to be sorted later #15
in which I do not answer to "ma'am," even if you are yelling it at me
“to be sorted later” is a series in which I attempt to have fun on the internet again, namely, by sharing the latest things I am watching, reading, listening to, hating, loving, discovering, and otherwise sorting through in any particular week or season. Enjoy! Or don’t!
It’s been a big week over here at the ARH Substack HQ! I have two new followers since last week’s post! (Hi, Grandma E!)
In one of my many [G-rated] fantasies related to writing, I imagine starting my next Substack post after I’ve received a huge number of new subscribers. I thank my kindred spirit Patti Smith for reposting my last essay, or some other famous writer turned dear personal friend for gushing in her latest post how the ARH newsletter has become one of her Substack must-reads. Of course, all this naturally leads to landing an agent and a book deal! I quit my job! I go on an extended, paid trip to Europe to “research”! I write the book!
Shall I continue?
Oh, it’s good to have dreams, if only to prevent developing an ulcer from doom-scrolling on Instagram or staring at the ceiling worrying a fascist is about to be elected President of the US of A. Or to simply distract myself from how I felt earlier this week at Target (back again!), as I was picking out pimple patches next to two pre-teen girls doing the same. This is 40, everybody!
We’re having fun, right?
What I’m Sorting Through, Currently …
Weeping at the Movies, Again
Remember when I couldn’t stop crying watching “Sing Sing”? Turns out, that was nothing. Enter: “The Wild Robot” and “We Live in Time,” two recent, wildly unrelated films that both fully washed my face in my own tears, and at least once in each led to one of those awkward, strangle-sob-hiccup-noises. During “The Wild Robot” that strangle-sob-hiccup was rather funnily paired with a 5-year-old giggling and jumping out of his seat simultaneously. WHAT’S SO FUNNY, KID?! During “We Live in Time,” that didn’t matter much, as I’m fairly certain my movie date Phil was the only person not also weeping.
This is likely not the corner of the internet you turn to for a movie review, so I’ll just say that while both of these films have nothing remotely to do with one another, at the core, each are about love, and how we care for each other. Sometimes that’s a robot and a fox teaching an orphaned goose how to fly. Sometimes that’s a loving partner diligently taking notes at the oncologist’s office about a treatment plan.
I don’t know about you, but I think we could all benefit from some love like that right now.
Still Leaning into Spooky Season
I made the rather interesting (read: stupid) choice of visiting the Art Institute the Saturday of Chicago marathon weekend, so most of that visit was spent dodging humans and getting “ma’am”-ed by security for going in and out the wrong doors, a system I was supposed to inherently know and understand that had never otherwise existed until that day:
“MA’AM … MA’AM … ENTER ON THE OTHER SIDE … MA’AM!”
Listen. I do not acknowledge nor respond to a “ma’am,” because I am Rexanna’s daughter and also because it simply annoys the absolute fuck out of me. So how was I supposed to know she was talking to me? Why did it matter if I walked in through the left doors instead of the right?
So if all that wasn’t scary enough, I then viewed some exceptionally spooky art:
On Repeat
San Fermin released the strings versions of their latest album, Arms. Here’s one of my favorites:
Have a great weekend. Tomorrow I’m going on my 3rd annual cemetery walk with my friend Lindsay! Isn’t the end of October grand!?
previously:
to be sorted later #14
Her eyes were wide open and dark with knowledge. “They laughed at me. Threw things. They’ve always laughed.”