A little exercise in love

Snails, disco balls and other small joys

Ok, I’ve discovered a small exercise to do which is weirdly enjoyable and also grounding - writing a list of things you love. Earlier this year, a short time before they died, the wonderful American poet Andrea Gibson wrote a list of the things they loved, which was such a beautiful nod to life. You can read it here, but this will give you a taste. You can’t help but smile reading it.

“I love scared rescue dogs who can’t live in homes with small children. I love the kids in junior high talent contests who always forget their lines. I love the nervous love in their parents’ chests. I love mother starlings racing home to their babies’ open and rowdy beaks. I love the perfect smiles of people with crooked teeth.

I love daydreaming about the pep talks butterflies give to depressed caterpillars. I love that bumblebees taste with their feet. I love when it’s so cold out I can walk atop the sparkling snow. I love tiny libraries. I love stained glass windows in people’s homes.”

So I decided to do the same, in honour of them, and it was so fun to do I’ve been encouraging everyone I know to do the same. I turned it into a Sydney Morning Herald/Age column, which you can read in full here, but this is a sample:

“I love the honesty of children. I love that once I asked my young son what he saw in my eyes and he said ‘cannonballs and red lightning’. I love the raw fury of toddlers’ balled-up fists and the insouciance of teenagers’ rolling eyes.

I love the ridiculous racket cockatoos make. I love that when you strip the human heart of muscle and fat it looks like a sea fan, intricate and delicate. I love people who lack rhythm but dance like fiends. I love the colours and quiet determination of lichen. I love hyper focus. I love the way children paint. I love the feeling of sun on my back after a swim. I love closing my eyes and stretching my limbs out in the water and floating, salt columns bearing me up….

I love that garden snails have 14,000 teeth. It seems both excessive and necessary somehow.

I love the way old men blow their noses the way a novice might blow a tuba.

I love the way dogs stare up at us the way we stare at the moon.”

If you can, set aside some time to write down the things you love. I’d love to read some of them, too, if you’d like to send them… such a good way to appreciate this magnificent earth. (Although I did laugh when I saw the SMH had printed this photo of me dancing – because I had said I loved mirrored glitter balls and also referenced people who dance like fiends even when they lack rhythm. But the caption they used was – “Give me a mirrored disco ball to dance under, and why not a rhythm-challenged dancing partner?” – without realising the man in the mirrored hat is a good friend of mine – and, it now must be said – does not lack rhythm).

Some stuff I’ve done

Well this week it was the birthday of my sparkly Not Stupid co-host Jeremy Fernandez. A man who makes everything more fun. And because he had to host something in the daytime on Wednesday, our usual record day, we decided to go early on Monday morning and get something in the can ahead of time. Our topic? The Christian nationalism in Charlie Kirk’s funeral and also the indefinite suspension of late-night TV host Jimmy Kimmel. We woke the next morning to discover Kimmel’s suspension had been lifted and he would return to air. Good news for American democracy and the first amendment, but precisely what you don’t want to hear when you’ve pre-recorded an episode. We jumped into the radio studio to re-record that bit and chew over broader implications for free speech and the prospect of government-fuelled corporate censorship, especially given many ABC affiliates have refused to air Kimmel’s show now. So, if any of you are eagle eyed or owl-eared, you may detect that the Youtube/TV version of Not Stupid differs from the pod version, and now, dear listeners, you know why. Tune in here!

Stuff I’m into

For many years I have been a devoted listener of Terry Gross’s daily interview show Fresh Air, which she has hosted for an incredible fifty years now. She’s so smart and insightful, always places herself in the background of any interview and manages to magically wreak revelations from her subjects, mostly because she listens so well and does deep research. As a star of Philadelphia public radio, she represents, in my view, the best of public broadcasting at a time it has been under siege in the United States. (She has suggested the danger to public broadcasting may come from people mistakenly conflating journalism – including fact checking, calling to account, investigating lies or fraud - with liberalism.)

A number of people – quite a storied crew – have walked out of interviews with her – Monica Lewinsky (for asking about why she had called Bill Clinton a “sexual soul mate” in her book before describing giving him a blow job while he was on the phone to a colleague – Terry found this jarring but was also uncomfortable asking about it, and it hasn’t dated well), Adam Driver (probably because he hates having clips of his movies played and she played one of him singing). Bill O’Reilly also walked out after being asked some challenging questions “about whether he used the microphone to settle scores or to get even with people”. A creepy Gene Simmons said to her: “If you want to welcome me with open arms, you’ll also have to welcome me with open legs.” (Why does that sound like he had said this before?) Quentin Tarantino was upset when she asked him why he used the n-word so often in his movies and about the cultural impact of movies featuring gun violence.

I’ve always been fascinated by her technique. She doesn’t do interviews face to face, she prefers doing them over the phone, in a dark room with closed curtains, just listening to the guest. She told Jimmy Fallon she loves having the “superpower of invisibility on radio”.

Anyway she so rarely talks about herself that when I saw Sam Fragaso had interviewed her, I was excited. It’s a thoughtful chat with a man she clearly respects. She is quite vulnerable given her jazz critic husband of several decades just died, so she cries a little and laughs too. There are some wonderful insights on John Updike, who she loved, John Didion and Maurice Sendak. She’s the real deal. I love her.

Look after yourselves this week. And remember all the things you love.

Love,

Julia