Happy November, folks—
I’m sitting here on my couch watching what has in ten minutes turned from a full tornado warning and torrential downpour to a bright blue sky. It feels representative of the world these days, which seems to shift minute by minute, and none of us can truly keep up. There is fear there, in knowing the impermanence of everything. But there is also freedom. I’m holding on to that.
Resources for your weekend, below…
We dropped a new podcast episode with the wonderful humans of 723 Collective this week. You can listen above, or on Apple Podcasts, as well as on our Substack. The full transcript from the episode can be found here. And just as another plug for how great they are— check out this video below. What!!! So good.
This is a great essay in JSTOR by Phillip Vance Smith II, the incarcerated editor who runs North Carolina’s prison newspaper, Nash News. There’s lots of writing programs that work with incarcerated writers— I can personally speak for the Columbia Incarcerated Writers Initiative, which I read submissions from as an undergrad— but I recommend finding ways to get involved in your state. I think this quote from Smith speaks volumes: “For me, education does not serve a long-term purpose of supporting my survival after prison, because I will likely never leave. I have nevertheless sought to conquer my own ignorance in pursuit of personal change, even when the lack of educational opportunities forced me to become an autodidact. Creative writing changed my life.”
I will not tolerate any North Carolina slander:
This is for everyone in New York City who told me the stories of my family read like a “better Hillybilly Elegy”. Please, for all of us, seek out and acquire diverse rural stories, and stop equating rural narrative with this POS.
And a reminder in the wake of this week’s election results that voting happens only every few years but showing up with love and support and community for each other is an action we can take every day— and one of the most important acts of humanity we can take. We save each other.
I have not stopped thinking about this Adrienne Rich poem all week, and I don’t think I ever will:
But if anyone ever asks, my favorite poem of all time is Richard Siken’s “Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”