I absolutely blanked last week and missed putting this out. Sorry, yall! It’s been a busy few weeks. Extra long edition today to make up for it.
In terms of news for things around here, it’s been a big week for Good Folk. Our podcast producer Vic turned 25, and we are taking them out tonight to celebrate— happy birthday, Vic!
We also announced a very exciting secret concert and live podcast taping in Durham, NC on Saturday, April 8th. Featuring acoustic sets from the incredible Alexander Robichaud, Scivic Rivers, and Dissimilar South. Get your ticket! Once they go, they’re gone.
We also dropped a new podcast episode with Matt Southern, a musician based here in the Triangle. We’re working with Matt, who runs Live from the Nest, on the above event. Lots of wisdom here about community, collaboration, and using your work to support the work of those around you.
I got to see Tombstone Poetry play in Asheville last weekend, and have had this on repeat since. So good!
New music from Moore County musician and friend of Good Folk, Logan Duke.
Appalachia featured in Bon Appetit! God, what I would do for some of my grandma’s chicken and dumplings right now. Yes, yall, we eat more than biscuits and grits in the South. Read this!
Really appreciated Alicia Kennedy’s thoughts on place and home in her newsletter this week.
In a short story I wrote that comes out this weekend at the 2023 Tennessee Williams/Saints and Sinners festival, I imagined a North Carolina coast where all those who could picked up their homes and moved them away. Now that is a reality.
More good stuff from our wonderful friends Palmyra.
Yes, I’m watching The Last of Us. Yes, I think it’s the best show I’ve ever seen. Yes, my thesis work is focusing on ecological apocalypse. Here the New York Times asks: are mushrooms our friends?
I appreciate this thread. It really is much harder to choose to stay sometimes. But it’s always important to support those who make that choice.
It’s a beautiful world if you are willing to look close enough to see it.
Then it came to me, my little life. I remembered my life the way an axe handle, mid-swing, remembers the tree. & I was free.
Wood Working at the End of the World, via Ocean Vuong. And I was free…