I was asked recently about the motivations behind writing the MoaT. More accurately, I was asked “why the fuck do you do that?!” followed by incredulous squinting. Dubiety aside, it’s a good question.

After 16 months, much like brushing my teeth or collapsing into a heap of crippling loneliness, writing the MoaT’s become just another part of my day. And while that’s more than enough reason to keep doing a thing, I decided, as an experiment, not to post the MoaT the other day. I was hungover from my Denver trip, recording new Climb The Sky material with the Klein bros, and goddammit I just didn’t feel like it. So I didn’t.

And nothing happened. No disbelieving emails, vitriolic texts, or indication whatsoever that the universe was affected, even a tiny bit.

But then my trusty Pandora’s box of excuses began to open, all creaky and sinister. I could not write this newsletter, and that’d be totally fine. Certainly no one asked for it. Just let it disappear into the gaping maw of the internet, no harm no foul, smugly justified that you’ve proven, yet again, how you can’t win a rigged game.

Or, you could do the thing you said you were going to do, continue honoring the parts of yourself about which you’re most proud, and, god forbid, have fun, you dumb asshole.