Slow Sharing 🐌
Songs to get depressed on, Summer Ins and Outs, and why I've been sharing less on social media
Hello, ITER’ fam!
I’m known to write in bursts, so here’s my latest post. I hope I’ll be able to keep it up. It’s fun to write when I write about things I love.
As usual, if you like what I write, please subscribe!
And if you think your long-distance bff who lives in London would like this, please send it to them!
Now, back to our main programming!
I went to London last May.
Not London, Ontario. London, United Kingdom. London with the people with a British accent. THAT London.
It was a short trip—and not necessarily the trip I wanted. A lot had happened, and nothing was going according to plan, but I still decided to go. I hadn’t been to Europe in 17 years, and the pandemic had prevented me from going to Ireland in 2020, so on May 9, I embarked on a plane and crossed the ocean to arrive at Heathrow Airport finally. And when my feet finally got on British soil, something in me flipped.
I shared a lot about my trip to London. Everything mesmerized me, and I settled naturally into the city’s everyday rhythm. It was easy to become a Londoner for five days, to talk with Londoners, and to make friends. It became so easy to live while there that the thought of moving there made its way to my mind quickly. And it still has not left.
While in London, I connected deeply with friends of mine who were also travelling in the city at the same time. They were sweet, loving, and encouraging. We started dreaming together of a life abroad, which seemed realistic for once. We are all adults in our mid/late thirties with some money and no other responsibilities than ourselves. So why not move?
This urge to move—far from sudden, I might add; I’ve wanted to move for a while—made me reconsider how I was sharing parts of myself online. I felt suddenly too exposed, an open book for everyone to see. I probably still am. I write this newsletter, for God’s sake! But I now feel like saving some parts of me is essential for my own health and story.
Hence, posting less. Slow Sharing. My stories have become minimal, and my need to share what’s going on has dwindled to dramatic levels of “I do not give a fuck no more.” In my latest piece, I wrote about how everything felt like an illusion. Everything feels raw on my skin, or au contraire; I’ve never felt this empty, but I also appreciate the feeling of having a little garden full of secrets I don’t want anyone to see. I want to invite people to discover the multitudes I contain, the dark little corners as much as the ones bathed in sunlight.
On Saturday evening, I was at a house party for a friend leaving Montréal for Seattle. As the night went on, I sat on the floor, drunk, joined by my close friends. We shared stories about everything: travel, what we were looking forward to this summer, hardcore punk shows, Hozier — always and again— trips to Ireland, academia, journalism, jobs, our feelings…
For a moment, everything felt real and right. Sharing is always a matter of the community, an experience of intimacy and vulnerability in real time. This is how we build friendships and relationships. Sharing less might be about sharing more, but sharing more intentionally—and I like this. We are sharing in person, sharing with those who matter.
This is what I aspire to do for the rest of the year.
Summer 2024 in and outs
They are back, y’all! I saw someone making a Summer in-and-out list and thought it’d be nice to make my own. Between us, I like those lists. They’re fun to make, and they are silly. So please forgive me while I make a list or two between two crying sesh.
Anyway, with the current state of dating—not that I know anything about it—it really feels like men are out this summer. Not that I approve of it, but you know… I won’t be against it. So my outs are very… men oriented.
Unless we’re talking about Paul Mescal, Noah Kahan, or Hozier, then I’m all in for them—the three of them at the same time, even.
The Summer of Emo Country
Ending this newsletter by talking about my new favourite genre of music: emo country. I’ve always been a big fan of country music, not bro-country. I don’t find it particularly cool when people say, “I like music, just not country.” Country music is so much more than what people can imagine. It’s heavy with sad lyrics and people crying over their memories and the love they long lost.
It’s also more and more about men dealing with mental health issues, with long-lost loves and other hardships, and I’m enjoying this. I enjoy listening to a man saying his fight with his partner is eating him alive — Zach Bryan’s Something in the Orange. Finally, men speak up in a genre that’s supposedly manly and about guns, partying, and drinking.
I might be in a mood currently, but Emo Country feels appropriate for the summer. It’s a fresh breeze on a road trip to the chalet/cottage. It’s long nights with friends on your front porch. It feels light yet heavy, and I love it. And I did a playlist.
It is heavily centred around Zach Bryan—basically the emo country king—and is a good introduction to a genre that deserves to be known more.
And maybe y’all can enjoy the fresh breeze on your face while being an emotional passenger princess on a road trip.
I hope I wasn’t too boring. Summer’s starting soon, and I cannot wait to sit in a park and drink with friends.
Until then,
À la prochaine,
xo
I feel like Emo Country and the term "Alt-Country" have a lot of overlap. I'd say artists like Jason Molina and Neko Case would fit quite well alongside the material on your playlist.