I'm tired.

Waking up is tiring, there is never enough sleep. Being awake is tiring, there is always so much to do. Thinking is tiring, there are always too many thoughts. The thinking is constant and I'm hoping for even one thought, just one really good thought to latch, to allow me to nourish it so that it might grow beyond me, might make it's way out into the world at large where it can come to mean vastly different things to all the different people.

Dishes are tiring, litter boxes are tiring, cats are tiring, applying makeup is tiring, getting dressed is tiring, applying to jobs is tiring, working is tiring, walking is tiring, podcasts are tiring. Too much time alone is tiring, too much time in social situations (especially the night ones) is so, so, so, so, so tiring.

I wear a t-shirt, usually once a week or so, that expresses this sentiment bluntly (but in cursive): "I'm Tired"

Every time I wear this shirt, it elicits a comment from at least one woman out in the wild. "Great shirt," they'll often say, and with those words comes the realization of their own bone deep exhaustion. Or sometimes a stranger will look at my shirt, then in my eyes and say something like: "Oof, yes." Usually in that scenario I have to scramble to remember what I'm wearing, but once I do, my new sister and I will share a knowing glance and then go on our separate ways. I wore this shirt to the No Kings rally in Los Feliz yesterday and it got even more compliments than my sign:

Because I'm tired, I'm going to step away from this newsletter for a month or two. This is my 20th dispatch since Not Quite Punk launched on Nov. 1, 2025. It's been a lifeline as it's kept my brain activated, engaged, and safely tethered to the best parts of the past life from which I was abruptly ejected. It's also gotten away from me a bit. As much as I enjoy the challenge of writing every week, even when there's not much to write about, the returns have been diminishing. I always produce something that I feel good about sharing, but it's been a while since I've written much of substance. I'll sit down to tackle one of the lofty ideas that's been rattling around my brain for ages, but when I try to get it out there I'm confronted again and again by the fact that I don't have enough time. Research is required, conclusions must be drawn, prose must be refined and it's 11 a.m. on a Friday, I just agreed to tack on a couple of extra walks for the dogs up the street, and this thing is supposed to be shipped before you wake up on Sunday morning.

Consistency is admirable, but time spent teasing out big ideas is better. I'm feeling ever so slightly energized by the thought of reporting back here with my findings.