Welcome to The Restless Lens, where you’ll find my personal interests, inspirations, ideas, and work, hosted outside the walls of social media; independent and strange, eclectic and completely un-monetizable, the way the internet should be.
About The Restless Lens
The Key and the String
A Brief Guide to My Emoji Usage
The Magical Times of Day
The Knowledge it Takes
Mapping Above and Below the City
Kill The Parking
The Eastern Capital
No Home Go Home
The Vulnerability of Sensitivity
Expression, curation, and exploration. Check out specific categories in the menu above, or the full stream below.
Imagine all the television shows living on like ghosts in the cacophonous subconscious of media-saturated America: the classics, yes, but also the ones that never aired for a whole season, and the ones that managed to drag on pointlessly for years, and the epoch television events that became national experiences, …
Every week or so, I take all the little scribbles I accumulate in various apps and on strange, half-forgotten scraps of paper and I file them in their proper place in my system; a process I call my notebook démêler (h/t to the Cajuns of my wife’s homeland for the term, which is a fantastic way of saying “de-messification”). Today I was doing all this de-messificaiton and I noticed my list of books to read was kind of outdated (new books to add, books I’ve read to remove). Anyway, my point is that in the ten minutes it took me to update the list, I somehow managed to buy yet another book of poetry. Typical.
Also: to all the publishers who are thoughtful enough to include a page that helps you set the text size correctly on your e-reader so the poem line breaks are shown correctly, thank you, thank you, thank you. And thank you for publishing poets.
The world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able to truly care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the “rat race” — the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing. I know that this stuff probably doesn’t sound fun and breezy or grandly inspirational. What it is, so far as I can see, is the capital-T Truth, with a whole lot of rhetorical niceties stripped away. You are, of course, free to think of it whatever you wish.
– David Foster Wallace, This is Water (pdf)
Just reading that you can imagine a little bit of how hard it must have been for Wallace to operate day in and day out with an awareness of the world this raw and difficult and intimate. I never met him, but miss this man sooooooo much.
You should distrust any language that uses the same word for libre and gratis.
– Laia Jufresa, Umami