Back in the saddle
Oh, hi there. It's been a while. I was traveling, as we will discuss shortly, and then I was getting back into the swing of life post-traveling, which usually means dealing with the depression that comes from the realization that 95% of your life can't be spent drinking a 10am beer on a leisurely boat ride alongside the giant limestone karsts of Ha Long Bay, Vietnam.
To be honest, I got back nearly a month ago now, and still haven't been able to write you. I've tried! I've written literally thousands of words about my trip to Vietnam and Tokyo and then went through the whole, "Who but you cares?" thing and deleted most of them. I mean, what is there to say? It was an outrageously good trip with two of my best friends in the whole world, and 10 fast-paced days I'm sure I'll think about for the rest of my life. But why does that matter to you?
Like a dream, no one wants to hear about your vacation stories unless it: 1) is a really, truly insane tale, or 2) involves them. In other letters, I've been telling you about my trip last year to North Korea, which I have been led to believe falls in category #1 (please don't tell me if it's not a good story, I couldn't bear it). But this vacation isn't really an insane story, and, unless you are Ali or Nora, it almost certainly doesn't involve you. So, I'll spare you, except to say that, if you get the chance to spend a week gallivanting around Vietnam and then a weekend in Tokyo with your two best friends, you should take it. It'll be even better than you thought it would be.
So, let's look at this letter as a bit of a nothing-letter. No topic, nothing important to say, just a clearing of the pipes to get back on the horse or whatever mixed metaphors you want to go with. I might be quitting my job this week, which is probably something I shouldn't share in public, but I'm trusting you to not tell my boss. Stay tuned on that front, I guess.
I'll get out of your hair, now. It's getting late on a Tuesday, and no one likes a Tuesday afternoon email, even if it's from your dear old friend Danny. I promise to fight the complacency that always settles in around the holidays — why do work when you can get under a blanket and fire up the next episode of the Great British Bake-Off? — and to do more writing. I can't stop thinking about this interview with Alexander Chee and maybe I'll even put some of his practices into use. That's all just window dressing, though. I know the real way to write more is just to write more. But it's nice to lie to yourself and pretend like using this notebook in this way will make it all happen easier. We'll see.
I would like to say thank you to my dear friend Matt, though, for texting over the weekend, "Write something soon, I haven't seen you in my inbox in a while," which is just the sort of encouragement you have friends for. I hope this nothing-letter wasn't too disappointing, Matt. The next one will be better, maybe.
Danny Recommends!
I've been listening to the podcast Someone Knows Something, and I think you might enjoy it? It's Canadian, which is always a pleasant thing to be, and very well-made. The host, a Canadian journalist, spends each season investigating a cold case. So, not to spoil anything, but you shouldn't go into any season expecting resolution: these are decades-old cold cases for a reason. But they're slow, ponderous, and enthralling. He takes you on every step of the investigation, which means lots of delays and dead ends. It feels much more authentic than the typical investigative docu-series, precisely because there's very little shock. That said, the dude knows how to drop a cliffhanger, which makes each season completely bingeable.
I listened to the entire first season on the plane to Vietnam, and Justin and I listened to half of the second season driving back from upstate this weekend. "I'm going to put this on, but we can change it if you hate it," I said, and within the first five minutes, Justin said, "I'm so invested." There's something about the host's voice that's absurdly charming — it might just be the rural Ontario accent, more Irish than Canadian — but the most appealing aspect is how non-salacious it feels. There are 8,000 murder/investigation podcasts, and I listen to 7,000 of them, but it's starting to feel, like much of the rest of the world, like they're all in a race to the bottom. Who can be the most lurid, the most chilling, the most graphic. So the victims often get lost in all the scandal. But the host of SKS takes full use of his time to bring to life every character, so you remember they're actually people, missing their loved one all these years later. The interviews with family members can be incredibly difficult to sit through, but it never feels like he's using them in a gross way. I'd say it's worth listening to, but don't blame me when you wind up completely depressed. Happy holidays!
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