Tonight we toast, tomorrow we clean

Also, news from HanukkahLand: AppleSue the Hanukkangaroo

IN WHICH:

• Walkie talkies become a metaphor for this cornyass love.

• Leonard Cohen wins song of the year.

• The Maccabees re-enter the Second Temple.

• AppleSue loves her job.

1.

I got Jessi walkie talkies for Christmas. She asked for them. In her head, it’s a way for us to stay connected. She has this fantasy of us communicating this way, as if our Instagram memes weren’t enough.

I never thought I’d be in a relationship like this, the kind where people say, “You’re cute together.” At this moment, it’s even hard for me to believe.

Part of me hates it.

2.

There’s a perfect song you should play at your New Year’s toast.

It is “Everybody Knows,” Leonard Cohen’s non-hit (did he ever have a hit?) off of the 1988 record I’m Your Man. I know the blitz has been swarming around Dylan for a while, with the campaign to make Chalamet his Mini-Me and someone on Bob’s team prodding him to finally get onto Twitter, which worked, right as everyone was escaping, but content-wise this moment belongs to Cohen. His low trembling smarm is exactly what we need.

Listen to the lyrics, you’ll hear it:

Everybody knows the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor and the rich get rich
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Really, how could we have been so stupid? Prior to the election, I resisted this brand of sanctimonious cynicism. Now I find it comforting. I read a Substack that said the world order is changing like it did in the 1920s and 30s. Roosevelts will be found in France. Anne Franks will emerge from Gaza. The other day Robert Reich floated the idea of Canada annexing the northern US. He was joking, but was he really?

3.

The walkie talkies were also a gift for me. A month ago, I worked up the courage to tell Jessi I wanted us to have a Plan. I was reading too much Substack and my vision was blurred. I don’t even know what I mean by a Plan, I just know RuPaul has one and I want one for us too.

She said we should get walkie talkies. It’s beautiful how she gets me.

4.

AppleSue the Hanukkangaroo™ runs the HanukkahLand Apple Orchard, providing HanukkahLand with an endless supply of applesauce. It’s a job only she can do because of her ability to jump high into the trees and get the apples.

Everyone in HanukkahLand seems to have a job that only they can have.

After a long day of jumping and people pleasing, AppleSue often feels drained and unable to cope. Even worse that everybody assumes AppleSue just loves her job, and she must work to maintain this persona. Her only coworkers are the WhackaBees™, cute little cartoon apidae that pollinate the orchard.

The WhackaBees are her only friends. AppleSue never wants to see people after work for fear she’ll meet somebody and they’ll see the bags under her eyes and know that she is in fact miserable.

5.

It’s times like this I want a song that speaks from a place of authority to tell me this is the way things are, this is how it is. I haven’t documented how many times these authority voices are correct, but there is comfort in hearing from this voice.

One time I was DJing an afterparty in Greenpoint. Before I went on, I stepped outside to take in the air. Trump had just gotten into a Twitter fight with the head of Iran, or maybe it was North Korea, but either way, I was feeling like we were about to get nuked. I expressed this to Mo, a comedian who was outside for a smoking break. He had a voice similar to Leonard Cohen, but he looked like Quincy Jones.

“Anyone of us could get shot at any moment,” he said. “You could get hit by a bus, have a heart attack.”

So in this sense, nobody knows. And I find this comforting.

6.

Once, AppleSue saw the future. It came to her in a vision, clear as day. But before she could write it down, her lunch break was over.

7.

Tonight, we count down to another uncertain future. Maybe this is what the Roman Empire looked like in its final days. In general, I try not to concern myself with these kinds of thoughts. “We know that Jews were prohibited from investigating the future,” says Walter Benjamin. “The Torah and the prayers instruct them in remembrance, however.”

For another voice of authority, I turn back to Anne Frank:

I have now reached the stage that I don’t care much whether I live or die. The world will still keep on turning without me; what is going to happen, will happen, and anyway it’s no good trying to resist.

I trust to luck and do nothing but work, hoping that all will end well.

8.

My research on walkie talkies led me to the Midland X-Talker T31. In a few days, they were in my mailroom.

I never thought I’d be in a relationship like this. I hate it because it feeds my insecurities. It crosses my mind that maybe I was stronger when I was alone.

9.

It makes me think of the moment before the Jews re-entered the Second Temple. What did they think they’d find? Toppled cardboard cutouts of Zeus? Bathroom walls smeared with spanakopita feces? At the very least they knew whatever they found was bound to be a miracle.

And a lot of cleaning to do.

Tonight, my toast is to the miracles ahead we can’t possibly predict. Here’s hoping we know them when we see them.

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This is part 7 of an eight-part series called HanukkahLand. To catch up:

• HanukkahLand 1: “Let’s talk about Judah Maccabee’s dad”

• HanukkahLand 2: “Rly sry, I did an antisemitism”

• HanukkahLand 3: “Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop”

• HanukkahLand 4: “Not another Hanukkah story”

• HanukkahLand 5: “Anne Frank is a content machine”

• HanukkahLand 6: “Eight Crazy Nights wants to fix you”