A Custodian of Regular Feelings

ISSUE #145

I'm all wrung out. I’ve been so busy with life’s little nothings. Like many, I’ve discovered my trauma response—if only I could make something beautiful enough, I might end up loved and entirely free.

It feels so stupid to publish anything after what happened here Tuesday. I feel silly, writing my dinky words, but there’s some part of me that would crumple if I didn’t. I hate this urge to write—I’ve never missed a Friday of Earwyrms, other than my self-scheduled holiday breaks. To make right, I'm donating $5 for person who opens this email. I think I'll split donations between Red Canary Song and Stop AAPI Hate—you can click to join me, if you wish.

I was fast approaching my deadline with nothing good to say, but yesterday there came a saving grace—a friend asked for an emergency playlist anticipating a break up. He gave me a mission: songs to scream on the drive home. "Something angsty and bittersweet. Emotionally vindicating but also tragic." "But that's every one of my playlists," I thought. I had ninety songs within the hour.

We share what we're feeling so we work better together. Maybe you’re all wrung out as well. I know most of you well; you are all good people. They call it a bubble, but maybe we're a chain—sturdy little links that, when holding tightly together, could lift a car from the deepest river.