A list of things for June 2024

Portion of a silhouetted bench facing a sunny lake horizon, the frame edged with green tree leaves

Hey, only half a month late this time. I'm improving. Apologies for missing May's edition entirely—I was in the thick of moving, which is an inherently awful process and, while nothing went terribly wrong, it was, inherently, awful. I am still settling into my new place and likely will be for a while yet. It's better to get something out in the world rather than nothing at all. And so in that spirit, here is a late, slightly small, collection of things from last month.


  1. On my website, I posted a round-up of the links, books, movies, and television shows I've been putting my eyes on lately: Recently 27 June.
  2. Lots of stuff on the Quiet Little Horrors front. We released four episodes over the past two months, all about films on the topic of doppelgangers: Black Swan, Vertigo, Us, and The Man Who Haunted Himself. It's also a festive occasion, because the end of June marks the fourth anniversary of this little horror film podcast. Jessi and I started it as a hobby in the summer of 2020 and it's still fun enough to keep doing as a hobby. We've released 80 episodes and covered 84 different movies. Our most downloaded episode is the first one on The Witch, which is unsurprising, but I was pleased to discover the second most downloaded episode is one of my favorites, on Picnic at Hanging Rock. Thanks to those to have been listening. 🖤
  3. Quick note that if you're into Quiet Little Horrors, I keep a Letterboxd list of all the films QLH has covered and usually a sneak preview of the films coming up on future episodes.
  4. I recently moved to the Rogers Park neighborhood of Chicago and, by coincidence, I also recently read a biography of photographer Vivian Maier, who spent the last years of her life living in Rogers Park. When trying to track down the specific bench at the edge of Lake Michigan where she habitually sat, I came across this poem I like very much: "Vivian Maier Considers Heaven from a Bench in Rogers Beach Park Chicago."
  5. "Our humanness is not given to us. Instead, it requires our participation in its construction and realisation, which often comes about through collapse or calamity. We rummage through the chaos of our inner worlds, through our multitude of selves, to discover what we are, what we wish to be, and our authentic relationship with the world. This process requires a kind of winnowing of those selves and the dispensing of any that are no longer of service to the work of becoming fully human." Nick Cave.

I'm finding myself spending less and less time on social media these days, but when I am, I'm over at Bluesky. If you enjoy the newsletter, please feel free to spread the word wherever you hang out. As always, you can reach me by email, should you wish to do such a thing, at [email protected].

Thank you for reading! I'm grateful for you. 🖤