🫖 Good morning, Tea drinkers. Today’s theme was inspired by a response to the open thread. The commenter recommended “Mi Bebito Fiu Fiu” by Tito Silva, describing it as a song that tells a story to the tune of another song that tells a story. What a tantalizing web! I had a lot of fun reading the comments, and heartily encourage more! It’s open any time you have something to say. 🫖
“Changed”
On Tuesday, I received a royal purple envelope in the mail addressed to a previous tenant,1 adorned with a black and white (though purple-hued) image of a young boy cupping his face with his two hands. He was cute enough in the way that all kids are cute enough. It was entitled “Changed” in fine, golden WordArt.
In a feckless act of mail fraud, I tore into the specimen to find a book. Side-by-side, the book and envelope looked like a snake that had shed its skin: nearly identical, though one rumpled and deflated.
The first words on the back of the self-published tome beckoned with the following:
“An Invitation to Join One Man’s Journey from Lost and Defiled to Found and Cleansed…” [capitalization sic]
Drawn to the eerie language of defilement and cleansing, I was intrigued enough to read the rest of the back cover and leaf through a few passages. TLDR: it’s the story of a man’s life squeezed into the narrative arc of bad to good. I was hoping that there would be some juicy descriptions of his “sexual defilements” “in Europe” in the chapter “I am Dirty,” but sadly the prose was vague.
One of the most gobsmacking elements of this whole story is imagining a man single-handedly paying to send thousands of copies of his own book to strangers in other cities. The back cover was stamped with the price of $8.95. But, I got it for freeeee?? It’s kind of a legendary PR stunt. I know his intention was to spread salvation rather than generate buzz, but you have to hand it to him… I didn’t not Google him after getting his book in the mail.
As it turns out, the 71-year-old Tom Cantor is a multi-hyphenate king: author, podcaster, Jew-for-Jesus, provocateur, and founder of Scantibodies Clinical Laboratory (which has 2.4 stars on Google Reviews and the tagline “Harnessing God’s Elegant Antibody Creation” lmao). Oh, I forgot to mention—he’s a multimillionaire from a federal whistleblower lawsuit against Quest Diagnostics.
This certainly explains the eternal spring of his marketing budget. Content aside, perhaps there’s something to learn from his strategy. If I ever have the fortune to win some grand personal injury settlement, I’ll be sure to self-publish a collection of unhinged essays to carpet bomb metropolitan mailboxes nationwide.
It makes me think of the hilariously negative response to U2’s free album “Songs of Innocence” that was sprung upon the iTunes libraries of unsuspecting millions in 2014.
If there’s one thing that people hate, it’s being told what to do. But, it is without a doubt that more people happened to listen to that late-stage U2 album than would have otherwise, just as more people leafed through “Changed” than if it did not appear in people’s mailboxes, all purpley and unsolicited.
Jokes aside, the real reason I’ve brought you here today is to invite you to follow my journey of rising from the muck into eventual salvation….
Speaking of change, I recently watched the first episode of the Victoria’s Secret docuseries and had a chuckle when the next day, I was spoon-fed the following advertisement on TikTok:
Yasssss, queen! It’s all out in the open and Victoria no longer has any secrets. If the parade of not homogenously white-thin-able-bodied-young boobies didn’t convince you that the brand has changed…. then go to the link in their bio that takes you to a web page entitled “VS Now: Advocating for Women Today.” This is progress, folks! Plastic push-up bras “imported” from international sweatshops are for everyone now.
The Pits
My life is kind of a mess right now. In the pits, as they say.
Two more notes on pits:
I. On Stone fruits
Thinking about things embedded in other things, my mind goes to one of the redeeming qualities of summer. Peaches, nectarines, cherries, plums, apricots. What great fruits. I bought some nectarines from a cart in Midtown on Friday. The pits were in the fruits were in a black plastic bag were in a canvas tote I carried home.
II. On Sinkholes
A coworker showed me a video of a ravenous sinkhole that bit a chunk out of the Bronx this week. It also gobbled up a parked van, if that’s something you need to see. If you’re someone that humanizes motor vehicles based on the way that their headlights look like a little face, then definitely don’t look up pictures of cars being swallowed by sinkholes. Oh, the calamity!
INT. LIVING ROOM ON A STAGE - NIGHT
The backup dancers were six lamps—three matching pairs. They cast black silhouettes against a backdrop of changing colors: earthy reds, lavenders, and oranges. The stage was also punctuated with a series of patterned area rugs, softening the ground beneath the drum set, amps, and microphone stands. It was a domestic scene, embedded in a performance space, which is so ordinary in theater, but felt so fresh in a concert setting.
I’ve had a very Courtney Barnett week. Last week, I saw her documentary Anonymous Club, which I can’t recommend highly enough. On Thursday, I saw her perform at Radio City.
The concert was gorgeous, and her music filled me with a percolating hope that I can live 1000 lives if I wish to.
5 Songs Embedded in this Newsletter
It’s all about layers, baybay.
“Thawing Dawn,” A. Savage
This song sounds like poetry, probably because it is. You may recognize Andrew Savage’s voice from his more well-known project, Parquet Courts, or his less well-known band Teenage Cool Kids. He has one of those juicy, resonant voices. I love it and I hope you do too!
“Started smoking to keep up with my friends. I learned to love the feeling when I’m breathing it in, but I’m a lonely lighthouse shining by the sea on a cliff dragging in solitude.”
“Need A Little Time,” Courtney Barnett
I couldn’t have so much Courtney talk without throwing her a bone in the playlist. This song slaps; that’s all I really have to say.
“You seem to have the weight of the world upon your bony shoulders. Well hold on, you need a little time out. You need a little time out.”
“LAUGHINGLAUGHING,” Frost Children
This song is genuinely unhinged. I admit that I enjoyed the profile of the Frost Children on the Perfectly Imperfect newsletter more than their actual music, but this song cracks me up because it feels like the auditory manifestation of this emoji: 👹
“👹 Hehehehe 👹 hehe 👹 hahaha 👹 hahahahaha 👹”
“I’ve Seen All Good People: a. Your Turn b. All Good People,” Yes
I was hooked on this song early in the pandemic, spinning conspiracies in my head that it somehow predicted the absurdity of life spent quarantining on Zoom. Constantly surrounding yourself with yourself. Moving back squares. I don’t know. But it is a classic example of a song with multiple songs in it. It quite literally has an a. and b. in its title.
“Don’t surround yourself with yourself. Move on back two squares.”
“Chronoluxe Intro,” Oberhofer
There’s something about a well-placed clap track in an album that captures my little heart. This is an album that plays fabulously from start to finish, and “Chronoluxe Intro” is the first track on the deluxe album. Putting clapping sounds into a digitally recorded album is a lovely artifice—hijacking the live experience and making it part of the music itself as a new commodity.
🫖 Thanks for reading! Here’s to digging our way out of the pits. 🫖
Dana was a dentist, I’ve gleaned, from the various dental correspondences that continue to appear in my mailbox.