Goodbye 8036
Throughout her life, my mom has made a lifelong habit of correspondence — thank you notes, birthday cards, holiday cards, messages of sympathy, congratulations, or simply to say "I was thinking of you." I inherited this trait from her. I love sending and receiving mail. I always have stamps on hand and a box of notes ready for any occasion.
I began renting P.O. Box 8036 at Liberty Station in the summer of 1999. It's located in the vestibule of a downtown federal building that opened in 1977, the year I was born. At the time, my band was about to release our first album and we needed a business address to serve our administrative needs. Eventually that band ran its course, as did its predecessor, though we continued to list 8036 on subsequent legal documents. Over time, it became the de facto address for all my various enterprises: the Original Brothers and Sisters of Love, No Bitings Records, Great Lakes Myth Society, Northern Detective, Timothy Monger State Park.
Weeknotes: January 26–29, 2026
Monday, January 26 - Thursday, January 29
I walk the frozen city through trails that telegraph its residents' means and desires. The clean, sharp-edged channels of business who can afford a plow service terminate in white berms at property lines. Their residential equivalents usually extend the length of the block in neighborly harmony. Elsewhere, tidy lanes shoveled by hand taper into rough footpaths, then open back up again. You can identify the fastidious digger by the amount of cement showing underneath — they've been out more than once. The latecomers and reluctant shovelers' paths are lumpier, but at least they made an effort. All of it is stitched together in a patchwork of cooperation and need.
Weeknotes: January 19–23, 2026
Monday, January 19
I dream intensely, though when I wake, I can't remember any details. While the dark recedes, I stand with my coffee at the window, watching a snow squall whip down the street. Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day — no work or school, though I end up devoting time to both.
In the afternoon, I drive into town to buy ink cartridges for my printer. Arctic winds shoulder my little car as I try to stay in my lane amid the blowing snow. Minutes later, sunlight pierces my dirty windshield — it's a day of extremes.
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."
Weeknotes: January 5–9, 2026
Monday, January 5
Driving west on Cross Street, there is a police barricade just past the Domino's Pizza. Typical Ypsi drama, I think, and detour around it. At the vacuum cleaner store I present two of my kitchen knives for sharpening. Why is that a combo — vacuums and knives? The woman in front of me is having a new motor installed in her KitchenAid mixer. I guess they do a little bit of everything.
I need to drum up a some cash for next week, so I spend the next hour Door Dashing. At La Marqueza Taqueria, Jodi B's order isn't ready yet, so I wait on a stool and listen to a young AT&T salesman make an awkward business pitch to the cashier. I get the sense that everyone in the room — even the salesman — is just waiting for it to be over. Despite the lateness of her order, I get a small tip from Jodi.
At home, I pull out the red plastic milk crate that holds all my percussion toys. I lay down shaker, maraca, tambourine, and vibraslap parts, but when I listen back, I realize I've accidentally left the monitors on — there's a ton of bleed and I have to track them all again. Meanwhile, my phone is blowing up. Behind that police barricade on Cross, a man with a sword is holed up inside his house after a neighborly dispute. When officers first arrived at the scene, he brandished his weapon at them. The standoff has now exceeded 20 hours. Typical Ypsi drama.
Weeknotes: December 29, 2025–January 2, 2026
Monday, December 29 – Friday, January 2
Silver days and cozy nights. The illness that tugged at my throat just before Christmas reached its crescendo on Sunday, then persisted to a lesser degree through the new year. It ran parallel to a week of dazzling snowstorms, reminding me of childhood winters, sledding hills, and runny noses. I always seemed to have a cold during the holiday break. I even spent a night in my boyhood bedroom, house-sitting for my parents, re-examining my hometown, and hiking snowy segments of the Penosha Trail. I bushwacked my way to the reedy edge of Deidrich Lake, frozen over like I remembered it, though not enough for skating. The next morning I stood on the high ridge above Mt. Suicide, a classic thinking spot from my earnest teenage years.
New Year's Eve, stepping from the ambient glow of Andy's bar into the December hush to find the Frog Island pathway draped in a mat of virgin snow. That's how you start a new year — you make your mark on a blank page. My footprints mirrored the river then crossed over it at my favorite bridge. At home I hugged my pets and said good riddance to a year of tumult and chaos.
Forest Avenue Bridge: 2025
There’s a white mark — possibly the residual adhesive from an old sticker — atop the metal rail of the Forest Avenue Bridge. It’s dead center on the downriver side, just above what looks like some kind of environmental tracker or river camera. That white mark is where I take this photo from.
Weeknotes: December 8–12, 2025
On top of my day job, schoolwork, and the countless creative tasks I assign myself every year, I’ve picked up a side hustle as a Door Dash driver to earn some extra holiday cash. It’s a lot, but it has helped me pay off a few unexpected bills and offered some security I need right now. A few nights ago, I was navigating up an icy path, delivering some sandwiches to Glencoe Hills Apartments, when a woman stopped me. “Hey. Slow down.”
Her voice barely registered. “What?”
She looked me in the eyes. “Slow down. You’re gonna get there.”
I paused, mumbled a thank you, then hustled forth to complete my delivery. Later in the week, as I was careening toward year-end burnout, I thought again about the encounter. Maybe she’s just a keen observer of body language, but something about my energy must have seemed manic enough for her to flag me down.
As we tumble into the heart of the holidays, it’s a good reminder to take a breath and allow yourself a little grace. I’ve got some leave coming up and I’m going to hit pause on Weeknotes for the rest of the year. If the mood strikes me, I may toss up a bit of miscellany, but otherwise, I’ll see you in 2026. Cheers! -TM
Weeknotes: December 1–5, 2025
Monday, December 1
I don't remember thinking of Gremlins as a Christmas movie. Rewatching it now, the first thing I notice is that it was obviously filmed in California, and that the small town of Kingston Falls looks a lot like another fictional '80s town. Apparently, Back To the Future was also filmed on Universal's Courthouse Square backlot. Kingston Falls is Hill Valley, but coated in a layer of fake snow.
As a kid, I didn't question the set design — I just wanted to see Stripe plow the grumpy WWII dude over with his own tractor. I also didn't question why Phoebe Cates stuck around at Dorry's Tavern to serve all the bad gremlins alcohol and smokes — I just laughed at them getting drunk and doing dumb human things like playing cards and singing along to Snow White. Now, though… I’m afraid Gremlins just isn't very believable.
Weeknotes: November 24–28, 2025
Monday, November 24
At Family Chicken, I pick up an order of fried gizzards which stinks up my car during the last delivery of the night. I'm a few days into a new holiday side hustle as a Door Dash driver. Usually, I play a couple gigs to offset holiday expenses, but nothing materialized this year. It doesn't pay much, but I can generate as much work as I need. I’m also witnessing will signings for a friend’s law practice. Work is work, and I’m happy to get it. Everything is expensive right now and I don't want to end the year in the red.
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: November 10–14, 2025
Monday, November 10
I'm with Neil at Fox Science Preserve, a former gravel pit in Scio Township known for its geological wonders. Punctuating the scrubby landscape are hulking glacial boulders of granite, tillite, gneiss, and limestone, many of them bearing 350 million-year-old fossils. At work, Neil and I write about rock music, but apparantly he is also a "rock" guy. I've come into rockdom more recently, surprising myself with how much I've enjoyed my Geology of the National Parks and Monuments class at the local community college. The 12 week course ends this week — tomorrow evening I'll take my final exam and test my knowledge of volcanism and continental collisions.