The perpendicular pronoun (plural)

As some of you may be aware, I’ve been toying with the idea of a newsletter for some time.

And it’s not like me to let trifling matters like delusions of grandeur or lack of ego stand in my way.

However, it ought to be noted that, in recent years, I’ve had a sense of humility forced upon me.

Something I’ve had to endure.

Things – they move – in cycles.

I remain open to discussion of the highs and lows of the male menstrual cycle.

But for now, the universe has been giving out mixed messages.

She loves me, she loves me not.

Our pretty little minds ( ugliest part of the body ) are far too small to fathom what’s really going on.

We haven’t the foggiest notion.

Which is why I am taking back the right to communicate.

I really ought to carry on putting and pointing stuff out.

I haven’t figured out the requisite mechanisms to get and acknowledge feedback or to send interested parties updates.

For now it’s all happening on here.

Let’s see how that works out.

Even though I may appear to be operating in isolation, I do value community and multiple viewpoints.

But it’s been equally liberating finally recognising that we can’t always all listen to each other or respect other people’s views.

I used to believe in the rewarding of virtue and respect for the the rules of fair play.

But prescriptive and descriptive are not the same thing.

Newsletters

I only recently heard of The Week – the magazine from the 1930s that was edited by Claud Cockburn – married to Patricia, Jean Ross, father to Alexander and Patrick Cockburn and grandfather to sometime BBC, Bloomberg, JP Morgan staffer Stephanie Flanders.

The forces of the multigenerational meritocracy matrix are strong.

But there’s nothing wrong with picking the right parents

There’s a magazine called The Week right now that I believe belongs to Dennis Publishing which was created by the eccentric dead billionaire Felix Dennis.

And then there was the newsletter by IF Stone.

I only ever read Stone’s newsletter once. It was thorough. They’re all available online – awaiting perusal.

And then there is Substack. A newsletter page that allows for paid subscriptions. Matt Taibbi is doing good stuff on there. Top writers can do ok on there.

My friend Roger Lewis runs the Not the Grub Street Journal website.

If you can keep up with it, Roger’s blog is a rollercoaster.

Until the early 19th century,Grub Street was a street close to London‘s impoverished Moorfields district that ran from Fore Street east of St Giles-without-Cripplegate north to Chiswell Street. It was pierced along its length with narrow entrances to alleys and courts, many of which retained the names of early signboards. Its bohemian society was set amidst the impoverished neighbourhood’s low-rent dosshouses, brothels and coffeehouses.

Roger blogs in the spirit of Cornell West’s idea of thinking out loud in public.

His blog is essentially his filing cabinet where he can keep track of different ideas.

Maybe there is a clue here for people like me who rarely squeeze the trigger ie press publish.

In the art / science of improvisation there is only so little time for deliberation.

Tyburn

The latest idea to pop into my head has been to do with publishing.

As I’ve been, in my own way, operating out of the café opposite the Frontline Foreign Correspondent (Spook) Club in Paddington over the last few years, I have identified a gap in the market for reporting investigatively on local issues.

Therefore it has fallen to me to establish The Tyburnian Truculent.

For now we are merely an occasional digital rag.

With occasional standing for ceremonial as opposed to without consequence.

Gangland Retribution

GB News has just set up shop in the area.

Perhaps they could be encouraged to dabble in some local reporting – yer never know.