well would you look at that, that’s my best friend!
today’s ride 🚋
midwestern haikus: to the woman holding it down while i’m away ✈️
deep dish with nish: does this make me smile? like… for real, for real? 🤔
keeping on track: when the sounds fade, and the lights go out, it’s still me and you
thanks for being here!
— nish ✍🏽
there’s a light on, in chicago. and i know i should be home 💡
i've been thinking about home lately, mainly because i'm typing this from a hotel room in charleston, south carolina, with two more nights where i have to occupy a bed without the love of my life and my little furry critters.
work trips have their own rhythm, and this one's been, in all fairness, warranting of no complaints — great food, good drinks, and coworkers who i can share a laugh with. like touring when i’m with the band, when a night on the road includes sustenance, a hot shower, and a bed of my own, there’s little i should complain about!
but hear me out, i’m about to complain! this is coming not from any shortcomings of my lodgings, but moreso because what i have at home truly cannot be beat. at home, mar and i share a queen-sized bed. even though it’s bigger than a twin, what that really means is that mar takes up ¾ of the bed somehow, and what little is left of our footspace is taken up by one of our spoiled little kitties (hi oso, i miss you but you’re also a brat…).
on “vacation-mode", or on this company off-site that i’m currently on, one might think the luxury of a king-bed all to myself is the peak of all desires and comforts, but when you compare it to the warmth of your love and a little fur-ball by your feet… you tell me what you’d pick.
there's something about being the only living thing in a bed built for two — turndown service, chocolate on the pillow, all of it — that makes it more obvious, not less. no cat weight against my legs. no mar stealing the blanket by 3 a.m. and then blaming me for "running hot." i've got a nice view of a parking garage and i'd trade it in half a second for pato's judgmental staring or oso's full-sprint through the hallway at 11 p.m., for reasons no one has ever explained to me.
when you love someone enough, there is no substitution for the safety, warmth, and comfort they employ just by their simple presence. some might call it luck. i call it a blessing.
of course i’ll go through the off-site and try to build deeper connections with my coworkers, i'll probably enjoy most of it, too! but i already know the exact feeling i’ll have as i land in chicago on thursday, knowing that just a quick uber ride sits between me and smooshing my favorite beings in the world.
when you love someone enough, there is no substitution for the safety, warmth, and comfort they employ just by their simple presence. some might call it luck. i call it a blessing.
while there are infinite and unique qualifiers for the specificity of love that we experience, the coming home feels especially special to me. maybe it’s because i don’t often spend this much time apart from the beating hearts that define my very existence, but i think it’s also because i’ve fallen so in love with the simple routines of the lives we’re creating.
yes, there are a multitude of adventures that exist out there in the expanse of the world. but compare that to the couch where the cats are curled by my legs, and mar is sprawrled across my chest, and i think i’ve got that line pretty beat.
and if that sounds boring to you, i’m so sorry that you live a life unfulfilled or have a partner that can’t make the mundane feel magical. if you need some help on the joy of simple comforts, holler!
deep dish with nish:
from our last haiku, one of you said:
"what do i do even if i want to set aside some time for creativity but end up not having any?”
that’s tough given that so much of our day-to-day feels SO important and urgent. it’s hard to sometimes step back and say maybe this isn’t the most important thing i have to do today. but even if we get to that point, it still takes effort to create/pursue the things we want to sweat for.
the best advice i can offer here is to make a joy and bummer list about the creative tasks you’re contemplating. it’s kind of like a pros and cons list, but it is literally divided between does doing this thing bring me joy? or is doing this thing a bummer? it might not always be a clean and even split, but it will tell you a LOT about where your heart is when it comes to your creative endeavors!
(send in your questions to [email protected] and maybe your question will be the star of the next newsletter!)
keeping on track:
this week’s song is "after the party” by the punk rock legends, the menzigers from scranton, pennysylvania.
i have been thinking about this song for almost 10 years.
no joke. the lyrics i’ve highlighted here have, and i cannot stress this enough, fucked me up for damn near a decade. let’s not pretend: we all want to be the main characters of our own stories. i know it’s true for me, and it’s probably true for you. that’s also fair and valid.
but i remember hearing this song and thinking wow. what kind of person this must be to write the concept of the people and the love we become after the highs of the night, after the applause, after the room full of accolade and adoration.
i’ve had the privilege of seeing a lot of success in the creative endeavors i’ve pursued in my life, but until meeting mar, these lines never really made sense to me.
now they do. after the party, the blaring speakers and the revolving door of strangers piping in to validate your performance, i come home to her and the cats. it’s just me and them. the ringing in my ears, sure, but only the heat of their bodies reminding me why i really exist.
what a gift. the parties are all a hoot, but fuck all of the parties. after the party, it’s me and her. goodness. to be so lucky.
lyrics i love:
everybody wants to get famous
but you just want to dance in a basement
you don't care if anyone is watching
just as long as you stay in motion
we put miles on these old jean jackets
got caught up in the drunk conversations
but after the party, it's me and you
after the party, it's me and you
this must be my exit
before i spend too long waxing love-etic and stay up too late and miss the morning activities with the company crew, let me just say this: i am very lucky and blessed to have a little village of love to miss at all. if your village isn’t as clear-cut as mine, fret not. there are still people out there who miss the consistency of your love, you just have to find them.
if you don’t want to send in a question for deep dish with nish but still have thoughts, comments, concerns for my mental well-being after seeing this existential spiral caught on keyboard, talk to me! i love mail, even when it’s ‘e’.
liked what you read? tell someone about it! that beats me vageuposting into the void trying to fight an algorithm! 🤖
as always though, thanks for being here. 🙏
warmly,
nish
is this little bit not enough?
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