Writing is longing
For a drip of tenderness
For a city less monstrous
For an old amiga’s smile
For a father’s phone call
For booty shakes & sledgehammers
For fury made regal & worn like a crown
This week I finished my podclass. To be honest, I’m still kind of reeling from how much I learned and what I’ll do with that information next. Towards the end, I had reached a kind of delirium—I was spending somewhere between six and 20 hours of my week working on podclass projects in addition to the rest of my life—and commuting about an hour to Brooklyn two nights a week. It was the most glorious kind of haze, where you know eventually this will have all been worth it. And it was.
I listen to a lot of podcasts for my work with The Bello Collective, and I leave the class with a better ear for how stories are told. When I notice a less than perfect audio cut, I wonder what came after. When the music swells, I wonder why they chose to frame that moment. And where I once imagined a story in words, I now also imagine it as sound.
So, this is my final project. It’s about my friend James who is as talented as they come. James and I had an amazing first recording session—deeply personal and funny too—only it didn’t record properly and the tape was tragically unusable. We later recorded a much different second interview where we discussed his show The Outline World Dispatch. I’m of the opinion that interviewing someone you like will result in better sound. I certainly hope that’s the case here.
See you next week.
If my twenties were about the hustle, maybe my thirties will be about the medium chill.
It was not so long ago that the unit of measurement for home was not a house, but a bed.
Librarians are superheroes.
This is just a reminder: we can’t separate food from politics.
From beginning to end, this story rocked me.
Have we forgotten how to read? I’ve been averaging about a book a week so far this year (that is until the Olympics), and while I keep working my way down the list, there seem to be ever so many more to add.
Podcasting as soft diplomacy.
I think a lot these days about how and where I want to grow old. Sometimes, it’s deep in the mountains, down an old country road, with only the sound of crickets to keep me company. Other times, it’s in the middle of a bustling city, surrounded by art and access and people. Mostly, I think how I wouldn’t mind if a bunch of friends (and a few young people for good measure), built a baugruppe together and lived there.
Legends of the Fall is on Netflix. Thank you and goodbye.
This American Life has done it again.
You know the Roberta Flack song “Killing Me Softly”? Yeah, the woman who wrote it never got any credit (or money) for her work. Hi-Phi Nation talks about the ethics of cover songs.
It’s still very much winter, and I’ve been dreaming about polenta.
While I’ve been commuting out to Brooklyn, I’ve been filling my shelves with as much Brooklyn Roasting Company beans as they will hold. If you’re coffee-minded, I highly recommend their collection. Right now my favorite is the Mocha Java.