Friends! Thank you so much for heeding my call and throwing your support behind this lil newsletter that could. The amount y’all pledged is almost enough to cover 1/3rd of one month’s rent in a non-bougie Brooklyn neighborhood. We will build this media empire brick by brick.
Thanks to y’all’s support, I felt high and fired up last week. I ignored the headlines about the media apocalypse and focused on the things in my control, like changing my underwear and peeling myself off the bed. Baby steps. You see, I’m not used to feeling fired up. If something seems difficult, I assume I can’t do it and move on. I’m not a gymnast. Why should I persevere? In the face of hardship, I prefer to cry and then quit. Perhaps due to my no-can-do attitude, I’ve never had much need for pump-up music like DJ Khaled’s “All I Do Is Win” or Refused’s “New Noise.” But everything changed during one of my breezy, mid-morning power walks—Yes, I am your mom.—last week. I started daydreaming about all the fun thin…
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