This month I didn’t tell a lie. This month it was the coldest day in the month ever recorded. This month I plotted revenge. This month I thought I could really use a vacation. This month I was a dutiful uncle. This month I killed my idols. This month I didn’t exercise. This month I had a sinus infection so severe I dreamt that my cheekbones had been shattered in a fistfight. This month I started to read a book I expected to enjoy but tossed it aside after a few pages. This month I thought about time. This month I drank approximately 70 cups of coffee, had almost as many beers, and ate very little lettuce. This month my memory was repeatedly called into question. This month was devoted to monsters. This month my three year old son sounded out the word “see” in a book by himself. This month I thought: synergy. This month I thought: vertical integration. This month I remembered that when people I love experience great pain, I can feel the pain more sharply than if it was my own, which would have instead manifested in rage.

THIS MONTH I ASKED TOO MUCH OF ART

This month it was the warmest day in the month ever recorded. This month there were no mass shootings, unless I’m remembering incorrectly. This month I asked too much of art. This month I watched three seasons of Empire. This month I thought about accidents, and how long promises can be kept. This month my son renamed our cat, née Leopold, from Mookie to Shuggie. This month my father was in town and we had him over for breakfast and it was fine. It was great, actually. This month I fantasized about having lots of money. This month I discovered the Chicago rapper Cupkakke. This month I googled how to slash tires and learned how to shatter a windshield with a spark plug, just in case. This month I started a new skincare routine. This month my son said “I love you so much, Dada” and wrapped his arms around me. I clutched his head to my shoulder and tried to estimate how many more of these moments together we have left: too few.

THIS MONTH I REMEMBERED THAT EVEN THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE US CAN FIND OUR WORK RIDICULOUS

This month I thought more about my health than last month. This caused no discernible changes to my behavior. This month I received tens of thousands of emails and sent about two hundred. This month I responded to a wedding invitation with regrets. This month I thought a lot about Cardi B, and about America. This month I read a Wikihow article titled How To Enjoy Your Life. This month I remembered that even the people who love us can find our work ridiculous. This month I watched a superhero movie and thought, “what the fuck is happening.” This month I stood inside a Richard Serra sculpture with a friend who was receiving bad news. This month I thought about time. This month I was complimented by strangers for being an attentive father. This month I allowed myself a leisurely stroll. This month I moved offices. This month I was confronted over my non-participation in the family group text. This month I was pulled over for not turning from a turning-only lane. This month I learned more men I know are abusers, and blocked them on social media. This month I sometimes felt insane. This month I felt thicc. This month I remembered that love requires time, and that time is never perfect. This month I finally reattached the smoke detector I had ripped from the ceiling and was shocked by electricity. This month I thought, while regaining my balance after being electrocuted, from the top rung of a wobbly ladder, “this is exactly how I would go.” This month I rescheduled meeting a friend for a drink four times. This month I listened to very little music. This month I learned my sister is having a baby. This month I asked myself, “Is this worth doing?” and decided to double my effort. This month I kept saying “I am going through an awakening” without knowing what I meant. This month I read essays by Jenny Boully and thought Wow. I read Idiophone by Amy Fusselman and thought Omg. This month I learned Las Vegas has a professional hockey team. This month I thought about time, and the freedom to be alone. This month I smiled and raised my jalapeño popper in a toast to a woman thrusting her hips to the beat of “Play That Funky Music” in a biker bar in New Jersey. This month I felt too serious. This month I craved the ocean.

The images for each piece in this issue were generated algorithmically, by running the full text of the piece through a cryptographic hashing function, and then using the first six characters of the resulting hash to derive a unique hex color.