into a cocoon

announcing a short summer break

Dear friend,

I usually start my little newsletters with some kind of framework in mind: “I want to share 5 ideas” or “I have something to say about X or Y.”

Today, the core is this: I am so tired.

A few nights ago, I was blasting one of my favorite albums into my ears. It was The War on Drugs’ album A Deeper Understanding.

As the radiant synthy music wrapped me up in sound and feeling (especially this song, an all-time favorite song), I was reminded of a line from a Pitchfork review of the album: “it’s the impossible sweep and grandeur of the music that tells the real story, of how a rush of sound can take us somewhere we can’t explain.”

I love running the Closely Reading book group, which has become a kind of magical little gathering of smart readers and deep thinkers and devoted literary lovers. I love it so much, and I love that we’ve made it so magical together. I’m so glad we’ve found each other here on Substack and I’m so invigorated by our conversations each week.

I also love getting lost in a project; I adore having something big and intellectual and literary to devote myself to each week.

I have a longer essay I’m preparing for academic publication — yes, yes, another project — and I’d like to turn my attention to it for a few weeks.

And, despite all of this love (or perhaps in part because of it) throwing myself into such projects and processes usually results in a bit of a crash at the end.

I’m in a crash-time, at the moment.

And in said crash-time, I’m realizing I need a few weeks off to sit alone with myself. I look at my drafts folder and my notebooks and my wall full of post-it notes and I see so many messes — lovely, encouraging messes. I want to go sit in the mess for a bit.

I want to go into that “somewhere we can’t explain.”

That’s the place I so often come back to myself. It’s a quiet place and it’s not always filled with ready words or sentences. Sometimes, it’s a totally wordless experience, being there. That used to scare me, but now it’s something I love like the thirsty love water.

I like going there without the need to report on my findings; I like going there without asking myself to explain. I like going there without the need to make words of it all.

So. I’m making a little cocoon.

We’ll see what comes out at the end. Could be goo. Could be butterflies. Could be nothing at all. I’m not sure that matters. The cocoon matters as much as what comes out of it. Maybe sometimes, the cocoon matters most.

I’ll be back soon, with new essays and some ideas for our next read-a-long. (!!!)

If you’re expecting a postcard, they’ll be in the mail soon (as soon as my shipment of postcards arrives!), so watch your mailbox instead of your inbox for word from me.

In the meantime:

• Explore the archive — I’ve opened up the entire last year to all subscribers

  • Browse the top posts (determined by the number of Likes they received)

  • Check out my personal favorites (determined by my own like)

• Pause your paid subscription, if you’d like

• Do something nice for yourself

  • Need ideas? Okay:

    • Take yourself on a date to all your favorite places all by yourself

    • Buy yourself flowers next time you’re at the grocery store

    • Write a letter to yourself to open in exactly one year’s time

    • Read something you can hold in your hands, like a paperback or a magazine or an old journal

    • Play the solo version of your favorite board game or card game or do a jigsaw puzzle

    • Go get your very favorite treat whether it’s a bag of sour candies at the gas station or that salty chocolate chip cookie your coffee shop makes

    • Listen to your favorite song on repeat as loud as you want for as long as you want

    • Tell yourself something really lovely about yourself next time you look in the mirror, like: “I have a kind heart” or “wow, my eyes are a very pretty color,” or “I love what I made/started/changed/chose last week”

Guess what I learned recently? You don’t have to pick just one of these. You can do any of them, all of them, anything you dream up for yourself. Whenever you want. Being a grown-up is kinda awesome sometimes.

See you later this summer, my friends.

And ’til next time, happy reading! 📚