The Mildew Cometh... SU&SD Newsletter #46

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.

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