Vivid and Pressing Fancies
Hello and welcome.
Hello!
If you’re receiving this email, it’s because you have subscribed to my newsletter. Thank you so much - it’s an amazing show of faith considering I have yet to divulge anything meaningful about it. For your convenience, I have drafted a mission statement:
Vivid and Pressing Fancies is a newsletter which contains no news. It does, however, contain all of the letters, except W, who knows what she did. I have been looking for a way to distribute my writing in a world where social media feels increasingly exhausting and no longer mandatory, and after making sure I’d already tweeted this joke, I decided to give Substack a try.
Like the revelation that your coworker who’s been referring to his “partner” is actually straight, this newsletter will come when you least expect it. There will be no logic to when it arrives in your inbox, no schedule to which it is beholden. It is free (both in the “wild horse” sense and in the monetary sense).
As for its content, expect parody pieces, personal stories, both lists and listicles, wordplay that can only be described as “very droll,” fiction that can only be described as “truly gross,” general kvetching, writing from my past, and – hopefully – writing from my future (I’m waiting for my male psychic, Justin, to get back to me on that).
But real talk: anyone who knows me knows that I believe there is way too much content right now. While I am extremely grateful for your subscription to this, I also give you full permission to jump ship at any time. Maybe you abhor nautical turns of phrase and so are going to unsubscribe after reading that last sentence. That’s fine. I will still love you, I promise.
That concludes the nuts and bolts! Thank you for coming along on this ride. I also want to thank David Carliner, whose incredible newsletter inspired me to make this one.
Without further ado, here’s the first post.
VIVID AND PRESSING FANCIES
I just finished Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin, which was absolutely one of the best books I have ever read. I’m sure it will come up in a future newsletter, so I will keep my (impressively astute, phenomenally unique) thoughts on it to myself for now.
Zevin’s title is a pull-quote from a Macbeth soliloquy, which I did not realize until it was explicitly explained to me in the text. When considering titles for this newsletter, I hoped that I might pull my title from that speech as well, but unfortunately “The Sound and the Fury” was already taken, and I feel like people may not be inclined to read a newsletter entitled “The Way to Dusty Death” or “A Tale Told By An Idiot,” even if those may be apt.
Some time ago, I went on a few dates with a very handsome man who was writing a thesis on an 19th century German writer by the name of Heinrich von Kleist. In what can only be described as the gay equivalent of “female colleague who goes to the strip club to prove she is chill,” I decided to read one of Kleist’s novellas, entitled The Marquise of O.
“Enrapturing, thought-provoking, and worth every minute I spent reading it,” is a review I might give of this novella if I were outright lying. I truly thought it was nonsense, which might be somewhat in part to the quality of the translation, but I think mostly it was just too experimental for my tastes. I did finish it (reiterating that this man was reallllly hot), and found myself lingering on this sentence:
“No,” replied the marquise, but consumed by vivid and pressing fancies, she looked back, with some reluctance, upon her work.
Am I confident in my understanding of this sentence? No. But I love the phrase “vivid and pressing fancies.” Something about it really resonates with me. I think it’s an accurate description of my brain – a flurry of ideas that feel bright and urgent, but ultimately are probably nothing.
When envisioning this newsletter, I realized this phrase was everything I wanted in a title – it’s unique, punchy (ish), could encompass basically any kind of content, and, most importantly, is a quote from an obscure writer’s 1808 novella, which makes me seem incredibly erudite.
Of course, much in the way that it took me over a year to decide what cheap dinner plates to buy myself, I compiled a long list of options before deciding on VAPF (VPF? Still working out the abbreviation…). For your reading pleasure, here are the other contenders, accompanied by their origins and reasons why I ultimately did not choose them.
“Bestie Let Me Merge”
My friend Paul sent me a bumper sticker reading this with the caption “omg you need.” I have rarely felt so seen. It feels like the perfect title for a tiktok diary of a sixteen-year-old girl on a quest to overcome her fear of driving. To be fair, that’s a pretty accurate description of my vibe, which is why this was my runner-up.
“A One on One Situation”
This is a quote from my kindergarten report card, which reads “He has been playing more often in a one-on-one situation with boys even though he still finds it easier socially to be with the girls.” It is by far the nicest way I have ever been called a faggot. However, without the above context, I fear this sounds like a dating strategy book written by a man who will shortly be canceled due to numerous sexual assault charges.
“Vyoch Tyoch Tyoch”
This is the name of one of my favorite Yiddish songs, and from what I can tell, it’s an onomatopoeia of Yiddish laughter (like “ha ha ha” but with seasonal allergies). This was my profile song on Raya (brag) and while I stand by its merits in conveying who I am as a person, frankly the SEO is just awful. Case in point, I misspelled it just now, despite considering it one of my favorite songs. I do think this would be a great title for a “Bronx Beat”-style shtetl gossip podcast, if a) podcasts had existed back then and b) shtetl women had been able to do, you know, anything.
“Well, Nothing That’s Not Been Said”
This is a line from Sondheim’s “Move On,” a song that makes me cry nearly every time I sing both parts in the shower. In the song, George complains, “I’ve nothing to say…. well, nothing that’s not been said,” and Dot replies, “Said by you, though, George.” I love this sentiment so much, but ultimately it feels like a pretty pessimistic title for a newsletter I would like people to, if not read start to finish, at least open.
“Cut Always to the Heart”
This is a snippet from Madeline Miller’s “The Song of Achilles,” which is one of my go-to answers when asked what my favorite book is. Unfortunately this sounds to me like a grim Lifetime movie starring Shailene Woodley, and is much too serious for this silly newsletter, which will probably Cut to the Feeling more often than the heart.
“Fleishman Is In Trouble”
There’s something about this phrase that works, but ultimately I also think that this too is a title for a video diary about a 16-year-old-girl learning not to be scared of driving. I’m gonna save it for something in the future, though, I feel like it has potential.
There were many more of these, but I know I’m pushing your attention spans as it is. Thank you so much for subscribing – as we know from the story of how I landed at my newsletter title, I am truly, truly horny for attention and praise, so it means the world to me.
Ich liebe dich,
Johnny
If you have a friend with whom you’d like to share this newsletter, a linkable version of this post can be found on johnnylazebnik.substack.com.