Small Town Grievances: the Great Substack Continuation

Coat my bones in resin and sell them at the gift shop. Port my blood for the luxury crayons, gather the erasers in my open skull.

Friend

The world is a bewildering place. Each week another billboard appears on the road to the airport introducing some new terrifying mattress technology, even before we’ve come to terms with the last one. The sun has grown so hot that bouncing its light between multiple mirrors no longer depletes its glare enough to for us to see what critters may be hiding up there.

Sure, the 4G towers besieging our communities can be neutralised by simply wrapping a damp cloth around the transmitter, but who wants to climb up there every time it dries out? The metal is severe between our tender thighs and the cries of the circling gulls are louder than you might expect.

The world, I don’t have to explain, is different.

If this is our first meeting

Then I expect it will take time for trust to grow between us. Until then we’re going by Primate Rules so I will thank you not to look me in the eyes too long.

In the meantime, seek more context about this small town newsletter in the helpful About page, or start delving into the Archive. It can be read in any order you like.

If we have met before

Then I welcome you to the new Small Town Grievances, which lives here now on Substack. As you may be aware from the last Small Town Grievances email, TinyLetter (our home since 2018) is being shut down in early 2024, likely due to It’s Not Very Good And Never Has Been.

Some would say this change has been long overdue. To them I ask: where were you when I was weighed down by my trials, self-inflicted (ate too much fruit) or otherwise (forced to seek safety atop rickety fruit shop ladder by overly-emotional huffing grocer).

All going well, your subscription will have been ported over with little harm to either of us, and you, in your loving grace, will see fit to stay.

Either way

I thank you for being here with me during this complicated website time, and I hope you look forward to new editions of Small Town Grievances appearing here with increased regularity, one of which is forthcoming shortly.

Now go

I forgot I was running the bath and it now risks flooding the whole house, like in the dream everyone has had at least once in their life. I’m not missing the opportunity to witness it at least once in my waking life.