Here, Have A Flower
Some bouquets for you
Have you ever seen that meme about New England having 12 seasons? If not, feast your eyes upon it.
I’d say we’re in the Spring of Deception right now, but since the weather can’t decide what it’s going to do with itself, I wanted to give you some flowers.
I’m doing actual adult things I’ve been avoiding which means I have less time for Substack writing.1 In return, here are some bouquets I’ve been enjoying despite the weather not being very Spring-like.
January Bouquet
My brother got me these flowers back in January when I was recovering from losing a knife fight with a surgeon. (aka I had surgery.) They were very pretty and didn’t make me sneeze! Flowers are sad when you’re allergic to pollen.
Valentine’s Day Flowers
I am not a Valentine’s Day girlie. Never have been, never will be. But when I happened to be in Trader Joe’s on Valentine’s Day and saw these roses, I thought, why yes, I am worth it. In the immortal words of Miley Cyrus, I can buy myself flowers.
Just Because Flowers
I walked into CVS last week and saw this bouquet sitting there, waiting to be claimed. CVS is like an animal shelter for me: every time I walk in and see plants, I feel a deep, soul urging need to rescue them. No plant should have to live its life in a CVS.
This tree I am obsessed with
Not technically a bouquet, but this tree lives next to the synagogue near me and oh boy do I love her. She is just starting to bloom and look at her!!!
LOOK AT HER.
Oh, you were thinking there was no book related content in this newsletter about flowers? Oh ye of little faith.
Flowers automatically make me think of Les Fleurs du Mal (The Flowers of Evil) by Charles Baudelaire. The French title sounds much more dramatic than its English translation, so you’ll have to forgive me as I will only refer to it by its French name.
Les Fleurs du Mal was a landmark poetry publication when it came out in 1857. Some of the poems were originally censored for being immoral (aka too sexual) and there’s a lot of symbolism within the text. If you’re a French student, you either have read or will read some of these poems. I did units on it in high school and college, and I memorized ‘Hymne à la Beauté’ for class.2
Listen, Baudelaire may have been a phenomenal poet, but he was also a nutcase. He tried to induce synesthesia in himself by consuming a whole lot of opium, and - spoiler alert - it did not work because that’s not how synesthesia works.3
But even funnier to me was his invention of a poetic concept called spleen. Yes, the English word for that little organ in your upper left abdomen that’s responsible for generating new white blood cells. Baudelaire needed a word for this intense depressive sensation he was describing, and French wouldn’t cut it. Enter: du spleen.
If you’ve forgotten your biology, the spleen also filters blood, and you can live without it. White blood cells are also manufactured in bone marrow, which is another example of the body’s fail safe mechanisms. So anyways, Baudelaire decided that this was the absolutely perfect word to use to describe his deep poetic concept of bone wearying sadness and depression.
There are - and I cannot stress this enough - so. many. poems. about spleen in this book. So many of them. The first section is entirely dedicated to spleen. There are, at minimum, four poems titled ‘Spleen.’ And I cannot take them seriously because while I am supposed to be interpreting them as deep and dark and moody as Baudelaire intended, full of dolor and distress, I cannot because all I’m imagining is this happy little go lucky spleen, because the word ‘spleen’ is green in my mind, because unlike Baudelaire, I actually have synesthesia.
Apocryphally, my French teachers thought Baudelaire had no idea what the word actually meant when he chose it. This tracks! The French, as I’ve previously stated, do not speak English. So really, Baudelaire gave us franglais speakers a gift: we get a little inside joke at a master poet’s expense because he didn’t know what exactly he was doing when he picked the word to describe his Very Intense Poetry Concept™️.
The French are very good at looking cool while doing basically everything, but the next time you need to feel superior and have a little giggle at their expense, think of some intense French literature scholars talking about du spleen in all seriousness.
No New Books™️ Challenge
No New Books have been acquired! But some special editions I ordered a while ago came in and now I feel flush in fancy books. I shall be good and resist all temptation until later this month. Why’s that, you say? Well, April 26th is the feast day of our Patron Saint, Independent Bookstore Day. Many sales will be had, and some damage will be done. Book lovers everywhere will rejoice.
Longest streak: 38 days (January 1st - February 6th)
Last streak: 28 days (March 5th - April 1st)
Current streak: 14 days (April 2nd - Present)
Mug Moment of the Week
We are starting to enter ‘mugs that need to be videoed to be appreciated’ territory. Which is kind of inconvenient when they are holding boiling water in them.
Remember the Starbucks Destination mugs? Well Dunkin’ Donuts decided it needed in on this market. Which I otherwise ignored other than this one Massachusetts mug. I lived in/around Boston for about 10 years during college and afterwards, I was born in MA, and Dunkin’ Donuts is native to Massachusetts. That Casey Affleck SNL skit about Dunkin’ Donuts is basically a documentary. Ipso facto, I needed this mug.
This mug, in complementary Dunkin’ Donuts brand colors, needed mood lighting to fully capture its essence. I don’t even drink coffee, but by default of being a New Englander Dunkin’ Donuts has my allegiance. The most Boston thing I have ever seen was during the manhunt after the 2013 Marathon Bombings. Everyone was ordered to stay inside and not leave. Except: a few Dunkin’ Donuts that were allowed to remain open to serve the police and first responders. This is not an exaggeration. I am literally not joking about this. Other top moments include: a security guy at Gilette stadium wearing a short sleeve shirt at a Pats game in -20 degree weather, and a firetruck driving into oncoming traffic outside Boston City Hall. Dunkin, you will always have a special place in my heart, even though I will never drink your coffee. The Coolattas were good though, back in the day.
Chaos may continue to reign during the next few weeks as I try to get caught up on life, so who knows if I’ll have a longer book post next week. Only time will tell! Until then, have a lovely mug filled week.
One day I will talk about Men Have Called Her Crazy. But today is not that day.
Which is one of my favorite French poems, but not my absolute favorite. That honor goes to ‘Chant du Ciel’ by Robert Desnos.
I know because I have it: grapheme—> color. I should write about it some day.
laughed out loud at the weather bc being a New Englander for my first 22 years….yes. I know this. FEEL this. even PA is being hit with fake spring now 😭