Included Below: Connections / Storage Space / Small Axe / So Close / Stories We Don’t Tell Book. Click HERE for further information about this newsletter. To those from before and those who are new-
I. WELCOME
Connections.
The other day I realized that the only consistently meaningful in-person conversations of the last couple of months have been in the grocery store. I live alone and adhering to the lockdown rules. Let me be clear and say that I am very privileged and lucky that I have a roof over my head that is safe and a job that is remote. I am also generally fine on my own and can entertain myself.
However, I must say, this seeing no one is kinda getting me down. After cutting out even outdoor socially distanced walks with friends, I’ve been left to Zoom calls and message threads. Again, this is all great and enables me the ability to stay in touch with friends and family.
But damn, if there isn’t something about just talking with another person in real life. I go grocery shopping once a week early in the morning when the store is not busy. The same people are always working. One morning, the person at the front door dispensing hand sanitizer complimented my coat. I almost recoiled because I had forgotten how to properly interact with another person. As the weeks went by, I saw the same people working there, and slowly over time we would have short conversations of a few minutes. Not the most meaningful, but to me, it meant the world. Just to share pleasantries with another human being, to imagine them smiling beneath their mask.
For me, there has been a kind of settling. A settling of routine, of work, of communication. I’m just trying to take things a day at a time and lately, I only have a limited amount of daily energy. This means I have failed to maintain some friendships. This makes me sad, but I hope these friends are not gone, merely on pause. I hope they can resemble the few old friendships I have scattered around the world and for years only talked to every few months. Sure, there is time between our conversations, but we seem to pick up right where we left off. I hope that people are easy on each other as we emerge out of this, treating it not so much as lost time, more as a hibernation.
It’s looking like things are going to be like this for a while, but at least I have my friends at the grocery store. And for that, I am eternally grateful. For the record, in my humble opinion, the people that work at these stores should be included in the first round of vaccinations and be paid a lot more money. They might not be on the frontlines in a hospital, but they are keeping us going.
Understandably, much of the energy directed toward the problems of pandemic social life has been spent on keeping people tied to their families and closest friends. These other relationships have withered largely unremarked on after the places that hosted them closed. The pandemic has evaporated entire categories of friendship, and by doing so, depleted the joys that make up a human life—and buoy human health. But that does present an opportunity. In the coming months, as we begin to add people back into our lives, we’ll now know what it’s like to be without them. — Amanda Mull, The Atlantic, The Pandemic is Resetting Casual Friendships.
Q - How have you been staying connected with people?
II. TALES FROM THE DREAM ROOM
Each month welcomes an exclusive story from a parallel world.
The Dream Room is a place that where everything is interconnected. The sights and sounds and people that inhabit this world feel familiar. The tales pulled from the Dream Room are sometimes true and sometimes fiction, they may scare you or make you laugh. The Dream Room is a place not to be taken lightly and if you’re ready to enter, read the excerpt below and click on the link for the full story.
STORAGE SPACE: About an hour later, I’m still staring at the monitor that shows the storage unit. It’s been quiet since the men left, no other customers. Curiosity gets the better of me. I sign to my brother to stay put again. I make my way to the storage unit at the back. As I get closer, the space around me seems to get quieter. To the camera, I sign to my brother that everything is okay. I put my ear to the door of the storage unit, nothing. I put the key into the lock and pull the door open, cutting through the silence. When the door is open, I don’t move, let the silence settle again. The unit is completely dark, too dark. I can’t see anything, but I can feel something. A presence. A low guttural growl is heard from deep in the unit. I back away. Something is inside.
At that moment, the overhead light goes out. I take a step backwards. Another growl followed by something snapping its jaws together. I turn and run. As I run through the maze, the lights cut out one-by-one in my wake. As I pass by cameras, I motion to my brother to open the gate and when he sees me, hits the button to close it and waits for me on the other side out on the street. To this day, I don’t know if something was chasing me or it was just my imagination.
Read the whole story at this link.
Q - I love scary, ghost, weird, and strange stories. Have any you’d care to share with me?
III. PAUL’S PICKS.
A recommendation of something watched, read, or listened to.
SMALL AXE: There’s a moment in Steve McQueen’s first movie, Hunger, that sticks with me until today. The movie is about Irish republican Bobby Sands leading the inmates of a Northern Irish prison in a hunger strike. After the famous 17:10 minute-long one take dialogue scene, it cuts to the cell hallway where a janitor is mopping up the floor. He starts in the distance and it holds until he works his way to the camera. I didn’t even recall this shot the first time I saw this movie. It was only on repeat viewing that I realized how long it’s held. Weird thing to be inspired by, I know. Of course, it wasn’t just the mopping, to me, it was a bold move by the director. The previous 17:10 dialogue scene was a lot to process, and by including the long mopping shot, the filmmaker, instead of just cutting to the next scene, gave us time to sit in the emotion.
I bring this up because the same director recently released a series of five films called Small Axe, and I feel these kinds of moments - allowing the audience to sit with the characters, to feel their emotions - are all throughout. The Small Axe series is based on the real-life experiences of London's West Indian community, from the joys of a house party to the many abuses of the police. I feel like this is a monumental achievement and really, I don’t even know how to classify them, which is part of the fun. They are connected by community and definitely fit together, but it is not a television show. They are stand alone films, but usually clock in at about 60 minutes. I feel like it doesn’t matter, as they include stories and characters that I hope to see more of - on television and in movies.
For me, the most powerful ones bookended the series - Mangrove and Education. Mangrove is about Frank Crichlow and the Mangrove Nine who clashed with London Police in the 1970s. The trial in the film was highly significant in being the first judicial acknowledgement of racial prejudice in the Metropolitan Police, and inspired other civil rights activists seeking to take on the legal establishment. Shaun Parkes, who played Frank, said he found the experience of filming so intense that he would frequently collapse into tears at the end of each working day.
Education is about 12-year-old Kingsley who discovers he’s being sent to a school for those with ‘special needs.’ Distracted by working two jobs, his parents are unaware of the unofficial segregation policy at play, preventing many Black children from receiving the education they deserve, until a group of West Indian women take matters into their own hands. I don’t want to spoil anything about this one, but there was a moment of such profound relief that he brought me to tears.
Starting the series in 1968 was about showing people establishing themselves in a real way to influence the mainstream, and that’s what West Indian people did, changed the landscape forever politically and socially and culturally. All the struggles and strife. I wanted my mother to turn on the TV and see these images, see these stories, and have easy accessibility to these narratives. The ethos of Small Axe is generosity. — Steve McQueen, Director of Small Axe.
Q - What is something you’ve watched that has inspired you?
IV. FROM THE ARCHIVES.
An old story brought to you in a new way.
SO CLOSE TO NEVER HAPPENING (October 20, 2019): I’ve been a part of producing Stories We Don’t Tell for over five years. That’s a lot of stories and a lot of people telling those stories. In an effort to share some of the incredible tales from our event, we decided to publish an anthology. The process of putting the book together was quite an experience because it gave us the opportunity to re-visit old stories, re-connect with performers, and have a finished product that really represented what we do. To mark the launch of the book, we put together a whacky and fun event as a thank you to the participants and to introduce it to the world. This post was part of some of my closing remarks.
The event has led to one of the longest and most important collaborations of my life. When we got the proof of the book in the mail, I felt the power of all the stories hit me at once. Holding the book in my hands, it was the first time that I let myself feel the accomplishment. For me, I think about how close it came to never happening. Everything: the book, the event, the people. I tried to imagine what my life would be like without Stories We Don’t Tell. Without Stefan and Brianne and all the people I’ve met. All the stories we’ve shared together. I tried to image, and I couldn’t see anything. Just a blank void. And I just feel lucky, how lucky I am, because it all came so close to never happening.
Read the whole story at this link.
Q - What are some collaborations that are important to you?
V. WATCH, LISTEN, READ, OR DO.
Something to take with you.
Since we’re talking about community and connections and I mentioned it above, here’s all the information to get your very own copy of the Stories We Don’t Tell book.
In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, Stories We Don’t Tell is a live storytelling event held in living rooms across Toronto. For five years, hosts have warmly welcomed us and our audiences into their home where a lineup of performers share personal stories about their lives. Some stories are sad, or a little weird, or intimate, and others funny. Of course, we are on hiatus for the foreseeable future, but this book provides the opportunity to read up on the history of the event.
This anthology includes 61 stories that were all told in front of a live audience at one of our shows. The authors of these stories have generously contributed these pieces of their lives to be included in this book. Each story created a memorable moment in front of a roomful of people. Moving through this anthology is an experience where these many moments complement and reflect each other, contradict and draw parallels, have profound wisdom and absurdity. Welcome to the Stories We Don’t Tell.
Tons of information about the book and where to buy it can be found at this link.
Q - If you do read the book, I’d be interested to hear what stories resonated with you.
You’ve probably noticed that I’ve included a question at the end of each section. No, this isn’t required homework. However, if you are compelled to write to me with your thoughts, I would love to hear from you. Who knows, I might even share some of the answers in future newsletters (anonymously, of course). Email me here: jpd@pauldore.com.
January 2021 Edition: Bookstore Adventures / Stories We Don’t Tell / Spontaneous Emotional Combustion / Dolly Parton / Treadmills / Walking Maps.