Hello, sharks. Thank you again for your patience as I emerge from my post-move monastic lifestyle. I finally unpacked my bathroom.
First order of business: I’m teaching another section of DON’T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB: Creativity When Life Gets in the Way. It’s a single-session class in which we’ll explore the strategies I used to write my book while juggling a day job, a freelance career, and a big, oily pile of Life Stuff. Reviewing the curriculum has been a good first step toward reigniting my own creative spark after a long hiatus. Maybe it’ll work for you, too?
In lieu of any real creative reflection (see earlier note on monastic lifestyle), I’m using this week’s newsletter to wax poetic about four things I am really loving right now.
Behold, an extended edition of YEAH, BABY, YEAH!, my semi-regular email roundup of little treats.
Here’s what I love this week:
Strapping shit to the top of my car: If you haven’t heard from me in a few hours, it’s because I’m very busy strapping some shit to the top of my car. It started when I needed to transport an awkwardly-shaped antique table that was about a half-inch too wide to cram into my hatchback. Grumbling, I went to Lowe’s and found the team member who looked most like someone’s rotten dad. “NEED TO STRAP ITEM TO MY CAR,” I bellowed at the rotten dad, who silently pointed me to a $35 pair of neon-green ratchet straps. Huge mistake, rotten dad: I’m now obsessed with strapping shit to my car. Last weekend, I gave in to the siren song of a free, barely-used mattress and dragged Sean into the West Village to pick it up. We strapped that sucker down in about 90 seconds flat and hauled her back to Brooklyn. On our way back across the Manhattan Bridge, I spotted Lady Liberty. I sighed, overcome with romanticism. “We can do anything we want here,” I crooned. “Anything in the entire world.” I look over to see Sean with both arms out the window, eyes bulging with the effort of keeping the mattress from flying into the air, taking my stupid 90-pound car with it. “WE’VE GOT LIFT,” he cried. “LIFT!!!!!!!”
Hot and fresh new pizza cookbook: I am a ferocious fan of Crust Fund Pizza, a covert charitable pizza operation that runs out of a residential alley in Chicago. Crust Fund proprietor John Carruthers is just the nicest guy, and he’s about to debut Super Pizza World, his second pizza cookbook. To get the book, you gotta pledge on Kickstarter—and, folks, it’s worth it. Not just because I got to write a bunch of fake ads that appear throughout the text.
My vintage L.L. Bean chore coat: I’ve had a weird relationship with fashion since I was eight years old, rocking a wardrobe made up entirely of Hanes banded sweatpants for men. I have two problems with clothes: First, it is very important that I experience perfect comfort at all times; second, I waffle between the thrill of quirky accessorizing and the agony of hating how clothes look on my body, which is stocky and weird, as bodies go. Now, forgive me the total cliche, but I’m feeling a renewed interest in fashion after a few weeks of riding the subway into midtown Manhattan and quietly observing how New Yorkers dress. I’m not seeing a lot of restrictive silhouettes; I’m seeing billowy one-piece garments and elegantly curved barrel-leg jeans and chunky shoes. I’m applying this ethos—one of comfort and play—to my own office outfits, and I’m enjoying getting dressed more than I have in years. Enter my favorite purchase of 2024: a vintage L.L. Bean chore coat I scored on eBay for, like, 40 bucks. Friends, consider this your permission to eschew the $400 Alex Mill barn jackets. eBay has all the outerwear a commuter could ever need. I stepped out in mine today, even though it’s supposed to reach a high of 85 degrees. I’m typing this blurb in an iPhone note on the subway platform, and I cannot detect even a hint of autumn breeze beneath the jacket’s heavy canvas. I am sweating violently. I’m wearing a pair of giant, Shrek-colored clogs from Lisa Says Gah. My feet keep squelchin’. I look tremendous. (Also: I really loved this piece from legendary fashion critic Cathy Horyn. “Your style ain’t dick” is so funny.)
Getting up and peeing at the office every 10 minutes: I commute to the TIME office a few times a week, and I don’t know if I’m actually peeing more than usual or if it’s just more noticeable because I have to strut across the entire office past seasoned reporters to get the bathroom, but I am peeing in a way that some would describe as athletic. I am peeing constantly. I mean, I drink a lot of water. I have a 40-ounce Owala that my therapist called “pretty gay,” which, yeah. I am also blasting through the office supply of loose-leaf teas. Drink tea, pee. Drink tea, pee. Peeing is my primary interest at this time.
anyway,
Lil
Oh wow, my Dad had that EXACT chore coat. The very same. Let me know if you get a sudden urge to let a jumpy eight-year-old use a bandsaw solo to make a Pinewood Derby car, or if that was just Dad.
This post made me immediately want to strap shit to the top of my car…what have I been doing with my life?!