Fuck you I love August
On going big and also, surrendering
It’s a big month around here. Talk Soon got a logo! I’m opening up paid subscriptions! I’m lovingly cursing at you in the subject line! It’s my birthday this week! My hair is getting bigger as I write this, as it does every August, a month I feel needs some defending.
August. In New York City, there are so many parking spots, especially on the weekends. I notice this, even though we haven’t had a car for years, the way people are gone. Today is the second real feel day in triple digits this week; escaping the city is the smart thing to do. To be clear, part of why my family is still in town is cash-flow related; I would gladly be in Maine or poolside or in Europe this month. But also, I confess, I like it, August, including the way humidity can feel like it’s crushing you. Pre-celiac diagnosis, during a week like this I’d be overcome with the urge to walk into a steaming pizza shop and getting a slice and a very cold peach Snapple, the flavor combination of my youth that beckons in August most of all. I can’t explain why when it got the hottest, I only wanted to be closer to ovens, but I will say I miss this experience more than the pizza itself.
About now, people will say (as if no one has said it before!) that August is the Sunday of the year. Well, what can I say, I love a Monday. I love the start of things, the way a transition slams together all that was and all that will be. August is a glutton’s month, really. Every time I check a tomato to see if it’s ready it falls off into my hand. My arms darken—not from vacations or pool visits but from two months spent living city life with the sun reflecting off the sidewalk, from simply getting from here to there. When my girls were younger and summers meant hours in the playground, you’d have thought I was slathering myself in baby oil on a yacht rather than SPF 70 and praying no one wanted to be in the sand pit that day. NYC summers are on you. August is a two showers a day month. Everyone has had too much sun and too much corn and too much of everything, is tired of humidity and the broken days, is tired. It’s high volume, the season of being over it while still in it.
Look, you can love a thing but not like it all the time.
I think people don’t like August because it’s so full in: on the cusp and at the peak and for that, a reminder of the end—all at once. When you know everything you said you’d do—all that gluttony of doing and visiting and changing and resting you’d maybe written on a list and certainly in your mind sometime in June—won’t get done. It’s hard to notice things, isn’t it? Even the good things.
But what if you surrendered? To the endless bug bites, the threat of thunderstorms that never come, the thigh chafe, the drone of the air conditioner that makes it impossible to hear the tv? Maybe you eat another ear of corn, a peach, or two or three a day because they might not be there the following week, not like this.
Subscriptions!
My birthday falls into this bold month, so I’m turning on paid subscriptions. Because what I want in my 44th year is what I want every year: more time to write. Simply put, this requires money. Even as people prefer to imagine artists hustling in the “off” hours —ha, what is this off hour? is it in August? —it’s not the best condition for creating work. So, if you can and are so inclined to help me devote more time and energy to my own work, please consider becoming a paid subscriber to Talk Soon.
The newsletter you’re reading now, the every 5 or so weeks one, will always be free, and the same as it ever was: news or non-news, book recs, calls for classes, my constant obsession with the passing of time. Subscriber-only emails will start in the fall; they’ll come via the same email, but be called See You Soon, and will be more about freezing time, and you’ll have to subscribe to get any more out of me than that.
Subscription Levels
Monthly: $5/month
extra newsletters, my gratitude
Annual Subscriptions: $50/year +1
the above + a transmission from me in your literal mailbox
Founding Members: $250/year
the above + one of the following:
30 minutes creative coaching (via phone, of course!). Think of creativity broadly; you don’t have to be a writer to use this!
personalized reading recommendations twice a year
Both of the perks at the $250 Founding level can be given as a gift to someone else in your stead, and you can also give subscriptions to others, too.
I cannot express enough how much any subscription means to me, whether or not it comes with money. I hope you’ll consider subscribing at whatever level you can.
Nice Big Things
Thanks to my pal and illustrator extraordinaire Brian Herrick this newsletter now has a logo. Brian was my first accountability buddy nearly 20 years ago (holy hell, Herrick!) when we met in San Francisco. Half of our text chain is cloud photos. His art at various scales is all over my house. A lifelong educator, he taught me to say Ratpants! instead of cursing in front of children, which still makes me laugh when I do. I’m so happy to have his work alongside mine every month. More about Brian and his work here and here.
Where to Find Me
Murdering spotted lantern flies, these fuckers are all over my neighborhood and it’s parks department’s orders!
Last week I spent an hour browsing the bookshelves at Three Lives & Co. Going to a bookstore with no agenda is fantastic. I left with Maggie O’Farrell’s INSTRUCTIONS FOR A HEAT WAVE and Francesca Manfredi’s THE EMPIRE OF DIRT, translated from the Italian by Ekin Oklap.
Shooting on film, again. Summer feels the time to do this more so than any other. I use The Darkroom for processing, and am currently using a Nikon FG I got as a gift a few birthdays ago.
Under a full moon for my birthday this weekend. Please send any good spells or birthday celebrating rituals in your life, under whatever moon.
Rooting for the two baby watermelons on my terrace. Fingernail for scale. The kale is thriving, the Black Eyed Susans are out of control, and the flowers are in bloom. That’s August for ya.
Talk Soon,
Danielle
You can sign up as a Founding Member for any amount above $50. You’ll get the perks of an annual member for any amount below $250.