Drawings of Stuff that Never Happened

Second drafts of personal history

As readers of this newsletter know by now, I’ve been taking a deep dive into my own past, swimming through the 6 million-or-so words I’ve written in my daily journals since October 12, 1978. Right, it’s as if a T.Rex—check that, maybe just a water-loving spinosaurus, to keep my metaphor afloat—had been chronicling the days as the ice age descended. I am…