(Peace y’all. I am apologizing once again for the late letter! I’ll have to start writing these early just so I get them out on time! SMH. But anyway, glad to be here. Thanks to everyone who have become paid subscribers since last week! I appreciate you greatly. And to everyone reading this WITH a paywall, feel free to subscribe for just $5 a month! You’ll receive one free letter every month with a free subscription, but paying for a subscription would give me the means to make this newsletter even better and provide you with all the new content I’ll continue to put out. As usual, if you are enjoying these letters or simply want to support, please hit the like/heart button that appears at the top and/or bottom of each letter. I hope you’re great!)
I spent this Sunday out a park in the city, and for some time just sat at an outdoor cafe and wrote in observation of my surroundings. Here are some of those observations —
“A pigeon approaches, close in vicinity to where I am seated in the park. Here they sit beneath my feet, picking at the mulch, lifting various objects, smelling and sampling them only to abandon them, then to make another lap in the hopes that someone, i.e. me, drops a piece of food to share in good faith. Little do they know I sit here lacking anything edible, all but my moleskin, a black micron pen, and my red Nalgene reusable water bottle spread out upon this fern green table. The table is rather good looking. Shaped like an hourglass, as if it had been cut in the middle and a flattened circle tabletop had been welded where there would have been a hole, I admire its appearance. I am sitting here, watching, writing. Not trying to draw conclusions, though I cannot help it.
The pigeon continues on its laps.”
“I wonder if I overlook the people in this city. So many faces pass me by, very few distinct. The most notable individuals of them all, more often than not, might simply be due to a bag, pair of shoes, or some article of clothing that catches the eye, but as time passes I find that attire and fashion sense do not speak to one’s personality as much as we like to believe. Some people might put on an outfit and become a completely different person. That is normal. In fact, that is what we actually mean when we say that clothes define you. They define you, for you, so you don’t have to. We create an idea of a person (and ourselves) based on an outfit, therefore, any person who puts on that outfit can inherit the traits that comes with its personality, (e.g. all black air forces). I am not free from this, I too am guilty of the Zelig like nature of personality that comes with clothing. I do wonder what would happen if we were all stripped of its characteristics however. If one was naked, completely naked, who would one truly be? That is a discussion for another time, however.”