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#14
“I think most people want to be aligned with their partner on politics.”
“Oh, sure—”
“I mean, that’s not crazy.”
“No, I get that.”
“Are you sure? [nervous laughter]”
“Well…I am opposed to human trafficking.”
Welcome to Bittersweet Pl. 🏚️
For the past 30 minutes, two dreamers have been on a date so audibly pained I had to put in headphones. But now I’m tuned in. So long as my brain is aware they’re struggling for survival, no white noise will be able to distract it. And so long as they’re discussing values with opposing sides like Sane Person and Pimp, why would I turn away at all?
I find myself tuning into my surroundings more often lately. Let’s just call it mindfulness—even if it tends towards snooping—and it’s a honed skill.
Imagine trying to listen to a neighboring table in a restaurant playing Dave Matthews Band at concert volume. Perhaps you’re sitting with your friends and they won’t stop badgering you with friendship. Whatever the case may be, being present with your surroundings requires supreme effort. Otherwise, you risk missing out on birdsongs and date flops, alike.
As is often the case, I’ve been writing to you—my favorite subscriber—in fits and starts. The other week, I damn near screamed at the top of my lungs while reading a passage from Sigrid Nunez’s “What Are You Going Through” because it expressed my feelings exactly.
“We put the words down as they must be put down, one after the other, but that is not life, that is not death, one word after the other, no, that is not right at all. No matter how hard we try to put the most important things into words, it is always like toe-dancing in clogs.”
“Yes! Yes!” I wished to yell on my flight into LAX, but I was not willing to face the consequences and, let’s be honest, this is not the newsletter for the most important things. You are currently reading Diet Reflection; I’ll let others write the Bible.
My loyal Subscriberati might recall me writing about a visit to Shitty Heaven during the earliest days of this newsletter. As I said then, “I’m not going to romance my time in Los Angeles because I’m not an ingénue with her head in the clouds. (Also, I write for the modern attention span.)”
But I will say that my visits always remind me of a day-long episode in 2023 when I listened to “Dreams” by The Cranberries about 150 times. Back then, as I walked multiple miles to grab coffee, Dolores O'Riordan painting…
Aah, la-ah-la-ah
La-ya-ya
La-ah-la-ah
La-ah, la-AHHH
…onto my brain, I sensed I was headed in the right direction.
And that’s Los Angeles to me. Whenever I’m there, wherever I go, I feel like I’m moving in some sort of divine motion. In reality, I’m just having another day-long episode, simulating my escape, distracted.
It’s an urge I’m trying very hard to resist.
In future dispatches, we may discuss the particulars of “being where your feet are,” but right now my best defense against distraction is, like I said, tuning into my surroundings.
So, as I stood in line for TRANSFORMERS™: The Ride-3D at Universal Studios Hollywood, I pushed away all daydreams of cross-country moves and being discovered in my late 30s. I stopped staring at my phone hard enough to black out and simply listened to the teenagers gabbing behind me.
“Oh, I loveee sushi.”
“I don’t really get it.”
“Low-key, it’s just like rice and fish, but it’s so good.”
“What about shawarma? It’s also a rice thing.”
“Yes! I love shawarma.”
“For real, shawarma is iconic.”
Which it is.
Together, we would defeat the Decepticons and save the world.
Epilogue:
Back in Chicago, I’m sitting on my stoop as a light rain falls. I-90 is humming over the wall of walk-ups and bungalows that shelter my building from the most explicit sounds of city travel. Above us all, lightning is tearing seams in the skyline.
This is a no good, very bad time to be sitting outside, and I am the only fool on my block. I’m smiling like I know a secret.
Legendary Post of the Week:
Would love to know the restaurant playing DMB at concert volume, sounds awesome