Still Processing an Evening With My Heroes
Plus: (Deep)fake interviewees, robot hotel employees & more reading recs
If you could have dinner with anyone — dead or alive — who would it be?
My knee-jerk reaction is to choose someone dead, probably because, well, having the chance to chat with someone who no longer exists seems like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At the same time, there’s a lot of dead people out there, and the options are pretty overwhelming. That’s why, the last time I was asked this question, my answer consisted of two living people: J Wortham and Wesley Morris.
They’re the hosts of one of my favorite culture podcasts, Still Processing. I still remember certain episodes that I played while doing laundry or cooking dinner in college. The two Black, queer hosts discussed topics such as the N-word, bridges in music and climate change. I could listen to this duo for hours, a mere fly on the wall as they dove into pop culture topics in ways that made me stop and let their words marinate before grunting in agreement, Mm. At times I wished that I, too, could verbalize my thoughts so prolifically, and not just on paper.
While I usually pick dead people to have dinner with, the truth is, choosing a living person might be the better bet. Why? No matter how far fetched it may seem, you might actually have a chance at meeting them.
J was at the same Juneteenth Gala I attended last week. They were accepting an award on behalf of the New York Association of Black Journalists, and I was afraid they would leave early the same way CBS Mornings host Gayle King had done just minutes earlier. (I was lucky enough to shake her hand in the elevator right before she headed down.) The moment I noticed J not talking to anyone, I took a deep breath and walked over to say hello. I was determined, despite the fruity cognac cocktail doing somersaults in my stomach.
Their face was kind when they saw me, listening to every word as I tried to compose myself. I told them about how much I loved their podcast and mentioned how I was an early career journalist covering technology, much like they did when they were starting out at Wired. It wasn’t a bad start to the conversation, but my lineup of talking points was quickly running out. How was it that I’d known I wanted to talk to them for years, but not once had I thought of what I’d say to them? Something told me this conversation wouldn’t have made it halfway through a dinner.
At last, my mind went blank. Since I was stubborn and didn’t want our little chat to end, however, I took a deep breath and said, I’m sorry — to be honest, I’m not sure what to do now. All of a sudden, I have no idea what to say.
I felt completely unguarded at that moment, a character of a vulnerable essay writing itself. Somehow I didn’t mention that it was Wesley’s essay that encouraged me to embrace the beauty of vulnerability both in my own writing and in life. That was why I could stand there and say that without feeling embarrassment or shame. I was a nervous noob and that was the truth. I couldn’t pretend that I wasn't.
J didn’t miss a beat, nodding with a slight smile and reassuring me that it was OK. I couldn’t help but wonder if they knew my feelings all too well, the awkwardness that came with being feet away from someone you admired for the first time.
Out of words, I asked them if we could take a photo together and they gestured to the nearest photo booth. I took one of the physical copies home with me, along with that memory of that brief moment that I’ll hold onto for years to come.
Writing update 📝
It’s been a crazy few weeks y’all.
When I’m not burying my nose into the latest stories about Roe v. Wade, I’m trying to re-gain some sense of control by reading a book for leisure. The book in question: Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half.
Sure, I have a book club meeting on Saturday and according to my Books app I’m only *checks notes* 27% of the way through. But that just means any free time I have will likely be spent reading this glorious book, so long as life disruptions don’t get in the way.
Before I run off to read way more than I should in this late hour, I just want to say that I’m in love with the writing already. In my own writing, I often get lost in the details that make up a scene, from the colors of the wallpaper to busted chandelier lightbulb hanging overhead. Some of these details are unnecessary; they help paint a picture in the reader’s mind but don’t do much to serve the story. Bennett gives readers the details that matter, and spends more time filling scenes with characters’ internal monologues and the flashbacks that explain them. The scenes carry more weight this way, not to mention it moves the plot along swiftly, taking us on a journey without having us run out of breath.
Safe to say, I’m taking notes on how I can incorporate these kinds of techniques in my own work. I can’t wait to get to the end. ✨
Stories that inspired me lately 🔗
Amazon shows off Alexa feature that mimics the voices of your dead relatives — by James Vincent for The Verge
This co-worker does not exist: FBI warns of deepfakes interviewing for tech jobs — by Devin Coldewey for TechCrunch
Hotels have gone to the robots — by Nathan Diller for The Washington Post
Apple and Google are coming for your car — by Sara Morrison for Vox
Apple Wants to End Passwords for Everything. Here’s How It Would Work. — by Dalvin Brown for The Wall Street Journal
Honorable mentions:
Got crabs? No, not those, obviously I’m talking about these teeny-tiny remote-controlled robots!
This guy visited that futuristic Taco Bell where tacos fall from the sky.
Happy birthday to the iPhone! This revolutionary device turns 15 today.
That’s all for now. Stay informed and take good care of yourself this week. Until next time.