Rot Culture

Sunday. Memorial Day Weekend.

If ever there were a calendar day to consciously commit to doing nothing, I’d argue this is the one. Nothing at the beach. The park. Home in bed. Player’s choice.

I hereby decree this day: Rot Sunday.

In a total 180 from last week, this is an ode to anti-productivity. To nothingness.

But is it really not productive? What does “nothing” even mean?

Maggie’s Rot Sunday (2024)

I sat in the park, staring into space, eating a baguette absolutely dripping with butter and jam. It was humid out. Everything was sticky and slow.

Later on, in my front yard, I lay on my favorite blanket, which has seen some things and holds many a memory. (See: the burn holes from whoever thought it would be a good idea to bring a hookah to my house senior year of high school.) 

It was a beautiful afternoon, and as I had been inside on the computer for a large majority of a largely sunny week, I decided it was time for me to catch up on my vitamin D.

I dozed like cat in the sun. On and off for four gorgeous hours.

That night, I barbecued with my dad. I took a hot bath and made a face mask. Ate a Levain cookie and watched the Ted Lasso finale  — finally, one goddamn year later.

And then, I went to sleep.

The funny thing is this: I felt the urge to work on Rot Sunday. I almost went in to work a party at the brewery, and I could have easily clocked a couple hours of the “new job”. 

But the importance of nothingness after a long week was knocking loud. And I answered, gladly.

My hypothesis: nothingness is not nothing.

Take, for example, social media’s favorite verb of 2024: rotting.

“To rot” almost always involves scrolling or streaming — a whole lot of intake, intake, intake. So, while I understand the sentiment and have obviously been there many a time, I don’t like the term. 

It implies decay.

More than anything, the kind of “nothingness” I preach is a basis for growth.

I’m talking about the act of just existing. Being.

For the millionth time, I am reminded of The Artist’s Way (a sort of creative “bible”, for those unaware). Specifically, the week of no reading. That’s right — no words! No text messages. No emails. No news. No books. Much harder today than in 1992 — don’t you think, Julia Cameron?

The point of the exercise is how it allows your brain to exist, to process, to simply be on its own, without any external stimulus.

Other forms of being might include: 

  • Hurkle-durkle: the Scottish term for lingering in bed in the morning longer than necessary

  • Flâneur: the French term for idling; specifically in reference to a modern city-dweller, wandering the streets with time to spare

  • Dolce far niente: Italian, the sweetness of doing nothing

Everyone has their own nothing, a favorite way to just be. Mine is lying on the beach, the feeling of sun on my skin. The sound of the ocean. 

[Aside: some people, of course, simply cannot partake in this kind of being. They cannot stroll aimlessly. They cannot lay in the sun or on the grass without music or a podcast. They have never even considered the idea of meditation because they can’t stand silence. It disturbs them out to hear their own thoughts. To this I say: red flag. But don’t be offended. I say this to several friends on a regular basis.]

Daydreaming, zoning out, letting your thoughts flow and hell, maybe even listening to them… is seriously important.

Getting in touch with what’s going on in your mind  — the deeper mind, not just your daily to-do list — allows for clarity on multiple levels. Personal and professional. It might even spark some goal-setting.

Doing nothing is actually productive.

Even Rot Culture serves its purpose in the manic day to day of our lives. We don’t have to think too much. We have a laugh or two or two hundred. Share the laugh with a friend at the click of a button. (Though I suppose the correct expression is “tap”…)

The mental check-out is necessary. So, maybe I was wrong. Maybe rot is not decay. Maybe, scrolling is for us what taking a long walk was for our parents at a younger age…

Eh. Still don’t love it. 

But perhaps the purpose is essentially the same.

Relax. Be with yourself. Live and let rot.

ONWARDS,

Maggie