What are we even doing here?

This is my fourth start at this. My first draft was an alienating, funny-to-me-in-the-moment mess of insular jokes and obscure references. The second was an earnest statement of purpose that felt a little sterile, the third a passionate crie de cœur that went long on Putting It In Perspective. In the intervening week, the last of 2025, a lot of horrible shit happened, both to people overseas and where I live, orchestrated by horrible people in buildings regularly within a short walk of me, like it does most weeks. My life went on, in all it's weirdness, joy, and messiness, as it usually does. And there are so many people out there I know and miss with whom I would love to share and commiserate and laugh and cuss, but I'm not, and I haven't been.

One moment is all it takes for all of those things to be different, and today events make the whole writing process to introduce this newsletter seem kind of indulgent.

So there's some urgency.

[I did put some thought into what I was creating, and if you're interested in that, you can read About it.]

What I'm doing here is the work to reconnect with the people I care about from outside of where I spend most of my life, and to deepen those connections, along with those of whom are already in physical or digital proximity. I'm making a commitment to being a better friend and a closer family member. I'm pushing myself to describe my experience of the world to you with vulnerability and compassion.

Oh, there's more, and a lot of catching up to do, but I don't have to write about it all at once. I'm excited about this project and have a lot that I want to share, but I also want this to be a sustainable and enjoyable experience for myself. What I'm doing here is practicing restraint and discipline.

Related: I'm also editing. A lot.

Finally, after this week of trying to get out of my own way and get this project up and running, along with the bevy of holiday festivities (all of which had the unintended benefit of keeping my attention from the news), I'm trying to chill out a little bit. I'm under the weather and Monday Morning lurks. We'll reconvene the recollection and reflection next week.

In the meantime, I'd be grateful if you'd sign up for the newsletter and for you to leave comments when the moment moves you, especially if you have a project of your own that I can follow. Thanks for making it this far. Have some harmless fluff down yonder.

A drop in the ear

The classics never go out of style I suppose. The music of the Minutemen, I mean. Neo-colonialism still sucks. Double Nickels on the Dime remains a musically unimpeachable punk masterpiece and, unfortunately, topically relevant.

In grad school, I harbored ambitions of designing a sociology course where the texts would be listening to Minutemen songs, succinct blasts about big issues in plain language that anyone can wrap their heads around. With a broader playlist, it could still be a fun way to teach sociology in a popular education format.

Demonstrating the continued value of a liberal arts education

This portion of our newsletter is exactly as advertised. Today I want to extol the virtues of quitting a book before finishing. All the President's Men and, to a lesser extent, The Final Days played an outsize role on some big decisions that shaped my life, but beyond those books (last read maybe 30 years ago?) I haven't read any Bob Woodward blockbuster tell-alls. I've read about them, obviously, but I've never cracked an actual spine. I tried reading Veil (Woodward's biography of Reagan-era CIA director William Casey) over the last couple of weeks, but the only takeaway is that the only thing that separates the right-wing foreign policy adventurism of that era from today is Ivy League credentials and country club manners. The goals and outcomes remain the same.

Caturday e'ryday

In place of observation and reflection, please accept the judgement of our cat Ellie.

See you next week.