#4 When everything that mattered stops mattering

A weekend newsletter about why post-apocalyptic films can feel so good, right now

This week I turned 43, a full decade between the age I was when I first started to try and get sober. The weekend I turned 33—the “Jesus Year” as some call it and by some I mean me—I was so fucked up. I was the walking dead, and as some kind of hail mary to fix that brokenness, I booked a weekend at Esalen to learn how to meditate.

I almost didn't go, a…