not quite the post I intended
uhhhh good morning I guess
good (?????) morning subscribers,
I was going to send an essay last night— it was scheduled for around midnight because, bizarrely, these emails seem to have the best open rate around then— and, for obvious reasons, that didn’t happen. griefbacon will be back next week, when paid subscriber content will be launching (one email for everybody, one for paying subscribers, plus an open discussion thread for paying subscribers on a yet-to-be-decided topic, it’ll be fun). for now, here’s a nice photo of sophie and bowie, the two beautiful domesticated pastries who live in my apartment.
next week and beyond there will be essays about conversation pits, and indoor jeans, and transformation and hibernation and change and the particular letdown and long hangover that is the month of January, and taking eight months to read three (3) books about thomas cromwell, and maybe—maybe— something about why I think the personal essay is good and worthwhile as a form. I still hope you’ll subscribe, and maybe recommend this newsletter to friends and family and loved ones and enemies and people on the internet you have a crush on. stay safe, stay home if you can, wear a mask, donate to and pitch in with mutual aid (here are two links, one in New York and one in LA, to the wishlists of friends who are doing great work providing resources for unhoused neighbors in their communities), tell people you love that you love them. see you next week. xo
