going it alone

Hi. I keep getting followers here. I no longer update this newsletter as Substack is full of nazis, racists, and transphobes, all propped up by the people who run this company. Anyhow, I am now running a website called I Have That on Vinyl, and I write stories there often, along with many other contributors. Come visit. Write something for me. Read some stories about records. Get off Substack.

For reasons I will not get into deeply here, I must leave Substack again. I left once before over their politics and ideology and when I thought they were listening to people and changing their ways I came back but their partnership with Bari Weiss is a bridge too far and I cannot be associated with this company any longer. Not that they give a shit, I am small potatoes in a sea of newsletters that are pulling in 100k readers, as well as money. So I’m not going to make a big stance about it.

[enjoy this tale from the year 2000] I cannot bake. I can cook. I can whip up a gourmet meal at a moment’s notice. But baking leaves me frustrated and in a foul mood. So generally, I don’t do it. I leave the baking for the Martha Stewarts in my family. So why did I find myself standing in my kitchen one December many years ago, elbow deep in flour and frosting? I’ll tell you why. It was my sister’s fault. I work with my sister. She is the social butterfly to my anti-social maggot.

I’m six years old and I’m tucked into bed in my brand new Winnie the Pooh pajamas, my gold Christmas dress hanging above me, my hair a mess of ribbons I refused to take out. Christmas is over and I sink into my pillow, exhausted, happy, ready to dream about my new toys and Santa and a day spent with family. The winter holidays just hit different when you’re a child. I had idyllic Christmases, surrounded by cousins, gifts, holiday cheer.

[welcome, new readers, enjoy my traditional telling of this christmas story] My least favorite Christmas song is not a holiday tune at all, but rather a lame pop song from the late 70’s that reminds me of what was my Worst. Christmas. Ever. The year was 1978. It was tumultuous year; the death of Keith Moon, the Jonestown Massacre, the debut of Garfield, Saturday Night Fever. For a 16 year old, I had an acute awareness of the world outside of my own little high school/town.

It’s sort of like the week in joy, but it’s all about the media and food I consumed this week. Everything below comes highly recommended, so I hope you find something to watch/read/listen to today. I woke up in a particularly funky mood one day at 3am and didn’t know what to do with myself. It’s no fun feeling bad at 3am. Then lo and behold, I was flipping through channels when I discovered one that was playing all Charlie Brown movies.

I have written briefly here about this, but I wanted to take this opportunity to really introduce you to my website that is launching on Tuesday the 10th. I Have That On Vinyl (IHTOV) is a pet project born out of passion. I’m not going to write a whole essay about the reason for the site here; that’s my opening column on Tuesday. But I will tell you - and you know this already if you’ve been here a while - the things I am most passionate about in life are music and records.

Hello and welcome to another week in joy. It was a good, if interesting, week. Quitting twitter and weed in the same week (two weeks ago) is something that’s really starting to come into full focus now. The impotent rageful anger I was expressing on twitter has dissipated. The toxic cloud inside my head is gone. I have more energy and a clearer head. Not saying quitting weed is for everyone or that pot isn’t wonderful; I was just smoking way too much and too often and decided to lay off for a while.

Every once in a while I think of ditching it all and opening a record store. You know, quit my job, sell my kids for cash and set up a nice little store somewhere selling old punk rock vinyl and being more smug than a Nick Hornby character. And then I remember. I worked in a record store for a while. Why in the hell would I ever want to do that to myself again?

Time to gather ‘round the newsletter and tell everyone what we are thankful for. I’ll start. My close-knit, loving, accepting extended family, from my kids and sisters and parents to my cousins and aunts and uncles and close friends. My wonderful, adorable cats. Sunrises and sunsets that make the sky glow. Sugar free Popsicles. The tea bags from Chinese restaurants. Music in all its forms and genres and sounds. All the musicians, artists, writers, creators, whose works I consume with gusto.