Matthew Gallaway

Survival Techniques 2022 (The Year in Review)

This was another year in which the city felt very near (because I live in it, which is a survival technique) and very far (because I stay away from it, which is another survival technique). I did go downtown a handful of times over the course of the year. Mostly I took short-term rental e-bikes (Citibike), which is my 2022 Survival Technique of the Year (TM).

E-bikes should be a survival technique for everyone. They’re easy to ride, they’re relatively fast, but they still feel like bikes (as opposed to motorcycles or scooters). They’re obviously safer and better for the environment than cars. Ranting about cars and the space they take up in the city, while moving (dangerously) and while in storage on public property (aka ‘street parking’) has been another survival technique of 2022. 

Back to e-bikes, the infrastructure for biking (and e-biking) remains terrible in New York City, however. Most bike lanes are painted on the road next to parked cars, and protected lanes are often blocked by whoever feels like parking there and especially police cars. Having biked around the city, it’s clear to me that cops like to troll bikers by parking in bike lanes and generally harassing them. Guess what? I get it. There’s a minority of bikers who are very annoying. They have flashy, expensive gear and they go too fast in bike lanes that are shared with runners and walkers. They scold you a lot. They vote for neoliberal politicians, even now. But this minority should not dictate the behavior of the police or the many, many more obnoxious drivers who think it’s fun to drive within inches of a biker (or worse). I dream about having a mayor who can mobilize her (because it will probably be a woman) administration to radically overhaul city streets, so that e-bikes are a viable means of getting around throughout the year.

Also, can we stop spending money on useless advertising campaigns such as this one? Is there a single driver in 2022 who saw this ad and thought ‘you know, I really do need to slow down’? The solution to speeding drivers is enforcement by way of speed cameras and serious penalties against the increasing number of drivers (including 98 percent of cops and firefighters) who bend or deface license plates to avoid detection by speed cameras. Anyway, cars and their drivers are a major problem in New York City, and they should be heavily regulated. I look forward to complaining about them more in 2023. 

Moving on from cars, Fort Tryon Park continues to be a big survival technique for me. why aren’t we investing more in parks? 

I keep this image on my phone and laugh at it sometimes, which is a survival technique. Which speaking of phones reminds me: another survival technique of 2022 was turning off all notifications (sound and visual) for texts and phone calls, and especially social media apps. I’m not sure I logged onto my FB in 2022, though, which is another survival technique. That and gloating about the demise of IG. I’ll never understand why so many people are like ‘FB is evvvil — I would never! — but oh btw here’s my Insta.’ Ranting about social media is a perennial survival technique. 

Let’s return to the park. Its beauty speaks for itself, n’est-ce pas? 

Last year at this time, I wasn’t able to get to the park because I injured my knee pretty badly, which brings me to another big survival technique of 2022: physical therapy. Thank you, PT, for getting me back into running shape. 

And thank you, Feldenkrais, for making me more aware of how I move. You might be surprised to learn that even if you don’t go downtown all the time like you used to do, you still tend to move around a lot, and there are ways to do it that bring more and less pain to your body. Thank you to my mother for getting me started in Feldenkrais. (Survival technique: listen to your mother — survival technique — sometimes.) 

Running is generally a safe activity in the city, with one caveat: there are a lot of bumpy sidewalks that inevitably lead to comical (to observers) but painful (to participants) face plants when your toe catches on the edge of a raised square of concrete. (This is something else that should be fixed when they #bancars.) Feldenkrais has been a good survival technique during these unfortunate moments because in addition to teaching me how to sit and stand, it has taught me how to fall. 

Moving on to our next category, gardening continued to be another big survival technique for me (and I’m sure it’s safe to say, Stephen) in 2022. As it’s something I regularly write about here, I won’t talk too much about it other than to say that we recently had a visit to our garden from a hawk, who made a meal of a pigeon while the cats looked on in awe through the window. With condolences to the pigeon, this is peak gardening, and I look forward to more of it in 2023.

I’m sorry, I forgot to post some of the ten thousands pictures I recently took in the heather gardens of Fort Tryon Park during the recent polar vortex. 

Parks, gardens, heather: all should be considered survival techniques as we head into 2023 and beyond.

And elm trees.

And cats. I want to make a special mention to Zephyr, who despite having kidney problems turned sixteen this year and has been a critical player in my survival-technique strategy for his entire life. What would we do without cats?

And finally, in addition to Clio being cute — another survival technique for both of us — here’s my final DeathCulture@Sea survival technique (aka ‘song’) of 2022.

Link. 
 
Like every song I’ve ever written, it’s about getting through another year and finding some beauty along the way :)

DeathCulture@Sea (Star-Crossed Lullaby)

One of the nice things (for me) about lockdown was that it gave me more time to engage with -- to listen, to play, to read about -- music. Before lockdown, music had slipped away from me for reasons that I'm sure will be familiar to many, namely I was busy doing other stuff. I was a long way from being fifteen or twenty-five, when I had convinced myself that music was my emotional connection to the world, when I organized my life around learning instruments, playing in a band, writing songs, going to shows, recording, rehearsing, touring, etc. It was misguided in many ways, but it could have been a lot worse. I had fun, I saw a lot of the country, and -- in retrospect -- it was a good (and not good) way to sublimate the extreme anxiety I had around being gay, which as much as I tried to deny it was the organizing force of my life. But once I addressed this anxiety by coming out, I began to change. It took a few years, but I found new responsibilities and interests: a 'real' job/career, a partner, cats, opera, writing, gardening, bad television, this blog. Music took a back seat, not only because I was busy, but also because I wanted to distance myself from what I had been. But three or four years ago, I realized that I missed listening to new music, and that there was no point in punishing myself for what I had been, much less who I had become. I started dipping into the music blogs, where I discovered exactly what I had been craving. I remember when Brooklyn Vegan published their Top Fifty of 2019, after which I fell in love with Weyes Blood/Titanic Rising in ways that reminded me of being a teenager. (Playing it over and over again, mostly, and succumbing to the ease of [a popular corporate music streaming service]). I started going to shows, which was also fun, although I wouldn't want to make a habit of it. (My ears are still ringing from this show, for example.) And then, when lockdown arrived, I decided to use a few of the extra hours I had saved by not going anywhere by pulling my guitars out of my closet and writing some songs. Sometimes it feels a bit pointless or futile (especially when I'm stuck in some layer of technological hell learning the software), but mostly I love doing it. What I've realized in 2022, as lockdown becomes for most a memory and I realize that I, too, will have to reengage with the outside world, is that I enjoy writing and recording songs and videos for the same reason I like doing many other things: it's a way to forget about the more frightening problems of life in the modern world. It's a kind of drug, but one that -- unlike so many other mind-erasing techniques -- has no hangover. I tried to capture all of the above (or none of the above) in this new song, which I hope you'll enjoy (or not enjoy) :) 

Link. 

DeathCulture@Sea

Garden and Entertainment Review 2022

What happened in 2022? In the garden, we planted a new Japanese maple to replace an azalea (RIP). I'm old enough to feel some momentary sorrow planting trees in the garden, knowing that I probably won't be around to see it at the height of its powers, but it's also true that, so long as the tree lives, every year is better than the last. Let's just say this tree had a good year in 2022, and I'm looking forward to seeing how it does in 2023. 

Here's our other Japanese maple, which is probably thirteen or fourteen years old (assuming it was one or two when we bought it from a mail-order nursery in Oregon). It doesn't turn red until December. 

Our statue had a good year in 2022. 

Statues and trees share a few things in common that make them different than people: they look nice in gardens and they tend to grow more beautiful with age. 

Beyond the garden, my favorite record of 2022 was Once Twice Melody, by Beach House. Does everyone listen to Beach House? I feel like they should be bigger than the Beatles, but I don't think that's the case. Their music falls somewhere between synth pop, chill wave, and psychedelic drone rock. Their records are beautifully arranged and produced, the songs tuneful and catchy without being insipid. The music is comfortable and interesting, but not too demanding. I can play Beach House in the background when I'm working on something rote, and I can imagine seeing them at a concert if I ever start going to concerts again. (Maybe.) It's comfortable and interesting music. I love having Beach House songs stuck in my head. 

For books, I already wrote about my favorite book of 2022, My Dead Book, by Nate Lippens. When we look back at literature of the Covid pandemic, My Dead Book should be at the top of the list. Otherwise, I've been reading novels by Doris Grumbach, who recently died. I think my favorite is The Ladies, about a lesbian couple in 19th-century England (it has a very Gentleman Jack vibe, if you saw that show on HBO), but Grumbach's other novels are also very interesting. Her characters tend to lead sad, desperate lives before they are abruptly killed off, which may not sound very entertaining but reflects a reality of life -- especially gay life -- in the twentieth century that I don't believe we as a culture have come to terms with. Doris Grumbach writes in a very clear, erudite manner that recalls other celebrated writers of her era, specifically jerks like John Updike and Philip Roth. As time passes, let's hope their books sink into the sand as the work of Doris Grumbach -- more truthful to more kinds of people -- lives on.

If playing Spelling Bee and Wordle count as a reading books, I spent a lot of time reading this year. Note Clio's reaction to my dumb joke. As usual, I watched some television, but I don't remember any of it, so I have no recommendations beyond a plea to write to Japan and ask them to resurrect Terrace House, which will always be my favorite television show. 

Back to the garden, I wanted to mention another highlight of 2022, which was that our woodland peony flowered for the first time. The flowers were pleasant enough but -- wow -- the seed pods were amazing, and they opened up in the fall, when every garden needs a splash of blood red.  

We planted the seeds, but they take several years to germinate. Be sure to check back in 2028 for updates! 

December Is When Spring Begins in Secret

As usual, December arrived with a lot of dread. Another year gone, the world in disarray, non-stop coverage of the corrupt and pointless World Cup, the knowledge that we have three-four months of snow and cold before actual spring starts (unless we have a warm winter, a perverse but undeniable hope in the global-warming era): these are just a few of the terrible things we must endure in December 2022.  

In the park, most of the plants have entered winter mode, which means a lot of naked tree branches and brown leaves, but as I looked a little closer, I was pleased to find trees already budding. December has a silver lining, perhaps. 

And while this isn't a sign of spring, the absence of leaves gives the beautiful architecture of the elm trees a chance to shine. 

I've been listening to the new Weyes Blood album, which is called And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow. It's a perfect soundtrack for December. I first became obsessed with Weyes Blood three years ago, just as the pandemic was unfolding. Titanic Rising (from 2019) and her previous album (Front Row Seat to Earth, which might be my favorite) were on constant repeat in 2020. Her songs are always sad, but are too beautiful and strange to feel hopeless. As many reviewers have pointed out, she often seems like the sonic and spiritual descendant of Karen Carpenter. I remember getting a notification from [the corporate music streaming service to which I subscribe] saying that I was one of the most avid listeners of Weyes Blood. I felt a little embarrassed about it, like I was stalking her. This year, Weyes Blood was third on my most-listened-to list, after Beach House (who I can now feel embarrassed about stalking) and Cemeteries (who isn't new, but I didn't know about until this year). 

I'm looking forward to listening to new music this year, and visiting the park many times. 

I hope they repair the hole in the path where I recently twisted my ankle! It was a bad sprain, but I've recovered :)

The December light is scarce but magical. 

Against all reason, it keeps us coming back for more.