Well, I’ve figured out why I kept thinking something felt off about October this year—I forgot to say “rabbit rabbit” first thing! As a result: roof leak, no decorated mantel, a cold that lingered for weeks, leaves that took forever to change color, noticeably lower-than-normal levels of seasonal cheer. Man. MY BAD.1 I corrected that mistake this month, you’ll be glad to know, and November is off to a cozy start in my world—hopefully the same is true for you.
Read this week
The timing of Frankenstein being chosen for The Stacks book club was simply perfect, as I hadn’t read this Mary Shelley classic since high school or college, and I was hoping to revisit it before seeing the new film adaptation. What I remembered from my first reading was still true this time—I felt so bad for that dang monster! Dude just wants to be accepted, to have his needs met, to know friendship, yet when he pursues those desires with curiosity and gentleness, he is met with horror and violence. And Victor! Could have made everything better had he just shown a modicum of compassion and decency, but no. I don’t know about y’all, but I am Team Monster forever.2
It felt correct to keep the dark energy going to close out October, so after Frankenstein I picked up a novella in translation about a creepy house: Woodworm by Layla Martínez (translated by Sophie Hughes and Annie McDermott). This story is told from the perspectives of a young woman and her grandmother in alternating chapters, and I liked the slightly disorienting feeling of sometimes forgetting for a moment who was speaking. It’s all about Something That Has Happened in the present between the young woman and a neighborhood boy who disappeared while she was babysitting him, but along the way we also get a lot of family history and the background of the house. The mood is hazy and unsettling and very, very sinister, like Samanta Schweblin meets Edgar Allan Poe.
The house drew its walls and ceilings around us, pinning us down, either protecting us or smothering us or maybe both, because in here you can’t tell the difference. (13)
November 1st fell on a Saturday this year, and thank goddess, because it meant I got to start the month on my strollway bench, sipping my farmer’s market coffee and devouring an entire poetry collection in one go.
I don’t read a ton of poetry; I’m not always sure how to choose things I will like, and while I often hear that it’s better to “dip in and out” of a poetry collection, to savor a poem or two at a time, I’m more of a read-straight-through kind of person who gets way too impatient to mete them out slowly. Even though my brain knows there’s no wrong way to enjoy this kind of writing, I often wonder if I’m doing it wrong.
All that to say, wrong or not, I simply inhaled You Better Be Lightning by Andrea Gibson, which made me giggle and made me weep. I heard Gibson interviewed on Nerdette podcast back in 2021 when this collection was first released and I’d been meaning to read it ever since.
Their passing earlier this year spurred me to finally get a copy, as did the news of their upcoming documentary, Come See Me in the Good Light. And goddamn, what a voice. I’ve found a new favorite. Something about the way they evoke broadly relatable feelings of being human through descriptions of mundane particulars reminded me a bit of Mary Oliver, whom I also adore, and their ability to play with words is both lighthearted and masterful. I wrote down so many lines to remember, but this trio in particular has burrowed into my imagination and won’t be leaving any time soon:
Regret is a time machine to the past. Worry is a time machine to the future. Gratitude is a time machine to the present.
Even if you don’t consider yourself a poetry person, I highly recommend giving these poems a try, either in print or through recordings of Andrea performing them.
Last but not least this week, some nonfiction (it’s been a minute!) that felt like it was written for me specifically—Are You Mad at Me? by Meg Josephson. The subtitle is “How to Stop Focusing on What Others Think and Start Living For You,” and I think I tapped the “borrow” button on Libby before my eyes even got to the end of it, because YES, inject this knowledge into my veins, please, yesterday.
Fellow people-pleasers, I regret to inform you that this book isn’t an instant cure for what ails us, but it does provide information, exercises, and things to think about that can help shift our mindset and behaviors over time. There’s a lot here about fawning, a fourth trauma/conflict response that isn’t as widely discussed as its siblings fight, flight, and freeze. Josephson also discusses the NICER technique (notice, invite, curiosity, embrace, return) in multiple contexts, and outlines a lot of ways to process emotional discomfort and center awareness in the body. I appreciated her perspective, which was grounded in a blend of medical studies and scientific findings, Buddhism, mindfulness, and cognitive therapy.3 I read this one digitally, but once it’s out in paperback, I will likely buy a copy to keep on my shelf and refer back to.
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Seen and heard this week
We caught the new Guillermo del Toro Frankenstein (2025) in theaters last weekend with some friends and I enjoyed it. There are definitely some plot details and character choices that stray from the book, but the vibes are cold and lonely and sinister and the visuals are stunning and it all felt pretty well in line with Mary Shelley’s original. The weather happened to be grey and drizzly the night we saw it, too, which was just perfect. It’ll be streaming on Netflix in just a few days—get thee to thine couch!
On Friday morning Jordan said “I got you something,” and when I asked what it was, he told me that Waxahatchee had released a new album! What?? My friends, Katie Crutchfield and her twin sister Allison indeed hit us with a surprise drop called Snocaps, and it’s good!
I’m running hot on empty Firing off some willful bottomline Gave it everything I had, I am hazmat I am radioactive Caustic car wreck, off the rails And rude and ruining your life
The vibes are folksy rock, up-tempo but a little subdued, with a bit of distortion and all the excellent vocal harmonies you’d hope for from a couple of musically talented siblings. It reminds me of early Waxahatchee, which is top of mind because I was also just listening to Ivy Tripp (2015) the other day and remembering how much I liked it. Here’s the music video for “Coast,” the first track on the album:
Haiku round-up
Haiku is a poetic form that originated in Japan, containing seventeen syllables in a five-seven-five pattern. At the beginning of 2024, I started writing one every day, and while traditional examples include thematic reference to the seasons, mine tend to be a bit more all over the place. Here are this week’s efforts—enjoy!
Monday, October 27
I don’t need answers just snacks and honking laughter, our friendship the prize
Tuesday, October 28
Careful coats of black blotting out each fingernail Trappings of a witch
Wednesday, October 29
Mood light, music loud, many hands make for quick work— a shared space that shines
Thursday, October 30
I am a squirrel, gathering necessities for the coming cold
Friday, October 31
“I’m rich in Skittles!” Show me, once, twice, seven times your growing stockpile
Saturday, November 1
Through the veil, advice: to tear off the caution tape, let everything in
Sunday, November 2
The soft, sleepy weight of warm kitten, little spoon sharing my cocoon
Until next time
Sometimes when I’m writing down fun seasonal experiences I want to have, I wonder if it’s overkill, if I’m micromanaging my own existence, if I should just let life flow more naturally and follow my whims in the moment instead of checking off merriment like a chore. But then other times the calendar turns over to October 30th, I glance at my autumn list, and I realize that I haven’t made any pumpkin chocolate chip cookies yet. So I hurry to the grocery store for ingredients so I can spend a few hours the next day in my favorite mustard yellow apron, mixing dough and carefully spacing globs of it onto baking sheets, dancing around the kitchen to a soundtrack of songs about vampires on an afternoon that ended up being one of the most fulfilling of the month. Would I have forgotten all about the joy of this little ritual without my list? Would I have shown up to Halloween sans the culinary offering I pride myself on being known for? Maybe?! I’m jarred by the thought.
I guess what I’m saying is: sometimes the activities and traditions we love most don’t happen by themselves. Days get busy, moods droop, routines sink into ruts. If crossing something off a list is what gets you to show up for your own happiness and contentment, then hell yeah, make that list. It’s okay to need a reminder.
See you next Monday, and until then, just go for it.
♥︎ Emily
P.S. If you especially enjoyed this week’s post and would like to send a one-time treat:
This is said in jest, of course. Writing in my journal over the weekend about all the month’s memorable moments, I realized that maybe some of its tinge of disappointment might have been a simple error of perception, a classic example of physical illness clouding the understanding. A lot of good shit happened in October is what I’m saying, and I’m grateful for it.
And Team Mary Shelley, because writing a classic like this at age NINETEEN, are you serious?
LOVED "Are You Mad at Me?" I also want my own copy so I can mark it up and re-read!
I love your Monday musings as always!! Thank you for sharing it all with us. "Gratitude is a time machine to the present." Thank you, Andrea! Thank you, Emily!