Asocialcaterpillar - Still, A Great Deal Of Light Falls On Everything

More of This, Please

by Emily Senaker

In grad school I had a writing teacher who’d completely cream my essays. Cross-outs and tracked changes. He took me at my word When I said I wanted to get better. But when he liked something, he’d point to what was working: More of this, please. Did I mention he was British? This is important because lately, whenever something is really working, I tend to think to myself, in a British accent: More of this, please. A lunch date turned dinner date with a dreamboat who is slightly embarrassed his eyes water in cold weather. Him looking like he’s tearing up at Shake Shack. More of this, please. A toddler turning to me at the park holding her hair tie, asking me to fix her ponytail. Her grandmother nodding to go right ahead, my hands collecting wisps of yellow. More of this, please. Any time my family is honest about mental health, what my grandparents were up against. This. Cough-drop wrappers that say, Bet on yourself. Pop-up concerts in the city. Stevie Wonder playing Songs in the Key of Life at 10am on a Monday, hundreds of people stopping midcommute in button-ups and blazers belting out every word to “Sir Duke” and “Isn’t She Lovely,” saying, “My boss is just going to have to understand!” The subway tiles under Carnegie Hall with names of performers who played there: Lena Horne, September 29, 1947. The Beatles, February 12, 1964. Dance classes with live drummers. An editor saying, “I’ll pass this on,” instead of, “I’ll pass on this.” A stranger falling asleep on my shoulder for several stops. Staring at dates in authors’ bios: Ruth Stone, 1915-2011. Larry Levis, 1946-1996. Recommitting to living as much as I can. Realizing the dash between the year you’re born and the year you die is smaller than your smallest fingernail. It’s smaller than a strand of saffron in a bottle the size of a thimble in a spice shop across the street.

seffis

Midnight sun and light rain in Senja🌧✨

i dont claim to be an expert on love but i think theres something to like… ok so my girlfriend got undertale on the switch a while back, right? and she’s definitely not a bad videogamer but it takes practice yknow, esp when youre doing a neutral route and actually fight stuff. so when she got to the hardest bosses i took the controller and beat them for her. not because she couldn’t, but because i love her. and that’s what my brother did when i was a kid playing sonic adventure 2 or whatever, not because i was dumb but because he was good at it and he loved me. and when i want my girlfriend to read something (a post, an essay, a novel) but she’s too tired to actually read so it i read it to her and i do silly voices and she laughs and we have more fun that way. when you hand a water bottle to your friend and they open it without you even having to ask. when you spent a million years fixing the flat tire on your bike and then your dad just takes the tools and does it for you. its not a judgement, it’s just a service. you could do it yourself, but why should you have to when you are loved?

an author i love just tweeted about how “big joy and small joy are the same” and how she was just as content the other night eating chocolate and cuddling her dog as she was on her Big Trip to new york and honestly. i think that’s it. this morning i was listening to an audiobook while baking shortbread in my joggers and i realised i really didn’t care what Big Things happened in my future as long as i could keep baking and reading at the weekend and maybe that is the kind of bar we have to set to guard ourselves against disappointment. just appreciate and cherish the mundane stuff and see everything else as a bonus.

book dedications are so tender here is this piece of art i made for an audience of thousands. but really every word is for you