It’s been a few weeks since I expressed my gratitude to those of you who have hauled yourselves here to read. Days are busy. There is a lot to consume. Not every moment invites this kind of fare, or can sustain it. So thanks for hanging in there.
I’ve spent the last few weeks pressing these little black buttons arranged before me. Navel Gazing took some writing and rewriting, but I’m very happy with how Episode Five turned out. It’s about why I read fiction in the morning and how the container shapes what you put in it.
Less happy I am with gingham shirt guy, who is conducting animated phone conversations on this train.
That makes five episodes of Season Two. All of them live here, which subscribers should find easier than the previous arrangement. (I’m retiring the separate Substack soon and tucking the show under the umbrella at johndickerson.com. I’ll transfer the subscriptions when I do)
I’ve changed seats. The guy across from me looks homicidal. Frying pan. Fire.1
My latest piece for The Atlantic posted this morning. It’s about how a president uses public attention, and you can find it here.
This one required heavy work on the keyboard. The work lay in untangling public attention from private presidential attention—ideas linked but not identical, and often conflated. Margy Slattery, who spent a great deal of attention on the piece, reminded me why editors are so necessary and why I have such affection for them. I didn’t need reminding of course, but in this world of delights, where people are tempted to think that the craft and structure of an institution like The Atlantic aren’t worth the cost, I am here to testify that the care, fact-checking, and copy-editing all march toward precision and clarity.
NPR published my appearance on Wild Card with Rachel Martin. I really enjoyed being on the program. Rachel is very talented.
NPR published my appearance on Wild Card with Rachel Martin, recorded onstage in Aspen this summer. Rachel draws cards with questions on them, but the art is in her follow up and the space she creates for a conversation that covers some ground.
That’s it. I am going back to reading. I’ll have more to say soon enough, but I’ve thrown enough at you for a Sunday.
Thank you,
John
It turned out fine. He was merely quiet and smoldering, a condition often mistaken for a heightened chance of contusion.
Thank you, John Dickerson!
WE stand beside you...
And change seats along with you!
Thank you, John. All your work is first-rate.