Weeknotes: January 12–16, 2026

Monday, January 12

Winter semester starts bright and clear. On WCBN, the DJ is playing a block of Bowie tunes — "Cat People (Putting Out Fire)," "Look Back in Anger," "Heroes." Great Lakes Myth Society recorded a cover of "Look Back in Anger" many years ago with our friend Stirling, but it was never released. It was produced by Mike E. Clark of Insane Clown Posse fame.

I feel anxious about so many things lately, but today I'm nervous about the amount of work I'm taking on. Career, school, gigs, recording projects, this blog. I've been able to maintain it all well enough over the past two years, but the classes are getting more advanced and I'm not good at removing tasks from my life. I only ever seem to add more. There's a lot of winter left — I have to make sure it's not a joyless slog.

I pull into a parking spot behind a silver sedan whose license plate frame reads "I'm Speeding Because I Have to Poop."

Tuesday, January 13

Yesterday's fear is realized — the day is a joyless slog from start to finish. Rather than saving the worst for last, I've decided to knock out my math requirement this semester and get it over with. The course is entirely online, using unfamiliar programs I have to quickly learn for a subject I despise. 

I'm up early to complete my company's annual self-assessment, then immediately transition from corporate jargon to converting fractions. It's my nightmare. I know I'll find my rhythm with the new schedule, but today it just feels overwhelming. 

Wednesday, January 14

The snowstorm is a mystery. No one seems to have known it was coming, and yet, on it goes into the night. To me, it’s a gift — a bit of joy when I could really use some. I put on my favorite woolens and head out on foot. The river's blackness is an alluring balm and I pause to enjoy its vibrations. Ahead of me, the Depot Town parking lot yawns, untouched, a white welcome mat. I pioneer my way through it. To my left, the old stationary caboose, mounted on its plinth, emanates an eerie green light. I buy a six of dark beer from the co-op and walk the remaining block to Greg's house to work on some mixes.

It's still snowing three hours later as I cut down Photo Street, then through the alley past the steamed-up windows of Wax Bar. I'm already past the entrance when I hear a muffled "Tim Monger!" I double back and open the door to say hello to Andy's friendly face. There are maybe five patrons inside. I resist the urge to have a nightcap and make tracks home through Frog Island.

Thursday, January 15

It's 9 AM and I'm getting my teeth cleaned. The hygienist and I are trying to have a conversation about adventure travel and appreciating winter, but it's hard because her hands are in my mouth. On my way home I stop by K's to deliver a miniature camping tent to Mr. Mr., her little gray foster kitten. I had hoped Esteban might take to it, but, being a cat, he does the opposite of anything I want him to. Mr. Mr., however, takes it in his stride, claiming the tent within 30 seconds of my arrival. I stay for a coffee and to marinate in his free spirit. He's battled a funky eye infection for most of his short life and has feline leukemia — he will need a special home.

My evening gig is sparsely attended, but I don't mind. Singing feels good right now. I love a showcase venue, but sometimes I also love having a couple hours at a pub to just run through my songs, whether or not anyone's listening. Low stakes, but a satisfying workout. Kind of like a long run.

Friday, January 16

It's K's 50th birthday. We message back and forth for a while and I send her a playlist I made of songs from her birth year — Ramones, Wings, Nick Lowe, the Runaways, Joni Mitchell. She is flying to New York to see Cate le Bon tonight and I'm going to Detroit with my friend Chuck to see Modern Nature. 

Midday, I find an unexpected gift on my porch. It's a shipment of two books — Josef Albers' Interaction of Color and Fritz Horstman's companion volume, Interacting with Color: A Practical Guide to Josef Albers's Color Experiments. They are from my friend Marty who works for Yale University Press, publisher of both books. I referenced Albers' Homage to a Square last month in my daily announcements for the Advent Photo Project. 

Later, in Detroit, my mind is soothed by Modern Nature's patient, pastoral indie rock. They're on tour from the U.K., supporting their mercurial 2025 record, The Heat Warps. I appreciate their mix of precision and nuance — they play like a jazz combo, quiet and reactive. They sound amazing. At some point during their set, I get a little melancholy and wonder why I'm doing so many things other than playing my guitar. I just want to be in a band and write music.