For a Good Life and Good Art, Appreciate the Little Things
I just visited my friend, Brad (not this one, another one), and he told me that the thing he loves most about me is how I appreciate the little things. I wasn’t always so appreciative. Actually, I probably sounded overly entitled in my youth. But as an artist, I’ve always realized the importance of details for the creation of good art. I just didn’t always realize the importance of details to living a good life.
Art imitates life, and good art is always detailed. You appreciate the little things an artist offers in their art. Marcel Proust was the best at this. Hunter S. Thompson also knew “the Devil is in the details,” and his details were uniquely devilish. But these two writers came to the same realization despite living very different lives.
Proust spent most of his life in bed. He was constantly sick. Thompson spent most of his life awake. He was constantly inebriated. But both were voracious readers, and both learned to appreciate the little things by consuming that art. Proust waxes poetic about the smell of a certain tea and cookie combination that inspires a memory long lost. Thompson waxes poetic about an LSD and ether combination that inspires behavior of the lost.
The best art best imitates life, and the best life is lived by those who appreciate the little things as the best things. The most depressed I’ve ever been was during the Presidential term of Donald Trump. But during those four hellish years, I found a way to appreciate the little things in my life. Before that disaster, I was overly active in politics. I participated at the federal level, lobbying for federal cannabis legalization in the same building overrun by Right-wing, domestic terrorists. I participated at the state level, writing legislation to legalize cannabis in my home state and running a signature-gathering campaign. I participated at the local level, starting multiple nonprofits to grow participation in ice sports. I also covered politics as a newspaper journalist at every level for over half a decade. I even gambled on politics.
During the Trump Administration, I grew tired of covering the shenanigans of a psycho. It was in writing a piece comparing eerily similar stories of Attorney General appointments by the Nixon and Trump Administrations that made me realize we had hit rock bottom. And everything looks pretty good when you’ve hit rock bottom, including…
The Lesser of Two Evils
After the Georgia runoff elections were decided, I called my buddy, Brad, and asked, “The lesser of two evils ain’t too bad, is it?” The Democrats had just secured control of the Senate, with a Black/South Asian woman having the tiebreaker vote. Brad appreciated that little thing; Brad’s cynical brother had to remind us the Black/South Asian woman was a prosecutor with a history of being “tough on crime.” But nothing was going to make me sad on that day. The news had me dancing the distance from my bed to the bathroom. I was singing Ray Charles’ “Georgia On My Mind” on the toilet. Speaking of the toilet…
A Good Toilet Read
I told my friend, Chad (yes, this one), that one of the most influential moments of my life occurred on the toilet. No, it wasn’t when I learned my Minnesota Twins had signed Joe Mauer to a long-term contract, although that also occurred on the toilet. I used to live in a hippy house where we regularly had live, acoustic folk performances in the living room and regularly ran out of toilet paper. I once found myself on the toilet after a movement without said toilet paper and figured I’d wait in hopes that a roommate would come home with some. I had a good read after all —‌ The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. It was a short read. So short I finished it right there on the toilet, and I don’t even remember if I ended up wiping with toilet paper or newspaper because my life view was so significantly altered by that moment —‌ and movement. Speaking of movements, let’s make some…
Coffee and Cigarettes…or, Preferably, Spliffs
My friend Sam and I used to start the day by rolling our own Bali Shag cigarettes to pair with black coffee. We seldom had milk in that hippy house, too, but there weren’t days I enjoyed starting more than those. Sometimes we’d have pie for breakfast at the Western Cafe, which was only open on Saturdays. If you haven’t had pie or cake with ice cream for breakfast, you need to do that as soon as possible. But coffee and cigarettes go together like cake and ice cream. Jim Jarmusch wouldn’t make a movie about it if it wasn’t true. Think I’ll step out for half a heater and half a swig.
Your Childhood Favorite Rap Album Played as Loud as it Ought to Be
I grew tired of listening to my childhood favorite rap album, Redman’s Malpractice, at max volume and it not being near loud enough. One song called “Dat Bitch” is especially dear to my heart because the lyrics aren’t derogatory, but completely complimentary. “Dat Bitch” is a special woman. Missy Elliot makes an appearance on the track, which almost always inspires me to dance. I finally bought the vinyl record on Discogs and will never be dancing while wishing I could turn up the volume. These are the little things that make life worth living. Appreciate the little things; they are the best of things.
