it makes complete sense that you would worry about the caviar problem of subscribers. i see your funny little subscription notices and i think about subscribing for a second time under a pseudonym because i love your writing.
funnily enough, (i guess?) i had kind of a similar experience with your substack the other day. i left this comment that was fire, man. i was sure you would read it and be like who is this apparition of wisdom? spoiler alert.
you have me thinking today I should go somewhere where i put myself in an observatory-like position and do some observatorying.
it's probably really gauche is cringe to use the love word but what can i say. i obviously don't love you like because i know you. what i love is how you show up in your writing and how your improv skills are so present in your writing and how you put words together in a way that makes my little heart sing. what's not to love.
That's hilarious. I just wondered about that subscription number two. Had that for the first time and wonder if it is a mistake, or intentional why someone would subscribe twice. You've just given me the answer. Thank you!
Funny how we vacillate between "feelings are irrational and silly (lol--you dumb, silly, human flesh bag)" and then "FEELINGS ARE THE ONLY THINGS THAT OBJECTIVELY MATTER!" I think about this all the time when I'm with my kids. They absolutely melt down over things that are so far beneath my worry radar that it makes me laugh... at them... while they're crying. Like how, just yesterday, we had two yogurt pouches left in the refrigerator. One had a blue lid, and one had a red lid. Oldest kid took the yogurt with the blue lid, and this was an enormous offense, because younger kid loves the color blue (forget about the flavor difference). And this, ruined, his, day. And I was just so baffled by this that laughter spewed out of me. I didn't want to be laughing. I understand the optics. It's mean, right? But it just came out. Then I stopped myself and I reached, deep down, for some empathy, so that I could comfort him and help him through the moment he was having. I didn't scold him for worrying about something so insignificant and petty. I didn't shame him by comparing his problems with the concepts of wage stagnation and inflation, or the corruption of late stage capitalism, the disturbing re-emergence of Fascism, or even genocide (those are topics for next week). I saw the situation for what it was. At that moment, on that day of his life, getting a yogurt with an inferior colored cap was, by contrast, the most disappointing thing he was having to deal with, and it doesn't matter that this will soon be a totally forgettable experience. In that moment, he felt real things. He felt hurt, and sad, and angry, and powerless, and I was there to talk him through his feelings and eventually reassure him that everything was going to be okay. We're all just here, experiencing the highs and lows of life and feeling all the feelings along the way at different times for different reasons, no matter how silly they might be to someone else. And I think that's pretty cool.
I think we vacillate so much because we really have no clear instructions whatsoever for how to relate to our feelings. Like wtf are they? Meditation teaches us that they pass like clouds, etc — and they do! Sort of! They also don’t. I know ppl whose entire lives have been ruled by a feeling of betrayal, say, that just took up residence and never left. Others, similarly betrayed, process it, are fortified, and move on to a much more complex menu of feelings. Still, what are they? Those experiments whereby a plant (or apple) withers in an aura of human negativity point to something more than nothing, but still (maybe) less than everything.
I personally am coming to the conclusion that everything you (rightly, ha) withheld from pointing out to your kid — all the bad stuff — is downstream of severely misunderstood and mismanaged feelings, somewhere back in history.
That’s why, when I consider no longer paying for this particular newsletter bc there are a million ppl doing great work on issues I care deeply about — democracy, civic tech, foreign policy, etc — and I feel terrible reading without paying, I remember that I do truly value the way Alex roots himself in feeling (and, of course, humor — which I consider to be one of humanity’s most profound capacities).
In other words, a shitload of ppl out there are doing a lot of great thinking, but I do not think very many are doing a lot of great FEELING in a way that extends outwards and invites us into a shared experience (rage bait, the monochromatic feeling tone of the internet, does not fit this description; it tricks people into feeling connected, but really just seems to further isolate everyone from the good things in life, which is perfect for those who profit from that isolation).
Yes--Exactly! You kind of nailed it. I'm already flush with "information" and "data" and other cerebral things that constantly overwhelm me. It's coming at me from every direction, even in the spaces where I think I'm safe from it. But you're right--there is a lack of expressing *feelings* or exploring and working through those feelings. And when someone like Alex comes along and shows such a thorough ability to do that, I feel so much more human, and connected, and validated, and... just... "okay". I've often lit up (or melted) inside when reading something that someone else wrote after having the profound realization that they put something into words so perfectly and succinctly that I myself could feel and not express. Alex's whole catalog is *that* feeling.
Yes yes yes! I think people *feel* like their feelings are being addressed, but it's more like scratching a bug bite: feels like relief in the moment, but is actually inflaming and makes the itching twice as bad when you're done.
I totally agree with you re: the melting. What a perfect choice of words: it IS kind of like melting, becuase it allows us to emerge from the block of ice we sort of ensconce ourselves in as a (valid) means of protection.
Well, Alex, you should feel REALLY GOOD about this little conversation! Validation in spades! :) :) :)
"Something I’d written did not ‘do as well’ as I would have liked."
OK, I'll bite, for two reasons: (1) you're beating yourself up in public and that's MY job, Alex, and (2) damn you for holding a mirror up to my feeble and emaciated digital self-worth.
Thing is: I now reckon it's daft to be ashamed of caring this much. This is not a trivial thing we're doing, writing as we do. We are not half-assing this - at least not all the time - and we are not phoning our feelings in (see: your entire newsletter) and of course the inevitable consequence is that we're going to get deeply, alarmingly invested.
I want to think about some Victorian person beating themselves up in this way, because Victorians were humans and humans must have always done this. Let's say they're a carpenter who just sold a chair, and they're pouring scorn over themselves because they just spent a whole week making the chair-legs look super-nice, but because of doing that, they've lost a week of sales and in desperation had to sell the chair at a discount. (HISTORIANS AND ECONOMISTS, DO NOT WRITE IN. I KNOWN THIS ANALOGY IS A SHAMBLES.) So now they're all "OMG I sacrificed my Art for a quick £££, but also, I sacrificed my income because I spent a week messing around with chair-legs like a pretentious loser instead of treating my craft like an Actual Business, and will that lady who bought the chair give a flying shit? She will not. She will never, ever notice that extra week I put in. And yet this has ruined my month in literally every way, and I STILL wouldn't have done anything different. FML." And hopefully that person goes on to be Arthur Conan Doyle or someone famously rich like that, but maybe they just stay a carpenter who feels worthless because they got emotionally invested in something small like that - something that to them, isn't ever small.
I honestly don't think any of this stuff we do is subjectively small. Objectively, everything we do is indeed vanishingly small, but we don't live our lives objectively so to hell with comparisons. I think we're allowed to care so much it's occasional agony, and not feel ashamed about that? Just look at how seriously I've taken this reply that it's basically bloody endless. (Sorry.) But in writing my newsletters, such as they are, I don't want my feelings to get dulled, blunted and numbed about any of this. I might want to *manage* those feelings to stop being overwhelmed by them, but I still want everything that's available, because the alternative - Caring So Little That Nothing Can Hurt You - is the real thing to be worried about here. That's the true existential threat.
I don't know what this comment is about, but you'll be glad to know it's at an end now. Thanks for caring.
OK, caviar represents “aesthetic” on Maslow’s hierarchy. Above that is "self-actualization" and, at the top, “transcendence.” I usually think of air conditioning as “caviar,” but it’ll be 100 degrees here, today. We quibble because we can. Interestingly, I got to know a few transcendent people living on a dollar a day, above the caviar level, in the Marshall Islands.
I wandered over to Substack in a roundabout way, and soon became a bit of a fan. It was full of good writing and funny thoughtful people, and a lot of words were spent on marvelling how much better it was than social media with its Clickbait etc.
In the last three weeks I’ve read three Substack articles bemoaning the behaviour (or lack of) from readers and subscribers.
I guess everyone everywhere just wants to be liked. If I’m enjoying an article, I’ll “like” it, if I don’t, I’ll move on. Like reading a newspaper or a book. If the writer spends the whole article having a sook about engagement and subscribers, I’ll probably unsubscribe.
This was different. Just thought I’d mention it. Maybe it’s happening because of the season, or school, or election worry. Even chooks slow down egg production at times. Maybe a lack of engagement has nothing to do with you, but people are just busy?
Good point! Anecdotally, June has been the absolute busiest month of this entire year for myself and my family. Maybe Alex will see an uptick in July(?)
So, I LOVED that country-color post, and see now that I didn't even "like" it (now fixed).
Funnily enough, I happened across this post while I checked the app this morning, glumly noting my own recent post numbers that seemed not-good to me. So, this made me laugh, and feel less like of a loser. Overall, I'm 93% less madsad than when I started reading the piece. I wish Substack kept stats on that.
Thank you for your delightful pontifications, Alex. I'm quite certain my ridiculous "why can't I just be successful" thoughts would lay waste to an entire Victorian village at times. Christ. Somehow your admittance and by proxy my admittance lightens the load a bit. So, thank you for that!
I so feel the journey of my mind as I read your very entertaining post. Even the question about the sandwich still being good… which I have asked more than once as I drive from AZ or CO to CA… And last week I sent my weekly post that I knew was too long and yep, nobody seemed to be reading it…and a few days later… it was getting a bunch of likes… and I just tell myself—you might as well just have fun darlin’ and not give a shit about what anybody thinks ‘cause life is never doing what your mind imagines. Sometimes I have to tell myself that pretty often 😂 and I am getting better...
I was just done with my interview, which went pretty bad and I saw the email "well this is embarrassing" and I thought, yeah it is. I'm going to feel madsad for a while too.
You say out loud what many probably keep to themselves (including me) because it’s too embarrassing to reveal. Love your humorous perspective on the everyday life we all live.
I FEEL YOU. Until recently I had written Feed the Monster every month, no fail, for 6 years (three of those on Substack). I started a weekly adjunct, "Taking Note" this March and produced hand-painted posts for 12 weeks. Then, because I was working toward my journaling workshop in May, I got behind on the hand-painted posts. Then we traveled to Alberta (our neighbouring province) for my mother-in-law's memorial. Then I got Covid (for the first time). Now I'm behind on ALL the posts and can no longer call myself the most consistent person alive. I would conceivably get out to the studio and force myself to do something, but now I'm in Montreal... a trip that was planned a long time ago and about which I should NOT complain.
I remind myself that I'm "not Substack famous like Alex" and no-one is crying the blues that I haven't shown up in their inbox recently. They probably won't notice until I whine about it in my next post. But I get it. And I thank you for the reminder that there are more important things in life, like old couples sitting on fallen trees. You will rise again, Alex! And maybe I will, too. XOXOXO
Book rec: Want Your Self by Katie Horwitch (@katiehorwitch on here). I used to read “self-help” constantly but got tired of everyone spouting out supposed quick-fixes and how doing a specific thing will change your life (because what works for one person will work for everyone, right?). It is not like that…at all!
I went to a McDonald’s in Scotland for research purposes and they had FRIED MOZZARELLA BALLS
TREE GIRAFFE
alex, alex, alex, alex, alex, alex, alex, alex.
it makes complete sense that you would worry about the caviar problem of subscribers. i see your funny little subscription notices and i think about subscribing for a second time under a pseudonym because i love your writing.
funnily enough, (i guess?) i had kind of a similar experience with your substack the other day. i left this comment that was fire, man. i was sure you would read it and be like who is this apparition of wisdom? spoiler alert.
you have me thinking today I should go somewhere where i put myself in an observatory-like position and do some observatorying.
it's probably really gauche is cringe to use the love word but what can i say. i obviously don't love you like because i know you. what i love is how you show up in your writing and how your improv skills are so present in your writing and how you put words together in a way that makes my little heart sing. what's not to love.
That's hilarious. I just wondered about that subscription number two. Had that for the first time and wonder if it is a mistake, or intentional why someone would subscribe twice. You've just given me the answer. Thank you!
Funny how we vacillate between "feelings are irrational and silly (lol--you dumb, silly, human flesh bag)" and then "FEELINGS ARE THE ONLY THINGS THAT OBJECTIVELY MATTER!" I think about this all the time when I'm with my kids. They absolutely melt down over things that are so far beneath my worry radar that it makes me laugh... at them... while they're crying. Like how, just yesterday, we had two yogurt pouches left in the refrigerator. One had a blue lid, and one had a red lid. Oldest kid took the yogurt with the blue lid, and this was an enormous offense, because younger kid loves the color blue (forget about the flavor difference). And this, ruined, his, day. And I was just so baffled by this that laughter spewed out of me. I didn't want to be laughing. I understand the optics. It's mean, right? But it just came out. Then I stopped myself and I reached, deep down, for some empathy, so that I could comfort him and help him through the moment he was having. I didn't scold him for worrying about something so insignificant and petty. I didn't shame him by comparing his problems with the concepts of wage stagnation and inflation, or the corruption of late stage capitalism, the disturbing re-emergence of Fascism, or even genocide (those are topics for next week). I saw the situation for what it was. At that moment, on that day of his life, getting a yogurt with an inferior colored cap was, by contrast, the most disappointing thing he was having to deal with, and it doesn't matter that this will soon be a totally forgettable experience. In that moment, he felt real things. He felt hurt, and sad, and angry, and powerless, and I was there to talk him through his feelings and eventually reassure him that everything was going to be okay. We're all just here, experiencing the highs and lows of life and feeling all the feelings along the way at different times for different reasons, no matter how silly they might be to someone else. And I think that's pretty cool.
I think we vacillate so much because we really have no clear instructions whatsoever for how to relate to our feelings. Like wtf are they? Meditation teaches us that they pass like clouds, etc — and they do! Sort of! They also don’t. I know ppl whose entire lives have been ruled by a feeling of betrayal, say, that just took up residence and never left. Others, similarly betrayed, process it, are fortified, and move on to a much more complex menu of feelings. Still, what are they? Those experiments whereby a plant (or apple) withers in an aura of human negativity point to something more than nothing, but still (maybe) less than everything.
I personally am coming to the conclusion that everything you (rightly, ha) withheld from pointing out to your kid — all the bad stuff — is downstream of severely misunderstood and mismanaged feelings, somewhere back in history.
That’s why, when I consider no longer paying for this particular newsletter bc there are a million ppl doing great work on issues I care deeply about — democracy, civic tech, foreign policy, etc — and I feel terrible reading without paying, I remember that I do truly value the way Alex roots himself in feeling (and, of course, humor — which I consider to be one of humanity’s most profound capacities).
In other words, a shitload of ppl out there are doing a lot of great thinking, but I do not think very many are doing a lot of great FEELING in a way that extends outwards and invites us into a shared experience (rage bait, the monochromatic feeling tone of the internet, does not fit this description; it tricks people into feeling connected, but really just seems to further isolate everyone from the good things in life, which is perfect for those who profit from that isolation).
Yes--Exactly! You kind of nailed it. I'm already flush with "information" and "data" and other cerebral things that constantly overwhelm me. It's coming at me from every direction, even in the spaces where I think I'm safe from it. But you're right--there is a lack of expressing *feelings* or exploring and working through those feelings. And when someone like Alex comes along and shows such a thorough ability to do that, I feel so much more human, and connected, and validated, and... just... "okay". I've often lit up (or melted) inside when reading something that someone else wrote after having the profound realization that they put something into words so perfectly and succinctly that I myself could feel and not express. Alex's whole catalog is *that* feeling.
Yes yes yes! I think people *feel* like their feelings are being addressed, but it's more like scratching a bug bite: feels like relief in the moment, but is actually inflaming and makes the itching twice as bad when you're done.
I totally agree with you re: the melting. What a perfect choice of words: it IS kind of like melting, becuase it allows us to emerge from the block of ice we sort of ensconce ourselves in as a (valid) means of protection.
Well, Alex, you should feel REALLY GOOD about this little conversation! Validation in spades! :) :) :)
"Something I’d written did not ‘do as well’ as I would have liked."
OK, I'll bite, for two reasons: (1) you're beating yourself up in public and that's MY job, Alex, and (2) damn you for holding a mirror up to my feeble and emaciated digital self-worth.
Thing is: I now reckon it's daft to be ashamed of caring this much. This is not a trivial thing we're doing, writing as we do. We are not half-assing this - at least not all the time - and we are not phoning our feelings in (see: your entire newsletter) and of course the inevitable consequence is that we're going to get deeply, alarmingly invested.
I want to think about some Victorian person beating themselves up in this way, because Victorians were humans and humans must have always done this. Let's say they're a carpenter who just sold a chair, and they're pouring scorn over themselves because they just spent a whole week making the chair-legs look super-nice, but because of doing that, they've lost a week of sales and in desperation had to sell the chair at a discount. (HISTORIANS AND ECONOMISTS, DO NOT WRITE IN. I KNOWN THIS ANALOGY IS A SHAMBLES.) So now they're all "OMG I sacrificed my Art for a quick £££, but also, I sacrificed my income because I spent a week messing around with chair-legs like a pretentious loser instead of treating my craft like an Actual Business, and will that lady who bought the chair give a flying shit? She will not. She will never, ever notice that extra week I put in. And yet this has ruined my month in literally every way, and I STILL wouldn't have done anything different. FML." And hopefully that person goes on to be Arthur Conan Doyle or someone famously rich like that, but maybe they just stay a carpenter who feels worthless because they got emotionally invested in something small like that - something that to them, isn't ever small.
I honestly don't think any of this stuff we do is subjectively small. Objectively, everything we do is indeed vanishingly small, but we don't live our lives objectively so to hell with comparisons. I think we're allowed to care so much it's occasional agony, and not feel ashamed about that? Just look at how seriously I've taken this reply that it's basically bloody endless. (Sorry.) But in writing my newsletters, such as they are, I don't want my feelings to get dulled, blunted and numbed about any of this. I might want to *manage* those feelings to stop being overwhelmed by them, but I still want everything that's available, because the alternative - Caring So Little That Nothing Can Hurt You - is the real thing to be worried about here. That's the true existential threat.
I don't know what this comment is about, but you'll be glad to know it's at an end now. Thanks for caring.
OK, caviar represents “aesthetic” on Maslow’s hierarchy. Above that is "self-actualization" and, at the top, “transcendence.” I usually think of air conditioning as “caviar,” but it’ll be 100 degrees here, today. We quibble because we can. Interestingly, I got to know a few transcendent people living on a dollar a day, above the caviar level, in the Marshall Islands.
I walk 47 miles of barbed wire
I use a cobra-snake for a necktie
…
Who do you love?
(Bo Diddley)
I wandered over to Substack in a roundabout way, and soon became a bit of a fan. It was full of good writing and funny thoughtful people, and a lot of words were spent on marvelling how much better it was than social media with its Clickbait etc.
In the last three weeks I’ve read three Substack articles bemoaning the behaviour (or lack of) from readers and subscribers.
I guess everyone everywhere just wants to be liked. If I’m enjoying an article, I’ll “like” it, if I don’t, I’ll move on. Like reading a newspaper or a book. If the writer spends the whole article having a sook about engagement and subscribers, I’ll probably unsubscribe.
This was different. Just thought I’d mention it. Maybe it’s happening because of the season, or school, or election worry. Even chooks slow down egg production at times. Maybe a lack of engagement has nothing to do with you, but people are just busy?
Good point! Anecdotally, June has been the absolute busiest month of this entire year for myself and my family. Maybe Alex will see an uptick in July(?)
So, I LOVED that country-color post, and see now that I didn't even "like" it (now fixed).
Funnily enough, I happened across this post while I checked the app this morning, glumly noting my own recent post numbers that seemed not-good to me. So, this made me laugh, and feel less like of a loser. Overall, I'm 93% less madsad than when I started reading the piece. I wish Substack kept stats on that.
Thank you for your delightful pontifications, Alex. I'm quite certain my ridiculous "why can't I just be successful" thoughts would lay waste to an entire Victorian village at times. Christ. Somehow your admittance and by proxy my admittance lightens the load a bit. So, thank you for that!
I so feel the journey of my mind as I read your very entertaining post. Even the question about the sandwich still being good… which I have asked more than once as I drive from AZ or CO to CA… And last week I sent my weekly post that I knew was too long and yep, nobody seemed to be reading it…and a few days later… it was getting a bunch of likes… and I just tell myself—you might as well just have fun darlin’ and not give a shit about what anybody thinks ‘cause life is never doing what your mind imagines. Sometimes I have to tell myself that pretty often 😂 and I am getting better...
I was just done with my interview, which went pretty bad and I saw the email "well this is embarrassing" and I thought, yeah it is. I'm going to feel madsad for a while too.
Going to start using caviar problems in my lexicon ASAP.
Just wanted to mention that the father-color-country post was one of my favorite things I've read. Went to my "saved" folder.
You say out loud what many probably keep to themselves (including me) because it’s too embarrassing to reveal. Love your humorous perspective on the everyday life we all live.
I FEEL YOU. Until recently I had written Feed the Monster every month, no fail, for 6 years (three of those on Substack). I started a weekly adjunct, "Taking Note" this March and produced hand-painted posts for 12 weeks. Then, because I was working toward my journaling workshop in May, I got behind on the hand-painted posts. Then we traveled to Alberta (our neighbouring province) for my mother-in-law's memorial. Then I got Covid (for the first time). Now I'm behind on ALL the posts and can no longer call myself the most consistent person alive. I would conceivably get out to the studio and force myself to do something, but now I'm in Montreal... a trip that was planned a long time ago and about which I should NOT complain.
I remind myself that I'm "not Substack famous like Alex" and no-one is crying the blues that I haven't shown up in their inbox recently. They probably won't notice until I whine about it in my next post. But I get it. And I thank you for the reminder that there are more important things in life, like old couples sitting on fallen trees. You will rise again, Alex! And maybe I will, too. XOXOXO
Book rec: Want Your Self by Katie Horwitch (@katiehorwitch on here). I used to read “self-help” constantly but got tired of everyone spouting out supposed quick-fixes and how doing a specific thing will change your life (because what works for one person will work for everyone, right?). It is not like that…at all!
Huh?