life goal: infamous recluse
With the assistance of some careful time management tools (otherwise known as "a polygonal box I spent 20 minutes cutting out and coloring with highlighters"), I have found myself back on track with this issue of the magazine. It's astonishing the things you can trick your own mind into doing.
Because time is a lie on even the best of occasions, last week unfortunately did not have an issue. As such, naturally today's issue is late.
A day isn't really finished until you go to sleep -- I'm pretty sure that's true. To that end, this is clearly still a Friday zine. Hooray.
It's a challenge to come up with a newsletter that manages to talk about neither my business (I have a blog and a twitter for that) nor the mess of the year surrounding us all. I always feel better when I've done so, though, like pushing my way through a sequence of stretches, or the evening after a very long walk. Moving my brain to discuss the very minor moments that make a year is, I'm coming to find, very much worth the trouble.
Would it be fair to say that I forgot to write this issue? Both fair and accurate! Time is strange and uncomfortable, unfortunately linear in ways that I sometimes don't measure well, and apparently today is Friday.
I am returned from my vacation -- slightly refreshed, but with the curious weight of reentering the normal world (for various definitions of "normal").
It's difficult for me to find focus when I'm in my own home -- I'm used to going out and locking myself into various locations until I've completed the work that needs doing. I wouldn't say that my writing is suffering, precisely, but it's more difficult than I'd like to get to a moment of mental equilibrium that allows the inner voice to whisper words.
In my everyday writing, I am considerably looser than I am here. I use more contractions. I am more likely to use slang and netspeak. I am a fiend for all-caps, and I regret no gifs.
The more I think about it, the more I wish there was a Letters section in this. From the old Regency/Victorian magazines that I stole this format from, to the loose piles of old apazines that my mother collected in big cardboard boxes and were never put away after the final move to my childhood home, letters have been a fascinating gateway into the minds of not just the zine's staff or author, but the entire community surrounding it.
Katherine Crighton 