PicoBlog

For maybe fifteen years, the alarm was set for 5:04 am. Since pandemic, 6:04. Weekends, nothing, I try to sleep as late as possible, though I rarely make it past seven-thirty.

I know what I find beautiful about waking early—the blue coloring, the optimism, the first coffee on the lips—but for a long time I overvalued it, I think. Not the dawn, but the recurrence. Routine is crucial, but routine also can be crutch.

For example, here is my day these days, pretty much six days a week if I’m not traveling:

Wake, drink a mug of hot water, then a cappuccino.

Read the web—and three days a week synthesize it for a newsletter—then do the Wordle and text the results to a former roommate. (She’s a sculptor in New York and sends hers while I sleep.)

Make a smoothie, head out the door. The smoothie is spinach, carrots, berries, almond milk, water, kefir, some cinnamon, some chia seeds, some peanut butter, half a banana and protein powder.

Walk or drive to the office that’s about three miles from home. Meditate for ten minutes. Do another coffee and write for three hours, drinking green tea.

Take a three-mile walk while listening to podcasts.

Do email, housekeeping, online bullshit. Start and hopefully finish the New York Times crossword puzzle. Then make an afternoon coffee, drink a ton more water, and do three more hours of writing, reading, interviews, research.

By three or four, I’m toast, so I go to a climbing gym and either climb or lift weights, or both, then stretch and sauna.

Around six, I make a cocktail, listen to music, and read. Make or order something for dinner (I don’t eat lunch), drink some wine, then make an espresso and do more writing and reading, finish the crossword if uncompleted. Bed by 10:30.

Here’s the thing: this is all very dull.

For years, since my early twenties, I thought routine, a rigid one, was how a working artist (of sorts) makes things happen. But what if it was calcifying? What if it helped me, as a person, avoid my dark matter? What if, with less routine, my writing had become more interesting?

Routine is boring, but what if it makes a person boring, too?

These days, I make a lot more effort to break it up—see friends for drinks, see shows, attend Japanese women’s wrestling matches when invited (photo above). Plus, routine doesn’t much apply to a lot of things I find deeply meaningful: travel, sex, parties. Joy furloughs, sadness furloughs, dancing. I like to call people out of the blue. I love texting, DMing.

Spontaneity, generally speaking, is a pretty good chauffeur to hire when I can afford to.

Every person is a puzzle. And we are also things that neutrinos pass through. To padlock myself to routine at times has produced a lot of stuff—but I’m so sick of productivity, of artistry described as work. Personally, I’d rather do the things I need to do while also straying across the week. Be in and out of sight across the hours.

A fixed state is no way to be a human—not anymore, at least for me.

☞ Hi. I’m able to write these meditations thanks to paying supporters.

Level up and receive the Sunday supplement with three things to love—travel gear, great new music, cool stuff generally—plus the monthly “Humans Being Humans” ballyhoo.

Speaking of Sunday, tomorrow’s three things:

❀ Btw, if you’re a writer looking for help—editing, coaching, brainstorm magic—I highly recommend collaborating with my partner, editor-for-hire Rachel Knowles.

Rachel has helped me significantly, not to mention lots of other writers, aspiring and established—novelists, screenwriters, Substackers, the gamut! Lots more info at her website. Strong rec.

“Meditations in an Emergency” is a weekly essay from writer Rosecrans Baldwin about something beautiful. Paying subscribers receive a Sunday supplement with three things to love, plus the monthly “Humans Being Humans” ballyhoo.

Rosecrans is the bestselling author of Everything Now, winner of the California Book Award. Other books include The Last Kid Left and Paris, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down. His debut novel, You Lost Me There, was a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice. For more—magazine articles, bio, contact info, blah blah blah—check out rosecransbaldwin.com.

ncG1vNJzZmiqn6iypL7Ap6pnq6WXwLWtwqRlnKedZL1ws8Stq6Kml2LCsXnEmqmlsV2gtq%2BwwA%3D%3D