what is griefbacon?

A bunch of long, weird essays. The conversations you have when you’re the last people at a party at 3am. That feeling you get after taking a long, hot shower, or after crying a lot, or after crying a lot in a long hot shower. An essay-newsletter thing about weirdness and ugliness of the ways we try to love each other. Writing that shows up in your email every Monday and Wednesday morning, and occasionally on Fridays. Each month, shorter posts will make up pieces of a longer essay-in-progress, the whole of which will go out to everybody around the end of the month. Paying subscribers get to read all the pieces and watch the longer essays (hopefully? I guess?) come together over a few weeks. There'll also sometimes be music blog-ish posts and sometimes recommendation posts for things like sunscreen, or Gatorade, or stuff to do in a city. For paying subscribers, there'll also be open threads once a week where we chat about our weird feelings together. I think confessional essays can be substantive and ambitious without being exploitative or uncomfortable, and my hope is that this can be a space for that kind of writing. A place to talk about love and get weird.

For now, subscriptions cost are $5 a month, or $50/year. Subscriptions get you about twice as much content: pieces of essays as I work on them, open group discussion threads, all the random weird posts about music and sunscreen and non-alcoholic beverages and lists of what type of lamp is the most divorced or whatever (those big, expensive floorlamps that look like old-timey movie-set lights, obviously). If you want to subscribe but the cost makes it impossible, email me directly and I’ll make it happen; I know the cost can be prohibitive for people and I want to do my best to ameliorate that.

Subscribe to Griefbacon

sitting on the floor at 3am at the party after everybody else has gone home.


I write Griefbacon, a long-running newsletter that's mostly weird essays about love.