Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of March 29, 2020
Humor is not a universal language. It is, by nature and design, intended for siloing. Even the greatest broad comedy has its haters. The closest thing to universally accepted comedy is Jay Leno and, c’mon, fuck Jay Leno.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?