Happy New Year!!

a piece about why I am writing this piece (lol)

I was about to revisit some old posts from 2024 (WHAT!!), but then I decided to ramble here a bit first. Will I meander? will I navel gaze? Will I publish something for my very-unpopular blog that is unfit for human consumption? YESSS!!!

I got a snatch of someone critiquing the now-infamous CharliXCX blog post. She (critic) said that basically most Substackers write like Charli does–meandering, navel gazing, full of lazy, stream-of-consciousness sentences. She criticized Charli’s “abuse of the subordinate clause.” (Whatever the hell that means. Which means I am probably guilty). She also criticized Charli’s tendency to comma splice. (A most grievous error I am now intimate with given my SAT English tutoring).

I haven’t finished it–maybe she’ll go on to absolve Charli, and, by extension, all us plebs. I certainly hope so.

Is there merit in taking one’s time? In refining? in editing? in rearranging one’s syntax so that there are nonessential clauses nested like matryoshka dolls instead of god-awful long sentences (like this one) with no oases of punctuation upon which one can rest their weary eyes? Not a single : or ; or even an —? (ChatGPT vibes of em-dashes notwithstanding?)

Certainly, there is merit in revision. It is a service to the reader (and to the writer) to bewitch with succulent sentences, full of glistening words and twisting, musical syntax. It is the closest thing to magic to beguile the reader, to seduce them with perfectly-constructed, sometimes agonized sentences. You think

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

, not unlike Rome, was built in a day?

Okay, I jest a bit. But I do love that poem. And sometimes cutting words really does feel like “killing your darlings,” and isn’t there something noble in filicide??? (killing your children).

If I revised this piece, it’d be better. (favorite truism of the day). I even know what I should do. cut the exposition. Get to the point. Winnow down. Tumble sentences until they are so frictionless it’s the best s*x of your life. If I revised this piece I’d probably cut that metaphor, because my mom is the only one reading this!!! Sorry mom!!!

But I met a wise man today (who subscribed to my Substack!! eeeee!!) who, when I said that I used to publish shitty short fiction on the regular but now want to write longer, better things, opined that publishing short and somewhat shitty things (for one’s very unpopular blog) is better than nothing at all.

He really inspired me to write this post, but some other forces (fated words) conspired as well. A different wise man, a few days ago said that he used to write a “very unpopular blog,” and I found that so sweet and related so hard that the bar for me publishing something shitty suddenly felt very very low again, in the best way.

Then today I watched Blue Moon with my family. Heard of Rodgers and Hart? (Probably not). Hart was the lyricist who preceded Hammerstein in collaborating with composer Dick Rodgers. Less well known, but wrote some SERIOUS bangers–”My Funny Valentine” (one of my favorite songs ever) and “Blue Moon” of course.

The heart of the film is so touching. Here Hart is, seven months shy of his death, an alcoholic, over-the-hill in his career, egotistical. But his love of language, and his conviction in its power, its potential for immortality… it made me want to pick up the pen. Or click at the keys, as it were.

So I disabled the “melanopic”¹ light filter on my computer. Sleepiness? Even more gone. “Nightstorms” playlist on Sp*tify?² Locked and loaded. Brief excursion into a different substack post? Unavoidable.

I was aware as I read Charli’s piece that she was inconsistently capitalizing beginnings of sentences. That she did a few your–you’re mix-ups. (I take somewhat-shameful, wanton glee in noticing grammatical errors. What can I say? That English major cost a pretty penny!)

But, fuckit. It’s a New MF Year. I have an unpopular blog. But my mom reads it, and honestly? She’s my MVO (most valued opinion), and I love her so much, and I would write forever just for her.

But I wouldn’t, and don’t, write just for me. My diary? dry af!

I’m curious about what makes me want to publish. What inspires me about sharing, when my journal pages are so boring (half grocery lists, half platitudes encouraging me to get out of bed and find a purpose in life).

What differentiates the impulse to journal from the impulse to blog? For me, sharing always held greater allure. I am this way with many things. I am a born performer.

Or maybe, optimistically, I am a born COMMUNER. I want to commune with the world, with my fellow humans. That’s why I hated violin until I discovered chamber groups. I was never a soloist. I just couldn’t find the motivation. That’s why I wanted to learn guitar—not to wow people with solos, but to play a few shitty chords just well enough for sing-alongs.

So this’s my half-baked thesis or my multi-pronged, wantonly optimistic³ 2026 philosophy.

1. unrevised (shitty) and published is better than long and unpublished

2. clichéd thought, expressed is better than no thought, unexpressed (Charli and all of us have to write those ‘16-year-old-boy-smokes-weed-for-first-time-and-discovers-existentialism thinkpieces’ to get anywhere original)

I didn’t really make any New Year’s resolutions yet. I may. Honestly, today I ate a lot of delicious food, had some lovely conversations, took a mid-day nap, felt sorry for myself, cried a bit.

I’m afraid of resolutions. I’m afraid of failing myself for the millionth time.

But what if I stop failing myself this year? Tomorrow? What if I speak kindly to myself this year? Gentle parent myself? (I’m actually becoming less skeptical of that new-age nonsense!)

What if I fill my life with convicted action? What if I produce more than I consume, give more than I take?

What if I am filled with the Holy Spirit, until I can pour it onto others with abandon, without scarcity?

What if I find do the things that I know would bring me more purpose and energy? Like publishing more. Making video essays. Sharing them. Joining a chamber group. Throwing dinner parties with sing alongs. Standing and comedying. Sharing more of myself. Finding students and mentees. Or a different job that brings me peace and grounding. Farmed. Learned how to survive the apocalypse. Contemplated the mysteries. Ate Takis in bed (me rn irl fr.) Moved to Puerto Rico and colonized it for a month.⁴

What if I embraced entropy a little harder, as the cost of a life worth lived? By that, I mean expending more energy, becoming a bit more disordered (IDK I’m no physicist).

I do think that giving to others is the way out of depression (me along with Jordan B Peterson before his…unfortunate decline).

Thank you so much to the little nudges of encouragement my friends, and the Universe, have sent me to publish again on Substack. I remember each and every cajolement, with deep gratitude. (Sai, Eliot, Mom, Laurel, Kshitij, Brandon, and many more). It means the world and I can’t forget. This isn’t some pronouncement or new year’s resolution yet, because I’m too scared (for now) to do that. This is just gratitude for this one littlebig post. I love writing!!!! SO MUCH!!!! LLMs could never FATHOM this LOVE!!!! KEEP WRITING EVERYONE!!!

P.S. sorry this doesn’t have lots of AI-generated art to break up the text. That was a corny phase of mine that I will not be repeating. I apologize to the outer-ring suburbs whose aquifers I annihilated. I did not know. I will be donating 5billi NFTs. JK. gallows humor. ok bye

1. bet I taught you a word today!! it’s the orange-light filter that Rachel H (my friend) introduced me to

2. partial redaction for plausible deniability when, inevitably, participating in Sp*tify becomes a more guillotinable offense. (oh you mean Spitify? yea, very underground streaming platform!!!!! not involved in mass surveillance and drone strikes)

3. (to quote Zac Johnson, my friend)

4. Okay there’s loads more ideas, but I will save some for my private scribblings. I actually, at this late hour, am beginning to consider the reader and also that I have a zoom call in 7 hours and I should try to sleep