Not only because I got stuck on a tricky opener to WCS 35—but indirectly because of that—the newsletter that so many of you have read on Mondays will now be dropping on the weekend’s cusp.
It hit me while doing yoga at the gym on Sunset that my copy wants to spin ahead as much as it looks back. With this change, the writing will be less rushed by Sunday sports action and, theoretically, you’ll have more free time to consume the material.
Finally, my Sundays and Monday mornings have been fucked since this project began. To deny that factor would be a poorly-performing lie.
Sojourn conversations will drop unexpectedly, like bird shit, as either Zoom podcasts or their reader-version cousin.
Because I got stuck for a good four days on the aforementioned tricky opener, this schedule adjustment is happening. I did not enjoy this revelation encased in confusion. The route to enlightenment is painful sometimes.
Look forward to your Friday email.
You’ve probably caught me equating this Sojourn journalism with busking. That description might be inadequate, especially for you folks already paying to consume my stuff.
In an industry that’s broken, the fruit of supporting independent work is more than the sum of what you give. There’s benefit to be felt when you’re not consuming highly processed reportage or corporate news with an agenda. More than busking, The Sojourn is healing. You are always welcome to tip your journo.