The Hours
In this edition: bad Facebook posts, sketch comedy, and a new book!
Musings
I joined Facebook in April of 2007. I was 22 years old and excited to connect with people all over the world, to see what everyone was up to, and to reciprocate with what was going on in my life. This was the beginning of many years of what can only be described as excessive oversharing. I present to you exhibit A:
There’s no context here, and it’s not accompanied by any sexy food pics. I, apparently, ate enough to feel satiated and thought this counted as news. Notice how there are no likes and no comments? There’s a lot of that in those early days. Another:
Weird flex. Last one:
What a great day indeed!
I eventually stopped giving commentary on every single minute detail of my life, but I did post regularly for a very long time. I got in political fights, shared blog posts, virtue signaled, memed, learned to post sexy food pics instead of just telling people I consumed food, and posted a million other things intended to create a vision of who I wanted to be in that moment. Every witty comment, every selfie, every thought was, to some degree, curated: carefully considered and thoughtfully (if not wisely) implemented.
There’s a growing body of literature to support the idea that this performative cyberexistence is bad for us: for our mental health, our sense of community, our spiritual wellbeing, our ability to focus, our political systems, and our overall sense of humanity. For these reasons, I chose to more or less exit the social media landscape a few years ago. Some of my accounts still exist, but their use is much more sporadic.
All of this is a roundabout way to arrive here, at this newsletter. You see, I have a book coming out soon, my first full-length poetry collection, and it’s important that I have some avenue to connect with interested readers, however few or many they may be. Gone are the days when writers could hole up in a cabin to write their treatises, relying on others to do all the selling for them. But is selling a few books on social media worth the price of having to check it all the time? I’ve increasingly come to believe that the answer is: probably not.
This newsletter, then, is a place for me to speak to readers and people who are interested in my creative work. If you want to come along for the ride, you are welcome; if not, no hard feelings. If you do stick around, expect a three-part structure to these newsletters:
Musings: Mini essays probably focused on something autobiographical or seasonal. Will they be interesting? I hope so! Will they feature screenshots of Facebook status updates from 2008? Hopefully not often.
Curation: A random collection of things I’ve enjoyed lately. These will mostly be centered on the arts (books, movies, TV shows, etc.), but sometimes they won’t be.
Happenings: The latest news. Here is where I will detail new publications, reading events, reviews, and other noteworthy things related to my writing.
I imagine the frequency of these dispatches will vary, but it will certainly be no more often than once a month. No one needs that much of me. And just to get it out of the way: there are no plans for paid subscriptions or anything like that.
Curation
Books by Abra Berens: I love cookbooks, but one of the things I’ve come to realize is that while they can help you learn how to make a specific dish, they don’t necessarily teach you how to be confident and improvisational in the kitchen. Berens’ books are different, instead teaching you how to handle specific ingredients and then helping you see how they can work with others to form a cohesive meal. Grist (grains and beans), Ruffage (vegetables), and Pulp (fruit) are some of the best resources I have in the kitchen.
The Lonely Island and Seth Meyers Podcast: This podcast is an oral history of the beloved digital shorts, which were a staple on Saturday Night Live in the early 2000s. What I’ve come to enjoy most about it (aside from the nonstop laughs) is the way it pulls back the curtain to show the insane creative process that goes into creating sketch comedy week after week, detailing how silly little ideas become fully realized concepts.
Night Palace by Mount Eerie: This is a strange album, captivating in some moments and deliberately off-putting in others. It’s hard to even articulate what it is that keeps me coming back to it, but back to it I go. Here is maybe my favorite track:
The Bear: It took me a while to give this show a try, but I get what all the fuss is about. From the first episode, it was obvious that this was going to be a show dripping with intensity, but I didn’t expect to fall in love with the characters—all of them!—as much as I have. I just finished season 2 and am beginning my dive into season 3.
Happenings
As mentioned earlier, my first full-length poetry collection, The Hours, comes out on April 20th with Solum Press and is now available for preorders! Do yourself—and me, frankly—a favor by ordering a copy for yourself, and maybe also copies for the loved ones in your life.
Speaking of books, my chapbook, I Close My Eyes and I Almost Remember, turns 3 this month. If you haven’t read that one, do us all a solid and get yourself a copy. If you have read it—and, crucially, if you enjoyed it—then consider leaving a rating or review on Amazon or Goodreads.
A few months ago, I started a column on faith and the arts on the Substack for Solum Press called In the Image. My first columns were centered around Charlie Kaufman’s bonkers novel Antkind, the underrated film Prometheus, and the boardgame Wingspan. Subscribe to that Substack to stay up to date on that column and other regular features.
I’ve had poems appear recently in two new online journals: Al Dente and Bear Paw Arts Journal. If you, like me, prefer your reading to be on paper, I also had poems published in the most recent issues of The Windhover and Tule Review. Give them a read, if you’re so inclined.
During my sabbatical last year, I spent a few days at Prairiewoods, a Franciscan retreat center outside of Cedar Rapids, and it was there that the rough outline of The Hours came into being. I ended up writing an essay about The Cosmic Walk, an interesting fusion of hiking path and spiritual discipline. Prairiewoods was kind enough to republish that piece on their blog earlier this month.
