanted human contact. I couldn’t put my energy towards work, or controlling my food, exercise, social calendar, or traveling. Car-less, I had to sit still. I had to participate, by asking for help—which if you know me, you know I despise doing.
I was living in a house with 3 strangers, then I moved to a house with one stranger. Roommate relationships never felt intimate in New York, but roommates in a pandemic became intimate by default. Intimacy to me means being seen and seeing someone else—even when you don’t want to be seen.
Intimacy requires participating rather than hiding. I wanted to be seen, but being seen and disliked is what I feared most. So I began playing a part to protect myself. Desperate for connection at a time that felt chaotic, I became an accommodating chameleon, which kept me safe from being unliked but also kept me from being known.
It wasn’t until I moved into my own apartment that I realized this. I felt the pandemic loneliness, plus the shame of having tried so hard to fit into a group. I needed to craft an identity after a year of contorting myself into what I thought others wanted.
Part of that discomfort was seeing my shadow—the parts of myself I disliked. The parts that are controlling or obsessive about how I’m perceived, etc. I’m actively working on improving these parts, but it takes time. And I am participating while in the process of changing.
Participating means feeling uncomfortable at times, and growth often happens when we’re uncomfortable.
As Bob Dylan said to Fiona Apple when she admitted to being nervous to sing on his record, “You’re not here to be perfect, you’re here to be yourself.”
We’re not living in our cities to be the perfect members of our friend groups, we're here to be ourselves.
We’re all moving through our weird little situations, telling each other about parts of them, and supporting each other at the capacity we can.
Lastly, what I’ve learned, having visited many cities and had mailing addresses in a few… they’re all the same. Yes in a clichéd “wherever you go there you are” sort of way but also literally. There is that same block with a cool vintage store and cool coffee shop—or maybe those things are spread out but if you look you’ll find your bar, your hair stylist, your sushi spot. And most importantly, you will find your people when you participate at those places.
Ella, find a place you like, sit still there for a while, commit, even if it is hard. Occasionally participation is frustrating… ie. attending a party when you’re overwhelmed and not even enjoying it. Or you staying in to get your tasks done but wishing you'd gone so much you get nothing done anyway. Discernment on when to participate is requires self-honesty to know if you are hiding out of fear or energy management.
So Ella, LA is my favorite city I’ve lived in because, like Nada, it is where I learned to participate. My hope for you is that you participate regardless of where you live.
Love,
Katie
2. Integrating shadow - In the episode with Nada, we spoke about shadow, the parts of ourselves we dislike and hide. What we hide we have to manage, and that takes energy that could be used to help others or on creative projects, etc. Stuffing those parts down is like pushing down a beach ball under water…eventually it’s going to pop up and make a huge splash. But if I just let it out, I don’t have to make it a big deal or use my energy to manage pushing it under. As my friend Lacy Philips says, “what you don’t own, owns you.” The energy expended pushing down parts of myself prevents it from being used elsewhere and prevents connection. We’re all kinda garbage but, as Mary Oliver says in Wild Geese (which I gushed about here), “[We] don't have to be good”. I focus less on being good, and more on doing good things.
3. “Swing at the balls coming at you”- Contemplating my level of participation in the different cities I’ve inhabited led me to feel regret about ways I failed to participate.
I recently complained to Isabel comparing myself to others my age, who have children, live in a place with more than one room, or own a home.
“That’s not the way it’s going to shake out for you at least in your early thirties," she said. "But you have to just swing at the balls that are coming at you rather than obsess about the ones that aren’t or else you’re going to get hit in the face by the balls that are coming at you.”
And there are so many good balls coming my way! I’m trying to manage my energy and emotions to have the capacity to swing at those. And whenever I feel as though I am lacking, I ask myself, “what am I not giving?” And I try to give more…it kinda helps.
3. Eating 2-3 Guavas On The Walk to Coffee- My first year here, I was floored by the abundance of fruit in my neighborhood—bags with signs that say, “Lemons–take some.” I’d never had a guava until my friend Gracyn (who was in middle school) gave me one in the car.
“So you don’t peel it?” I asked.
“No loser,” he said.
He told me they were his favorite on our weekly drive to the farmer’s market. A few weeks later, it seemed guavas were sprinkled all over my block. Now the smell and taste of them reminds me of my first fall here. And as Brian and I discussed at the end of this episode, there aren’t climate markers of seasons here so fruit is one of the few signals that shows the passage of time. And what a pleasant one–I prefer it to the most colorful foliage driving down the Taconic.
The Taconic, if you’re not familiar, is a freeway in upstate New York known for views of particularly beautiful fall foliage. It doesn’t allow billboards, a fact that has stuck with me since my friend Liz dressed up as the Taconic for Halloween and told me it was her favorite freeway in the world. So to say I prefer ripe guavas as my season marker over those colored leaves is really saying I love it here…
I hope you too, have a place you enjoy participating in as much as I do here.
Love,
Katie
PS. Below are my episodes with Nada and the mood boards for my online class In Process which just began but is both live and self-study so if you’d still like to join you can.
Images below:
1 | the last photo of me in NYC by Meg Navoy
2 | Photo of Gracyn I took on a disposable camera in 2020 and just found
3 | The first morning alone in 2020 from the same disposable camera
