Mum says I have to write something uplifting this week.
I tell her that the funniest thing that’s happened recently is when we saw that man drive off with a 60th birthday cake on the top of his car and we watched the cake fly off and splatter across the road.
Yes, she says. I was surprised you didn’t write about that.
Funny has taken on a relative quality.
I say, It's hard to find things to write about when I'm not allowed to engage with people.
And Mum says, I'm all the engagement you need.
She has just entered the kitchen holding an armful of potatoes and three carrots. As we talk she drops one of the carrots and when she bends down to pick it up, she drops the second and when she picks that one up, she drops the third.
And, in spite of everything - or maybe because of everything - it is very funny.
I promise this isn't productivity, but I am v e r y s l o w l y uploading old (non-embarrassing) editions of this newsletter to an online archive on my website. And this week I reread the 7th ever ICP which was sent just after Trump got elected (hi to the approx five people who subscribed back then!). In that email I wrote a list of the small things that gave me joy, even in troubled times. And I said I was writing the list for myself and for you, in case "the future of everything is getting you down". Now seems like a good time to revisit that list.
The history of loneliness.
Our new reality has endorsed Bernie Sanders.
How Kinfolk defined the millennial aesthetic and unraveled behind the scenes.
"The sane response is to prepare to be forever changed."
The rich fled New York - don't be like them because this isn't your vacation.
Even Nick Cave thinks now might be the time to down tools.
Filling a suddenly empty schedule.
Why it matters that the NHS was already being run too hot.
Unskilled labour does not exist.
Embrace the grays.
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PS Order! Toby. Inefficient. Freedom!