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Hi friends.

I’m gonna get to my very simple mood-shifting act in a second. So I promise the vibes of this letter will get better.

But first: greetings from a city where I don’t even know what the hell is going on here but at least it’s the last day of it. I mean I’ve lived through Mardi Gras and I’ve lived through like, a Taylor Swift tour, but the Super Bowl is like a whole other monster.

It’s like they dropped a whole new city full of really rich people on top of ours. And this city is barely big enough to hold them all. Also it feels like every other building downtown is wrapped in an enormous cheese-product-related promotional wrapper.

People appreciate the work though, so it’s hard to argue with that. I am glad for my neighbors to get paid for their labor: designing things, building things, feeding and housing and entertaining people. Keeping this city clean, all of it. We need the work in this town.

But it’s also hard not to feel like we’re in the spin cycle of some vicious kind of capitalist washing machine.

At least the Super Bowl has brought a few friends to town: I had a nice dinner with my old friend (and 1000 Words contributor) Will Leitch the other night.