This version of the column first appeared in Stepinitely, columnist Stephanie Hayes’ weekly newsletter featuring bonus columns and behind the scenes chatter. Subscribe to get it in your inbox every Monday.
I don’t want to talk about the news
I would like to talk about the Rose Teaspoon Building, which lives near a pond in my neighborhood. Aninga, who sits on the shore and spreads her wings, makes the wind flapping.
I would like to analyze the mental difference between the 65 degrees of the sun and the 65 degrees of the grey drizzle.
I’d like to try out mystical signature lattes at a coffee shop. Perhaps the awful are oddly persuasive for reasons we don’t understand yet.
I would like to go somewhere for dinner but it’s mostly ice so I regret ordering it. I want to wear good shoes, not flat, not comfortable, not good shoes.
I want to take photos of discounted used books obtained from Friends of the Library Sale.
I would like to ask the woman at the cafe with her lips and cracked hands. I want to hear her story.
I want to sing off-key song songs with friends who understand that doing so is a kind of religion.
I want my brain to exercise vigorously because my brain gets overheated and just darker like an iPhone.
I want to light a little lavender candle and lower the lamp and curl it into the corner of the sofa, then go away under so many blankets that I sink to the bottom of the ocean.
I want to smile at strangers and believe they are kind.
Everyday cruelty, manipulation, strategy, gamemanship, half the truth, complete lies, briefings, statements, confusion, panic, bravery, hubrifying, pride that may not go before autumn. Scroll through memes, watch videos, listen to podcasts, read websites, interrogate history, broach the market for ideas, unpack the atmosphere shift, capture a new generation or think from a different perspective, unscrew threads, and understand where they are coming from.
I want to drop my shoulders.
I don’t want to talk about it.
