Mere Being - 031 - May - a paid membership program

Readers–

I wrote about this briefly in the middle of the last issue, but now that I've got a little bit more of the backend nailed down, it deserves a real launch announcement:

I'm launching a paid membership program. If you like my work and you want to help me make more of it, please consider becoming a supporting member.

Directionally, you'll get three benefits from joining:

• Access to drafts, experiments, and behind-the-scenes stuff
• Discounts on books, prints, and other physical products
• A patronage relationship – you're helping to make more of my work more available for other people

Immediately, what that means is access to the original run of my "pop-up" newsletters. One of these newsletters, Point Lobos, is available in full on the paid members of this site now. Next I'll be putting Walking in Oakland, a series of short essays about California, photography, and pedestrianism. If you join before June 3rd, you'll get an e-mail every day as I post the new ones – pretty close to the original experience of the series.

Note that this is strictly an "unlocking the commons" type of membership program rather than a "premium paid posts" type of membership program. I don't intend to put anything I'm currently making behind a paywall, and in general members will get things early, not exclusively. This newsletter in particular will stay free!

If you're the right audience for this pitch at this point you will be asking, "Okay the old stuff was all fine and interesting, but what about drafts? If I'm unlocking the commons, what am I going to unlock?"

The main thing: Longer essays.

I'm working on one now that attempts to answer the question, "Why did I move to Minneapolis?" I'm up to twenty-four distinct answers, and that's before I start getting into the "And why did that matter?" sub-questions. I'm not sure exactly how long it's going to take to finish, because I'm not used to working at this length and scope, but let's say as an absolutely minimum goal that there will be a readable first draft available to members by the end of October, the one year anniversary of the move.

I'll also share an end-of-the-year "what it feels like / how it's going / how to do it" on running the membership program, but otherwise I'm going to do my best to avoid writing about the writing.

Anyway! If you've read this far I really appreciate you being here, whether it makes sense for you to become a paid member. I am happiest when I'm writing and I write more when I have some external motivation, so you're helping me out just by reading the e-mail.

On to your regularly scheduled issue of Mere Being.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches— who knew?

(Everyone. That's who knew.)

I've eaten probably uhhh... 30 Uncrustables sandwiches in the last month? At least? And most of them in the last two weeks?

The only thing remarkable about this is that until a few weeks ago I would have told you that I "don't like peanut butter," and could count the number of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I'd eaten in my entire life on one hand. If the number was even higher than zero. No allergy or anything, just didn't like them. I would tolerate almond butter. For an American, this is up there with "not liking chocolate" in terms of weird food preferences. (Non-Americans think "not liking peanut butter" is unremarkable, it's not nearly as much of a thing outside of the states.)

But: We were at the University of Minnesota Arboretum for our spring plant shopping, which is about a 40 minute drive from our house, I needed to eat something, they're reasonably macro-balanced, and more importantly: I have been slowing becoming obsessed with Uncrustables for the past two years. Like, even before I started eating them I would talk about them all the time.

See, professional football players love Uncrustables. The Athletic did a whole feature article on them which is one of my favorite essays of all time. In 2024 the team as a whole ate over 80,000 of them. The Denver Broncos that year ate 700 a week. I think and talk about this constantly, usually followed by, "It's really too bad I don't like peanut butter."

So: I was in a strange place, about to do a relatively demanding task, I needed to eat something, and lo: an Uncrustable. Seemed like the time to try it. Turns out they are great. That's the power of special interests, I guess.

I don't have a lot in common with football players, but one thing is: I like to eat the same things a lot. I don't have restricted eating preferences but I can have a hard time deciding what to eat (and whether to eat at all.) Routine helps, and shelf-or-freezer foods help a lot. So we got a couple of boxes and stuck them in the freezer, and I'm slowing working through all the different varieties. (Been eating the apple cinnamon ones for breakfast this week.)

The Sound of Summer

Speaking of special interests: My other fixation this month is wind chimes. We have a pretty big backyard here, we've been adding elements to it to make it as pleasant to spend time in while it's warm, and one of the things I got in my head was that I really wanted a wind chime.

I now have two: A classic multi-piped bamboo chime that we have on a shepherd's crook next to the house, and a single Japanese furin, a little glass bell with a single clapper attached to a paper streamer, hanging from an umbrella we have set in our outdoor table.

I expect to keep getting more until the neighbors make me stop.

1632

Still not quite done with The Tale of Genji and I took a break midway through the month to read 1632 which is, uh, the story of a West Virginia coal mining town that gets transported back in time to Germany in the middle of the 30 years war. It's— I can't say that as a book it is good. I was about a third of the way through the book before I encountered what I would consider a "good sentence." There's essentially no conflict in it. Over and over again the book will start to set up some problem and then, oops! Turns out it's just not really an issue and we don't have to worry about it.

That said: I found it very emotionally affecting, but not because of what actually happens in the book. Instead— the book was published in 2000, and it really shows in the straightforward optimism about Americanism, the value of diversity and immigration and the rule of law and unions and breaking down class divisions and so on. The book's thesis is basically, "Ordinary American union-member white men are great, because they treat people who aren't like them well, and this is a great achievement relative to how their ancestors behaved." I miss that particular brand of being proud to be an American— with isolationist, white supremacist strain so much more dominant these days.