This poem was inspired by listening to The Cure’s Disintegration at top volume in my studio.
I put it at the top of last Friday’s newsletter, “A New Appreciation.”
This poem was inspired by listening to The Cure’s Disintegration at top volume in my studio.
I put it at the top of last Friday’s newsletter, “A New Appreciation.”
Here is an old blackout poem I stuck in Tuesday’s letter, “Your next best friend,” which is about making good friends — with people and books.
We spend a lot of our lives as readers on the search for new books. But how many great books are already waiting for us on our shelves? How many favorite authors would we form deep relationships with if we simply read or re-read a few more of their books?
I really like the way this one turned out. You can read the whole thing here.
“The Inflatable Man” is a metaphor Meghan came up with on one of our morning walks. I thought maybe there was an essay or a newsletter in it, and went looking for them around town. Once I shot this footage, I decided to make a Weird Little Something out of it. I believe we should all make Weird Little Somethings once in a while.
Tuesday’s newsletter was “on sitting around and reading a novel” for nothing but the pleasure of it:
[The feeling] that you’re getting away with something […] is really important to the reading experience. Reading should feel a little subversive… because it is! To sit around and read a novel in the year 2025 is an act of resistance — you’re swimming against the current of the entire contemporary shitstream.
Readers left hundreds of recommendations in the comments of that one.
For a list of some of my favorite novels, check out a previous letter, “Big books for summer.”
This Easter I was reminded of this photo I took in east Austin, 2013. (The sign reads: “Don’t make your own easter eggs — ain’t nobody got time for that!“)
That’s one kind of Easter egg, but the other is a hidden feature or a message.
Not everybody knows this, but I hide Easter eggs in every one of my Friday newsletters — the “hey y’all” greeting and the “xoxo” signoff is always hyperlinked. (I can’t remember when I started this practice, but I know I stole from Laura Olin.)
Sometimes the links are random, but often they comment somehow on the list of 10.
Here’s the most recent Friday letter so you can see what I mean: “Art comes from other art.”
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