Back to looking up
Reading Ben Lerner's Leaving the Atocha Station, Momo Yamaguchi's Hello Limerence, Natalia Ginzburg’s The Dry Heart and Clarice Lispector’s Hour of the Star
My main thing these days is looking up through the telescope.
When I was a teenager I was crazy about the stars. One summer at my grandmother’s country house I had a guide to the night sky, and I’d read it and find my way around, naming things, tracing the shapes. Then I went looking for more, the proper scientific books, and I didn’t understand them. I genuinely thought I was stupid. Hence the wonder thinned out. After a while I stopped looking up.
Cut to June, I finally worked out how to assemble the telescope my husband gifted me, and I saw the Moon for the first time (after many hours of trying to find it lol). CLOSE UP! There she was, with her acne marks. My wonder came straight back, like it had only been waiting.
Clothes and Kit
I bought a yellow t-shirt from Montbell. Yellow, a colour I’ve seldom worn, and wearing it out I felt everyone clocking me, everyone thinking look at her, she’s wearing yellow, how bizarre.
Testing my new Altra Peaks in Dulwich Park, then in the gym. Another blister, which recovered fine, and I think they’re the most comfortable sneakers I have right now.
A summer clean of the wardrobe turned into insane activity on Vinted. Selling pieces, parcel runs throughout.
Same energy in the skincare drawer, which I tidied and pared down to a finish basket. Mainly trying to use up the Beauty of Joseon moisturiser, the Isamaya gel, the barrier serum by The Ordinary.
Ollie Quinn is closing now, so I went to Ace and Tate to try on the three frames I’d picked out online. Bad news. I liked all three.
Most importantly, back to weightlifting alongside the physio. Did insane stuff with my quads, so proud.
Coming back to this article I fully drafted back in June - I’ve replaced weights with swimming twice in the day. I’ve got one more week to enjoy the salt on my tongue. Then back to weights, and most definitely ping pong!
Reading
I’ve read quite a lot of books following my Camino trip. I particularly enjoyed Ben Lerner’s Leaving the Atocha Station. Adam, the narrator, is a poet on a fellowship in Madrid who suspects his whole life is a fraud, his poems, his grief, his Spanish, his relationships. Nothing happens, in the plot sense. What moves the book is a mind doubling back on itself, a narrator who forms an intention and then watches himself doubt it, perform it, undo it.
Read Hello Limerence by Momo Yamaguchi recently published by Faber. The cover is amazing. I got the vibe of it, what it was reaching for, it just didn’t reach far enough. Mika is delusional and obsessive but also passive, and passive isn’t very interesting to sit with. The book is character-driven and then doesn’t go deep on its character, which is where it falls flat. The execution stayed too shallow for any of it to land the way I wanted.
In the Neighbourhood
Dropped by Choosing Keeping and London Graphic Centre for new stickers and watched the horses go by for Trooping the Colour.
With my book club, I got invited to the Women’s Prize Annual Summer Party. Champagnes in hand, we watched the fiction and non-fiction winners announced. Our book club met Judith Mackerell, who gave us the biggest hug. I left warm and fuzzy with a copy of The Kingfisher.
For June, we did a double-bill book club and read Natalia Ginzburg’s The Dry Heart and Clarice Lispector’s Hour of the Star—both revolving around death/killing and one’s agency. We convened in the park this time and met some new joiners. I wonder if they will come back in August for To Rest Our Minds and Bodies.
I MC’ed the first Chener Readings, where Eve Wyles, Grace Murray, Joe Conroy and Gurnaik Johal read from their debuts. I took film pictures and sweated all night. The next one, we’re having Harriet Armstrong, Dorothy Dunn, Lucie Elven, Ekin Oklap, and Ben Pester!
Eating
Chatsworth Bakehouse. Peach and mozzarella sarnies for the road, a malted milk maritozzo and a cinnamon bun for tea, olive focaccia for the week. INSANE.
