Weeknotes: Rarities & B-Sides, Vol. 1
Early in the week, I fell behind and never caught back up. That’s okay — it’s a busy time of year. In lieu of this week’s notes, I’ve assembled a small anthology of unpublished pieces from previously-abandoned weeks. There are a couple from 2024 which revisit both the Paris Olympics and the run-up to the election, as well as a post from a few months ago, just before school started. I’ve also added my contribution to an All Music feature in which my fellow pop editors and I discuss classic albums we wish we’d heard sooner. Lastly, there are a few stray observations from the past week. It’s nice to break format every now and then. Enjoy the odds and sods!
Weeknotes: September 8–12, 2025
Monday, September 8
Out my window a moving van crawls up the street delivering city-issued trash bins. Another large, unnecessary plastic object in my life. A crewman yanks a pair of them off the truck and rolls them my way. I run outside in my slippers to refuse (pun intended) one of them. Just because this address has two units doesn't mean we have space for two giant receptacles. And what do we do with our old, perfectly functional bin? It's a minor event that somehow sets a weird tone for the rest of the day.
I learn that an old friend from high school has died. She had been battling metastatic breast cancer for what seemed like an eternity, trying every experimental treatment available and enduring horrific pain while putting up a courageous public front. I've never seen anyone fight so hard just to live. Truly incredible. She entered hospice last week and I thought she'd have weeks instead of just days. You never know. Her husband is one of my oldest childhood friends, now a widower with six kids. It's going to be a rough road.
Weeknotes: June 23–27, 2025
Monday, June 23
It's a Field Notes field trip. Those who know me know of my love for this brand and their wondrous little notebooks which I carry with me everywhere I go. For years I've wanted to make a pilgrimage to their Chicago headquarters and today is my day. They are having an open house ahead of their “first, and likely only” film festival tonight at the Music Box Theatre and I've convinced Greg to join me on this road trip which kicked off yesterday at Wrigley Field. The Cubs lost in a 6-14 home run derby against Seattle. The heat was brutal, but it was a bucket list venue for both of us, as was the Sunday night jazz show at the Green Mill.
I open the Futura-branded black metal door at 401 Racine and am immediately greeted by owner Jim Coudal. I think I expected a brisker turnout of fellow Field Nuts, but am pleasantly surprised by the casual scene. After browsing some rarity editions, we hang out with Field Notes creator Aaron Draplin, a fellow Michigander now based in Portland, Oregon. I met him once before back in February when he did a demo at the Ann Arbor District Library. It turned out he was a Great Lakes Myth Society fan, so Greg and I present him with one of our dwindling vinyl copies of Compass Rose Bouquet. His mom, who lives not far from my own parents, is also there and we chat with her about politics and our favorite Northern Michigan spots. I also meet Bryan Bedell, a fellow music head and founder of the Vespa Club of Chicago, who is also one of Field Notes' designers. It's all so warm and convivial and I leave with an even greater affection for the company.
At the film festival later that night, they screen 31 of the short films they've made to launch their quarterly special editions. The room is lively and I feel at home among these like minded enthusiasts of esoterica. Aaron and Jim introduce the first set of films, many of which I've already seen as part of their newsletter announcements over the years. During intermission Bryan and filmmaker Steve Delahoyde crack jokes, then invite the 400+ attendees to join them at a nearby bar afterward. Having graciously enjoyed some facetime with them earlier, we decline and have a low-key nightcap at the Gman Tavern a few blocks east.
Weeknotes: May 19–24, 2025
Monday, May 19
I reach for the clutch, but it's not there. I'm back in my automatic Hyundai. I had just gotten used to driving a manual transmission again and forgot how much I enjoyed it. I've scheduled a buffer day to recover from my vacation. I'll log in to work tomorrow, but today is for catching up on personal affairs.
I feel the rejuvenation that good travel brings. I'm happier with a more optimistic outlook and a heightened creative fervor I haven't felt all year. I hope I can make it last. When I got home yesterday afternoon my neighbor had mowed my lawn. If you are lucky enough to live next to good people, your life will be infinitely easier. My morning glory seedlings survived, but I missed the rest of the purple irises and most of the lilies of the valley. The giant pink irises are in full bloom, though, and the peonies are getting close.
I drive my brother and his girlfriend to the airport, returning the favor he did for me last week. They're off to Maine for a week of birds, lighthouses, and coastal wandering.
Weeknotes: February 10–14, 2025
Weeknotes: January 13–17, 2025
Monday January 13
My limbs trundle reluctantly up the hill past the south edge of campus, the wind biting my bare face. The first half mile is accomplished by will alone, but it gets better. I gauge my footfalls gingerly over the ice patches and head down the ginnel that connects College Place with Pearl. By the time I cross onto Spring Street, my body feels relaxed and lithe. At Waterworks Park a woman stands over the hood of her blue minivan arranging loaves of supermarket bread to feed to the assemblage of ducks and geese closing in around her.
I think of my mom, a lifetime nurturer of urban waterfowl populations. I picture her tiny figure holding up a bag of hamburger buns to feed the squawking gulls. For a brief time she and I kept up a Christmas Eve tradition of emptying a large bag of cracked corn on the grass by the Brighton Mill Pond, a gift to the cold feathered peasantry. Even now when I go to visit my parents, she is constantly managing a half dozen feeding stations. Just yesterday I caught her scattering seed on the front porch for her favorite possum and then on a metal table out behind the kitchen for her resident doves. She loves her doves. My parents have always had big hearts for wild things.
Weeknotes: October 14–18, 2024
Monday, October 14
I feel behind on pumpkin-acquisition and other fall imperatives. Where are my decorative corn stalks and knobbly gourds? I still have hanging ferns and a potted geranium on the porch. It's going to be November in a couple weeks and I'll be removing the screens and cleaning the windows, one of my favorite pre-winter rituals, usually done after daylight savings ends.
Lunchtime is a failure. For the second day in a row I drive out to Liberty Station to check my P.O. box and do a quick photo shoot, and for the second day in a row I find the lobby closed, this time for Columbus Day. Since I'm downtown, I hit up two different running stores to try and replace my worn out shoes, but don't find what I want. It's a waste of a trip. I console myself with a new $3 gel pen from Literati's pen bar, then head back to Ypsilanti.
Weeknotes: July 8–12, 2024
Monday, July 8
In my dream I'm exploring a vast art deco hotel. It's mostly empty, either abandoned or in the offseason. Crates of interesting goods are stacked haphazardly around a casino-like room and behind the ornate bar I notice a beat-up cardboard box advertising a Casio keyboard model I've never seen before. What I pull out of it ends up being a gig bag containing an ornate handmade bouzouki, or maybe a cittern. Its strings are strangely paired with the middle ones in overstuffed clusters of three or four, all tuned in unison rather than octaves. I also notice the wood has rotted around the soundhole and on the back. A shame, as it's a beautifully designed instrument. I decide not to steal it.
I spend some time with Pretzel, my neighbor's three-legged cat, for whom I'm caring this week. He has barfed on his white couch blanket every day and every day I carry it down to the laundry room and re-wash it. I listen to Jake Xerxes Fussell's new album as I drive to Dexter to meet up with my cousins one last time before they depart to their respective homes in Pennsylvania and Florida. After dinner we visit our grandparents' grave where last summer we also laid some of their mom's ashes in a spontaneous little family ceremony. Then it's hugs all around and off we go into the furnace of a July evening. I put on some Hawaiian slack key music and keep all the windows down even on the highway.
Weeknotes: February 5–9, 2024
I’m new to the concept of weeknotes. Here’s how I found out. In December Field Notes, the Chicago notebook company that I use religiously, posted on their Instagram account about getting a mention in Russell Davies' book Do Interesting: Notice. Collect. Share. I had never heard of Davies or the U.K.-based Do Books series, but I bought it and loved it. I mean, I really loved it. It inspired me to start this blog. Davies mentions weeknotes as a type of journaling meant to reflect on and break down the events of the work week. From there I found the wonderful English blog Walknotes from a South London resident who documents their daily commute. I find Walknotes deeply charming . An old school barebones Wordpress blog with no visual frills, just great writing. I’ve become a subscriber and look forward to it every Saturday morning in my inbox. Since I already journal and love capturing small details I thought I’d try my own version of the weeknotes format.