Thursday, January 30th, just after 7 PM

I just had some chicken pot roast, made in a beautiful new pot we recently acquired. There are these wooden spoons in the house that I love using—completely impractical, reminiscent of early pioneering woodenware. They remind me of an image from The Hateful Eight, where Kurt Russell blows on his stew. That stew is my goal—lazily cut, boiling hot—the perfect cure for a dark January evening on the East Coast.

Lately, I’ve stepped back from interacting with social media the way I used to. I’ve brought on a social media manager to handle my accounts, which has given me the space I need between myself and what can be an engaging but often distracting medium. Social media isn’t inherently bad, but I realized it wasn’t serving me creatively. I won’t dwell on it much, but for clarity: I’ll be checking my platforms in the evening on desktop for messages, but moving forward, the best way to reach me is via email. Any content I create is still mine, but I now do it on my laptop, giving me a greater sense of deliberateness—hopefully allowing me to focus more on what I’m trying to create.

That has been the theme of this month, actually. I’ve found myself viewing the world through a slightly vintage lens. I’m not churning my own butter or typing on a typewriter, but I’ve been more aware of the historical contexts that surround us. I wouldn’t call myself a history buff, but I do watch a lot of mafia documentaries and films from the ‘70s and ‘80s—which, in terms of modern U.S. history, isn’t the worst place to start.

Just last week, I spent some time in Chicago. Everywhere I went, I imagined Al Capone walking the same streets—this short, disruptive man storming into rooms, overtaking them instantly. I looked at the buildings and wondered what he would’ve thought of them. I pictured him grumbling about the cold. The indulgence peaked one evening at a jazz show at Green Mill, one of Capone’s old haunts in his heyday.

Other times, I imagined a young Bill Murray, bouncing through the city like a rubber ball on a warm spring day. I pictured how striking a yellow cab must have looked in the ‘70s on a bitter winter night, especially when you were stranded after last call. I don’t drink much anymore, but Chicago still seems like a great place to tie one on. Someone will have to let me know if that’s still the case. I’d like to believe my days of deliberate inebriation are behind me, but then again—I’ve never been one to quit anything in my life.

The trip was cut short by a cold, which promptly escalated into the flu when I got home. I spent 24 hours in bed, barely able to stay awake for more than 15 minutes at a time. In my fevered state, I was struck by the historical reality of how helpless we humans are against something as simple as the flu. Given how I felt, I was unsurprised that the Spanish Influenza wiped out hundreds of thousands. And yet, with an app that can deliver essential provisions in under an hour, I became acutely aware of how luxurious even a modest modern life can be.

By Monday evening around 8 PM, I woke up from my fourth or fifth two-hour sleep cycle and realized the day had passed in darkness. I also remembered that I had a single scheduled to release at midnight. In a daze, I pulled myself together, completed what needed to be done, and submitted everything to the right people. As the final upload finished, I collapsed back into my heap of pillows, Tums chewables, Poppi probiotic soda, and whispered a quiet thanks to the sweet divine for the modern conveniences of home.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the release and look forward to sharing more in the coming months. I have plans, but this past week reminded me not to commit to anything I can’t yet fulfill. That said, we’re off to a great start.

Your Friend,
-BA