Hello. Greetings from the first time I have been outdoors since Sunday. So I guess like the last time I spoke to you, I'm holding my phone up. Do you hear that drilling? If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that it's like a regular spring day in New York,

a regular spring Thursday.

Do you hear that?

Ah.

I never thought jack hammering would bring me comfort.

Never ever.

Not in a million or a million in one or a million in three years.

It's Thursday morning.

I'm walking through Soho.

I don't know if my voice sounds a little muffled,

but if it does, that's because I've managed to shove my phone into a mask

in order to record this.

You are technically listening to dispatch number five of the voice notes I have

been distributing in the spirit of monocycle. And I have been trying to think about what I could

possibly say this week that was different from last week, that was different from the week before, and whether even continuing to do this is worth it at all.

I don't know if I'm always questioning what, the purpose of my output is,

but I've definitely been doing it way more than usual in the past five or so weeks.

I was in a pitch meeting yesterday with the editorial team at Man Repeller,

and Harling pitched a really poignant essay about essentially how badly she wants to get out of

her own head and it really hit me in the jugular as I say because it occurred to me that that is the exact

sensation that I've been feeling and probably a lot of people have been feeling over the course of

the past five or so weeks. There's this just like soup of three or four topics that are on every single one of our minds, right?

...