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The Mildew Cometh... SU&SD Newsletter #46
🕑 Added 2022-06-22 17:49:42 +0000 UTC
Quinns: Homes! They’re like friends that you can live inside.
This newsletter has always been a way for you to venture behind the scenes at Shut Up & Sit Down. Now that the pandemic has reduced “the scenes” to us being “at home”, we’ve decided that in this newsletter we’re all going to share some of the fun details that have made our lockdowns interesting.
I love my home. I’m extremely lucky to be here. But have you seen the movie Blade, with Wesley Snipes? To imagine my home life, imagine something like the plot of that movie, but instead of vampires I fight mildew.
Also, instead of being half-mildew, half-man, I am (for now) all man.
Above you can see one of my rental accommodation’s many exciting orifices, which collectively expel moldy air with the vigor of an air conditioning unit.
This is because while my flat is great, the tower block that contains it lets in so much rainwater that occasionally, the carpet in the middle of my living room will get wet. And let me tell you- it’s a fascinating feeling, being thrilled with a flat, but distressed at the quality of the superstructure holding it in the air. It’s like being in love with a baby kangaroo that’s tucked up nice and safe in its marsupial pouch, but the pouch is leaking because mum lives in a haunted swamp.
But mold can be scrubbed away! Windows can be opened. The only real problem is that no matter how many damp traps I deploy into the warzone that is my bedroom cupboard, if I don’t wear an item of clothing for about a month, mildew gets into it.
In other words, if there’s a special occasion where I have to put on a nice shirt, I am guaranteed to show up smelling like I came straight from my job hauling crates at a smuggler’s grotto.
Joke’s on you, universe! Since the pandemic, I no longer have any need to put on a nice shirt. Check mate.
Tom: Mildew, quite clearly, is very boring. You know what isn’t boring? Paint. And more specifically, the curious manners in which it dries.
Before we get there, though - a little bit of important background. This house that I’m in, right now, we didn’t put any deposit down on. We thought that this would be great, assuming that it would mean we didn’t have to worry so much about things going funky and breaking over the course of our tenancy because… How are they going to charge us for it if we’ve not paid a deposit? How are they going to enforce that we treat the house right - save for the assumption that we’re reasonable, nice people? Turns out, they enforce good housekeeping through a sprinkling of omnipresent dread.
The question of how and how much the landlords might charge us for the tiny little faults with the house (mouldy curtains, an unstable doorhandle, all the blood) has created more of a drive to clean and repair this creaky old ruin of a house than anything else possibly could. Nothing has exemplified this more than the wall I am looking at right now whilst writing this paragraph - a wall pockmarked with blu-tack stains.
To solve the stains without the landlord realising and charging us, we sent an email to them posing as a prospective up-and-coming landlord. ‘We were viewing one of your properties and wondered what a good cheap paint is for the walls’, the email read. ‘Could you point us in the right direction?’. Soon, a follow-up email returned to us and we had our paint (Johnstone's Wall & Ceiling Paint Matt 10L - Magnolia, if you’re wondering). With paint purchased, we began working on the walls, covering the stains with multiple coats.
But soon, disaster. The shades? They’re slightly different.
Suddenly; paranoia. Did the landlords know all along that we were posing as wannabe parasites, and have coaxed us into a situation where our terrible painting efforts will be met with thunderous bills? Have they got the REAL paint stashed away in their Ivory Tower? And if so, what shade of Ivory did they use, perchance? I’m at a loss. Guess we’re painting the whole house head-to-toe in ‘Johnstone’s Wall and Ceiling Paint Matt 10L - Magnolia’. More on the situation as it dries.
Matt: HOW DEEP DOES THIS MAGNOLI-HOLE GO?
I haven’t actually had a chance to be boring, having squodged something or other into every moment of my life in a manner which has clearly been BROADLY UNHELPFUL. For that reason I’m about to fully venture into the boring zone - taking most of this week as holiday with the hope of being strict with myself about the importance of doing NOTHING for a couple of days. Maybe I’ll read a book? I think I’ve possibly forgotten how to do that. It’s gonna be tough to not scratch the itch to create and solve complex technical problems or sit and mindlessly play video games for hours on end, but after three months of Incredible Anxious Energy? Something must be done! If I don’t return next month with info about at least ONE book I’ve read, I’m officially A Bad Man.
Having said that, the secret reality is that lockdown hasn’t made my life boring, as - Bruce Banner style - I’m boring *all of the time*. The most exciting thing in my life right now is the brand new bread bin I bought online, which I’m joyfully filling with cakes and bread.
Ava: Honestly, I’ve spent the last week waxing lyrical about the joys of having a decent large fan in my bedroom, boring is the new black. The second half of corona-throttled life has definitely brought about a level of nesting instinct I’ve never seen before. I’ve framed a lot of things, a lot. My walls are covered in tarot cards, political cross stitch and illustrations attempting to bridge the gaps between the two. Not to mention finding increasingly elaborate storage/display solutions for my excessive oversized earring collection.
Matt: Before I now fade into the ether for a week, I’d just like to thank all of you who tuned into our Twitch streams this month - thanks to your help, all of the $2,200 we made on the platform this month will be going straight to two charities: in the UK we’re supporting the Stephen Lawrence Trust, and in the US we’ll be donating to the TransWomen of Color Collective.
What are we reading? 📙
Quinns: The return of Black Lives Matter to this month’s headlines has been a reminder to me that there’s so much more for me to learn. This month I’ve been reading Natives by Akala. I’d recommend it to anybody, but most specifically to people in England.
In recent years it’s been increasingly obvious that England finds it easier to import American discussions and ideas about racism because that’s less shameful and challenging than examining our own past, our own problems, and our own systems that oppress black Britains. Natives really spoke to me, not just because it’s beautifully written, but because the author grew up so close to where I did and yet (obviously) experienced an upbringing so different to mine. The book’s helped me to recontextualise my own childhood and privilege.
So that’s the book for when I want to confront reality head on. When I want escapism, I’ve been reading a fantasy bestseller called The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. It’s just enchanting. I can be incredibly picky when it comes to fantasy, but this novel just gets everything right. I’ve not been so hooked on a fantasy epic since The Dandelion Dynasty, and before that it was Game of Thrones.
Ava: The first half of lockdown saw me hammering through book after book, but the latter half has been much slower for me. That said, I’m enjoying really taking my time with Rachel Pollack’s 78 Degrees of Wisdom, which is a tarot guide that I bounced off when I was first getting into the subject, but now I’ve spent a year or more getting to know the cards, feels like getting to look at old friends in new light. It’s definitely not what I’d recommend for a starter to the thought-craft that is tarot, but it’s delightful company.
I did also neck Gods of Jade and Shadow by Sylvia Moreno-Garcia in a few sittings (or rather, several long baths) and it’s striking to see a different take on the ‘old mythologies walking among us’. Exploring 1920s Mexico with an ancient god is an unnerving experience.
What are we watching? 📺
Ava: I still haven’t decided how I actually feel about The Politician, but I drank them up pretty whole-heartedly, so there’s got to be something going on there. It’s been a strange jump from season one to two though. The first series was quite a sharp psychological study of someone possibly entirely awful, while the second one has made that whole narrative just feel like a prologue for something more plot-led, but with some strange undercurrents. I think it might be leaning into a motif of someone having huge life affirming epiphanies that only ever teach them to be more awful. It’s certainly the oddest anti-hero structure I’ve ever seen. In similar but entirely different viewing, if you’re up-to-date with UK politics, it feels incredibly strange to watch The Uncivil War in the present moment. It’s a poetically licensed narrative of the Brexit referendum that has drank quite a lot of Dominic Cummings’ Kool-Aid. Watching it now has a curious mix of nostalgia and terror. Not sure I’d recommend, but it’s certainly an experience.
What are we music! 🎵
Tom: Have you listened to SAULT? I swear they’re music’s best-kept secret right now. I think I’ve mentioned their debut record ‘5’ in the newsletter at some point - and I still think that it’s their highest high to date, but their newest effort, Untitled (Black Is), is building on every single one of their strengths. I had the pleasure of listening to this before it came out on a Radio 6 stream (yes, I know) and something about hearing this specific music pour out my speakers at this specific moment was as magical as it was melancholy. In more whimsical directions, I’ve been in an absolute phase with the latest release from Montreal’s Pottery - a band that’s taking the best bits of Devo, Talking Heads and The Cowbell - infusing it with the anarchic spirit of Warmduscher (or other Fat White Family-related products) in a way that’s energising as all heck. It’s insatiably danceable and deliciously camp.
What are we video games! 🎮
Ava: The last month or so has seen me revisiting some old game-homes, thanks to new arrivals on the Nintendo Switch. XCOM 2 with all extras thrown in is still a pretty wonderful thing, even if the amount of extra narrative bits makes the whole thing whirl narratively a bit. I also went back to Paradise City, firing up Burnout’s giant advert for that one Guns & Roses track. Gosh is it lovely to just bump around that ridiculous space again. But also, gosh, I should really start getting up to speed with more up-to-date offerings. Not that the cosy soft edges of nostalgia aren’t actually very, very helpful in these challenging times.
