In the Year of our Lord of Covid: Issue #0 Hi.
Hi.
It's been 13 months since my last missive. I've been told people miss my writing and I miss the fawning so here we are. One of my Kate friends (HI KATE!) has a great newsletter she launched in April about how she's, well, coping with the new reality. I plowed through her back catalog last night and realised enough is enough, I had to get writing again. Kate's newsletter is published twice a week and they're chunks of her thoughts and things of what she (and by extension her boyfriend) are doing to keep sane. It's really good; go subscribe.
Another Kate friend, one of my top three BFFs, has expressed concern for awhile now over my activities online. (I am not a fan of her logic and reason.) I am an assertive person normally but that assertiveness has become aggression often blurring into rage. TEH, Kristin, and Steph have noticed this as well. My current methods of cooling the beast are clearly not working but writing was always an outlet that helped channel my demons, so here we are.
I wish I could tell you the reason why I stopped writing. This thought is dragging around in my brain like a child with a stuffed toy. I convinced myself I was not good enough, if I ever was, other people wrote better than I did, I had no expertise in topics, no passions to extol about, no time, I was too old, and no interest. Rationally I knew enough people have told me otherwise through the years but apparently I would rather sit on the couch mentally beating myself up rather than actually do the thing. So here we are.
In the past I have made promises of time and topics only have to them curve way out of line. No new promises to entice you, it'll just be me, here, thinking deep thoughts and trying to shoo away the constant thoughts of kicking people in the taint. (I am tall and have long legs so social distancing would still be observed.)
Kate the newsletter writer writes schedule seems like a lot to me right now, but I can commit to once a week on Wednesdays. That seems doable.
I'll end this preamble with a few links.
NPR reports the medieval images in articles representing the Black Death, as an allegory for COVID, really aren't contemporary accounts of the Black Death but another medieval killer, leprosy. (My header images has been vetted to actually be about the Black Death.)
One of my top bands, Doves, is releasing their first album in 11 years on 9/11. I, of course, pre-ordered the whiz bag most biggest package. The band has released two singles so far, Prisoners and Carousels, which are both really fucking amazing. The band also put together a "complete" playlist if you want to dive deeper. You would like them if: you're into British indie rock, mainly post-Britpop. Similar band would be Verve, elbow (another top band), The Charlatans, Super Furry Animals, Idlewild, and Ash.
Since it's perfect timing of a release in late March, I've played 810 hours of Animal Crossing. No regrets. Let's be friends: SW-5426-4089-9209
We're currently obsessed with watching Peaky Blinders. S1-5 are on Netflix.
I love you.
Wear a damned mask.
You've just finished reading A Most Unreliable Narrator, the spill-your-guts newsletter by Lisa Rabey. You can find me on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook if you're so inclined. If you dig this, pass me on to a friend! Comments? Questions? Want to say "Hi!"? Just hit reply and send me a note!
Image: Unknown artist depicting the black death in a book
by French chronicler and poet, Gilles Li Muisis (1272 - 1352).