HeyJaredArtichoke Heart
Essays and vignettes from my early twenties, a disaster zone. When I'm not writing, I'm reading.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Aug 25, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 4, 2026
Latest issues
We are so back (opens the original)
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Well, this is embarrassing. My second chance turned into two weeks off. That’s what I get for launching a new newsletter series the week before starting a new full-time, in-person job.And, reader, so much has happened in the last two weeks.Subscribe nowI celebrated my dear friend Dylan’s birthday (the mother of the two fur children featured in the above post) (I don’t know how old she turned and frankly that’s not any of my business)
In which I take a mulligan (opens the original)
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I had half a mind to start this letter with, “Did you think I might have forgotten this time?” Except then I did almost forget to send this.I started my new job last week, and my own personal Return to Office has kicked my butt. I love the company, and I’m very excited to be there—but I need to recalibrate when I will have time to do freelance work and cook for myself and exercise, much less write for half an hour every day. I’m still getting used to getting up with the sun.So I’m counting this
You can do your life’s work in half an hour a day (opens the original)
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This is not The Artist’s Way (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="1823" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!c4Q2!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F76cceb1d-5792-4fe6-9f7a-ec4b217aa0f3_4004x5012.
Grief Porn (opens the original)
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Tomorrow marks one year since the floods that killed 27 campers and counselors at Camp Mystic and claimed more than 100 other lives across Texas. It’s raining in New York, one of these shocking summer storms that I’m still getting used to. The sky is the deceptive pink of a sunset, but the thunder just now was so loud that it set off several car alarms on my street. I’m getting ready to leave again for Paris tomorrow. I do not speak on behalf of anyone mentioned in the following essay. It’s quit
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