the Johnny Cash school of obsession.

a (re)introduction to my work/this newsletter

autumn’s eve. <3

Dear ones, 

On Monday, P and I broke bread with two dear comrades over candlelight and local flowers and a laptop screen featuring a conversation between the writers Hanif Abdurraqib and Danny Caine. It was the digital kick-off of the Inkubator Conference that Literary Cleveland hosts every year, initially slated to be a conversation between Abdurraqib and Christina Sharpe—Sharpe got sick, but Caine and Abdurraqib provided us with an incredibly nourishing beginning to the week nonetheless. As is usually the case when I read or hear Hanif¹, I am left haunted by his words for days into weeks (then punctuated again months and years later, just the refrain of his voice saying “I will survive my grief, amen” like an earworm I never want to shake). This time I was left twirling two things like twine between my palms: his broad and beautiful definition of “ekphrasis” and his allegiance to the Johnny Cash school of obsession.

First, the bit on ekphrasis: ekphrasis is a term from the poetry world—it’s a literary device used to describe a piece of art in vivid detail. Common examples include John Keates’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” Anne Sexton’s “The Starry Night,” Allen Ginsberg’s “Cézanne’s Ports.”² Write a poem about a piece of art, pretty basic combo. But Hanif extends this in a way that makes so much sense to me: “Many of us live in an ekphrasis mindset,” he said on Monday. “We are often executing ekphrasis storytelling…creating a story based off of that witnessing. I don’t ever want to move beyond that desire to say, I saw something and I know that you were not there to see it. But I can build the world wherein you felt like you have witnessed it alongside me.” (!)

He goes on to explain that he cut his teeth writing in punk fanzines. This was adjacent to my entry point into Hanif’s work—his poem about a Defiance, Ohio show that made my entire body feel like I was in a basement with dirty punks again. So anyway, I am thinking about this, and how I’ve never really felt bold enough to call myself a cultural critic, because what I really am is a fucking fan. Sure I’m a fan with a PhD in Critical Media/Cultural Studies, but I watch and read and listen to things with a hope to love them. And I want to tell you about it, especially if you love it too. (And then you can say, “oh my god, YES, me too!” And then we can spit on alienation through relishing in art, and that’s why I believe there will still be lavish storytelling when the worst of empire falls.)

So the second thing gloriously lingering in my mind is the Johnny Cash school of obsession. Danny said he heard somewhere that artists’ really only write about three things their entire careers, that they’re trying to get at three major themes kind of no matter what the specific subject is. Hanif agreed and clarified that this came from Johnny Cash who said he only ever wrote songs about Love, God, and Murder. Hanif’s big three, he declared, are: Place, Devotion, and Grief. If you’ve ever read any of Hanif’s work, this makes sense instantly.

So this is all a big preface to say, I want to re-introduce myself to the thousands (!) of new readers I’ve gained in the past year, and I want to do so via the Johnny Cash school of Obsession.

This was really hard to determine, and I’m still not sure I strictly abide the logic, but it was still a fun way to share a smattering of some of my posts that newer folks may have missed, and to try to give a glimpse of what you’ll get here at radical love letters. This was my original brainstorm: 

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I narrowed it down to: Awe & the Everyday—I frequently write with wonder (alongside grief or pain) about banal everyday things, and usually that’s intertwined with the godliness I feel from nature and human connection and other sacred boring things. Liberation—I’m an anarchist, and have been some form of radical Leftist since 2001; my current focus (via my current book project) is interrogating how to approach sex from a truly radical framework (which requires a lot of criticism of feminism), but my writerly commitment to liberation has also shown up with focuses on labor, social spaces, and many other social movements. Art/Culture (aka fangirling)—as I said above, I fucking love music, movies, tv shows, and books. I’ve honestly gone through periods where I’ve tried to not write about pop/culture, but I’ve failed. If you become a paid subscribe to the newsletter, every week you get me fangirling usually in pretty smart ways (I think/hope!) about each of these categories. I don’t know how to not gush (or sometimes rant) about the art I consume. <3³ 

Below! Some examples of past posts that fit into these Big 3 Johnny Cash School of Obsessions. Now here’s the really fun part: I am going to start a thread on the Substack Chat so folks can share their own Big 3. I am genuinely so interested to know how others might define their work (even if you think three things is too limiting, maybe just a fun exercise?). You’re welcome to leave a comment below, but I find the chat feature usually encourages more engagement.

Finally, we have arrived at the final day of the summer sale! If you dig what you see, consider supporting the newsletter and getting access to all the goodies for just $30. It’ll bump up to $45 after the 21st. Thank you for being here either way. (Oh, hey also, while I’m promo-ing: buy my memoir, Rust Belt Femme!) <3 

 

AWE & THE EVERYDAY 

like proof.

a staccato pattern of living.

compelled, i think, to motion.

LIBERATION

"...to think and feel a then and there."

ART/CULTURE (aka fangirling) 

when queer punks gather.

1. Switching to first name now because it’s hard not to feel intimacy after his talks, and because he himself talks about parasocial closeness with artists he loves, and because, actually, we kinda know each other irl, nbd. (He has an admirable commitment to lesser-known writers, especially ones from Ohio. <3)

2. I googled Frank O’Hara’s “Having a Coke with You” + ekphrasis, but nothing came up, which profoundly disappoints me. The last line, to me, sums up what Hanif says later about the beauty of an ekphrasis modality: “which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I’m telling you about it.”

3. Before I published this, one of my favorite writers ever,

Cameron Steele

, posted an extraordinarily generous roundup of lunar recs, with humbling descriptions of many newsletter authors. Her description of my work is maybe even better than this whole post, so thank you Cameron for seeing me like this: “For brilliant, class-based analyses of pop culture, feminism, and film, as well as critical-theory informed narrative about what it feels like to age, work, be in community, do activism, teach, write, and delight in beauty as a queer femme/woman, start and stay with Raechel Anne Jolie. I’ve relished teaching Jolie’s essays to my students in the past, particularly her essay on girl culture and the failures of feminism, which is truly the best Barbie film analysis available. Jolie strikes a tone of generosity and sharpness that I have tried and failed to emulate for years. She’s a prodigious writer whose essays and notes about illness, celebrity, and social media in the time of genocide should be touchstones for us all.” (*sobbing emoji*). And if you are somehow not reading Cameron’s gorgeous and brilliant interruptions, remedy that now. She weaves literature, theory, astrology, and personal narrative so evocatively and precisely. I am admittedly always slightly jealous (in a loving compersion-y way though!) after finishing her essays— her talent just drips from the proverbial pages.