Hey there, I started doing audio files of my posts. Substack claims it’s the road to fabulous success and wealth. If it annoys you, let me know in the comments! Thank you, T
I think you're right, but I can also know how much a connection matters. From the beginning I understood that the attention and outrage was sickeningly unfair and immoral at its heart, and yet my most desperate feeling was, “JUST LET IT WORK!” Jose Andres is someone people “know” —as in, are familiar with and have positive views of—and humans work in strange ways. People caring is better than people not caring, and some people won't care for the right reasons. More than anything, I want them to care because I want it to stop. The well of despair I've been floating in has been so black, so much darker and deeper than anything I've ever felt before concerning any other event, bringing up the worst images of WWII in my mind and keeping every cell in my body at a near-constant scream of "STOP" immediately latched onto this as the first breath of hope since October. An intervention was an intervention. "Why" genuinely does matter because nothing will change if it doesn't, and yet I'll take what I can get.
I like the audio posts!
I am the grackle. https://open.spotify.com/track/7IP5XfLqHi45F4KtnaqWzX?si=IbQkU_CcT4KyN-3_Qty-vA
Thank you!
Love it. I generally only listen to audio because I'm either driving or working at the sane time.
I like the audio post though it sounds like you’re sick? Hope you’re feeling better
I think you're right, but I can also know how much a connection matters. From the beginning I understood that the attention and outrage was sickeningly unfair and immoral at its heart, and yet my most desperate feeling was, “JUST LET IT WORK!” Jose Andres is someone people “know” —as in, are familiar with and have positive views of—and humans work in strange ways. People caring is better than people not caring, and some people won't care for the right reasons. More than anything, I want them to care because I want it to stop. The well of despair I've been floating in has been so black, so much darker and deeper than anything I've ever felt before concerning any other event, bringing up the worst images of WWII in my mind and keeping every cell in my body at a near-constant scream of "STOP" immediately latched onto this as the first breath of hope since October. An intervention was an intervention. "Why" genuinely does matter because nothing will change if it doesn't, and yet I'll take what I can get.