Collective effervescence

From the outside, it’s easy to roll our eyes at devotees of everything from Taylor Swift to “Star Trek.” We deem them nerdy or frivolous, judge their costumes, the time they waste on Reddit, the money they spend on concert tickets.

What if they’ve figured out something the rest of us haven’t?

After all, so many of us lack community. Data from Cigna finds 58% of Americans are lonely. Religion is fading. Work doesn’t love us back. Maybe letting ourselves be obsessed with that highly specific and possibly weird thing we love is the answer…

“If it brings you joy, why not do more of it?” the 33-year-old architect asked, clad in an “Aladdin”-print dress. A photo of her and her husband wearing mouse ears hung on the wall behind her on our Zoom call.

More than six in 10 Americans said hobbies or recreational activities were extremely or very important to them, according to a 2023 poll from Gallup. That’s up from 48% in 2001 and 2002. Meanwhile, the share of people who said the same about religion dropped 7 percentage points, to 58%.

Picture a crowd swaying in unison to a beloved song. Everyone assembled feels the same emotion simultaneously, says Paul Booth, a professor of media and pop culture at DePaul University. The euphoria catches and builds. The experience, known as “collective effervescence,” can feel transcendent, he says, almost telepathic. “I think it has to do with wanting something in our lives that we can lose ourselves in,” he says. At a time of increasing polarization and cynicism—not to mention that coming election—it’s an especially wondrous connection, he adds…

“That’s the heart of a fandom,” says Tara Block, who fell in love with the “Harry Potter” books after graduating college. “You care a lot.”

— Rachel Feintzeig, from “What Superfans Know That the Rest of Us Should Learn.” (wsj.com, August 19, 2024)


Photo: Anna-m. w., London, England. People enjoying concert.

Saturday Morning

I love going on walks by myself. No pressure to keep up conversation. And there is something about movement that helps me think. To charge an idea with the body’s inertia. To carry a feeling through the distance and watch it grow.

—  Ocean Vuong, The Weight of Our Living: On Hope, Fire Escapes, and Visible Desperation (therumpus.net, August 24, 2014)


Photo: Daybreak. 5:49 a.m., April 30, 2022. 41° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning here.

That’s how this machine works

There’s how I don’t answer the phone, and how I sometimes like to lie down on the floor in the kitchen and pretend I’m not home when people knock. There’s daytime silent when I stare, and a nighttime silent when I do things. There’s shower silent and bath silent and […] car silent and then there’s the silence that comes back, a million times bigger than me, sneaks into my bones and wails and wails and wails until I can’t be quiet anymore. That’s how this machine works.

Ada Limón, excerpt from “The Quiet Machine”, in Bright Dead Things: Poems 


Notes: Portrait by Lucas Marquardt @ About Ada. Passage via antigonick

Sanctuaries…


via Modern Elegance

T.G.I.F.


Via Your Eyes Blaze Out