Hello! Welcome to my weekly newsletter. Sorry this one’s arriving in your in-box at a strange hour of the night, meaning that I was either working on it too late or I intentionally scheduled it to be sent out at this weird time. Either way, you’re rightfully worried about me right off the bat.
It might take you a second to remember how you know me or when you signed up for my newsletter. Let me clear that up: we met at your ex’s birthday, which is why you don’t remember anything about me and it’s so annoying to see my name in your in-box.
And some good news—you didn’t sign up for this newsletter! I went ahead and signed you up without consulting you.
Here are three dashes for dramatic effect. We’ve entered a new section of the newsletter, the section where you realize, “Wow, I’m actually going to read this newsletter that is breaking and entering into my in-box.”
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Now I’ll begin abusing the time and attention I’m stealing from you to ramble on about “something I was contemplating about the world we find ourselves in.” That’s right, this newsletter is a place for my musings, with lots of digressions and links to articles. But most of the links are broken, so you’ll never know what paywalled article “changed my thinking.”
Here’s a huge GIF that will take forever to load. But don’t worry, once it loads, you’ll have plenty to think about, wondering how a monster truck jumping over a bunch of buses is relevant. Could the monster truck represent me and the buses represent the social graces and manners I’m aggressively leaping over?
Here is a list of events that I’ll be attending this week, in case you want to see me in person. They’re a mix of birthday parties, readings, and comedy performances. This raises a question: Are you really going to get one of these newsletters every week? Or, God forbid, more than once a week? You’ll have to come to find out!
Hear’s any easily fixable typo. It’s important to me that everyone get this newsletter, but not so important that I proofread it.
I’ll also be displaying some of my art at a punnily named café in a far-flung part of town. Where do I live, you wonder? It’s a mystery as profound as why I signed you up for my newsletter. The pieces I’ve chosen to display at Brewing Grounds are part of a series I’m working on about what it feels like to force your way into someone’s in-box without asking. It’s an exploration of what it’s like to think that the average person doesn’t already get enough unwanted e-mail.
I also have an improv show coming up, of course. But even I know you won’t come to that.
Here’s another gigantic GIF. This is one is of a baby putting a lemon in his mouth and recoiling from the sourness. Is this a visualization of what it feels like to have read this much of my newsletter?
Here’s a horizontal line, letting you know that I know how to work the TinyLetter software, but also that there’s a shift in tone coming.
In some personal news, our beloved Bruce has passed away. He was a light in all of our lives and a beloved member of our little family. You’re not sure if Bruce is a person or a pet, but you’ll feel sad nonetheless. You may even consider taking a break from the newsletter to browse my Instagram and find out who Bruce is. Now you’re invested in my personal life! The newsletter is working its twisted magic.
While you’re on my Instagram, take a gander at what I look like. Not what you expected, right? This is the face of someone who thought, yes, my college acquaintance’s ex needs to know which quiche recipe I swear by.
Wow! The biggest GIF yet! It’s of this year’s Stanley Cup champions hoisting the trophy over their sweaty heads! Do I like hockey? How would you know, you barely remember meeting me!
If you want to be unsubscribed from this newsletter, please e-mail me and I’ll take you off the list. But you’ll never do that, out of a deep aversion to conflict. You are lashed to the mast of this newsletter forever because, for all you know, I am an immortal being, created purely to torment you until the heat death of the universe.
Thanks for reading!
