Riding my bike, not to feel like I felt when I was 10 years old, but to feel the way I wanted to feel when I was 10 years old. Getting the drop bars on Rocinante swapped out for straight ones. Meeting Marty at the crossroads. Riding to Manor with Christy. Riding to my PO Box and the library just to get out.
Sending letters in the mail.
Text chains with friends I’ve known for over 20 years. Phone calls with Jamie and Matt. Text chains with my kids.
Long emails from interesting elders.
Typewriter interviews!
Making a mixtape every month from a sealed cassette I bought for 99 cents at the record store.
Oahu!!! Adding the Windward Coast and North Shore to my list of magical happy-making drives along the Pacific Ocean. Green mountains, palm trees, sunny beaches, swimming with sea turtles and dolphins, poke bowls, plate lunches, cold coconuts, shaved ice, ukuleles, McDonald’s drive-thrus that still do fried pies, lizards, mongooses, peacocks, horses, feral chickens, Banyan trees, ukulele shops, and watching every sunrise and every sunset. The best vacation we’ve ever been on.
Walking 3 miles every day with Meghan. Brunch dates at Epicerie. Burritos from T-Loc’s — and fish and chips during Lent! Stopping for the occasional coffee at Neighbor. Picking up our holds from the library. Driving down to Deep Eddy and walking the hike and bike trail. Walking two miles to breakfast at El Dorado cafe and walking two miles back home.
Trying to make the studio cozy and welcoming. Burning incense and candles. Hot tea. London Fogs on a cold afternoon.
Steak with onions from Hank’s garden. Mashed potatoes and gravy.
Hot dogs with kimchi.
Rhubarb pie. Pecan pie. The gigantic pie Meghan made out of all the leftover apples in our fridge.
Singapore slings.
Having friends visit and stay in our pool house.
The empty chair I keep on the other side of my desk for friends who visit the studio. Showing Steven how to fold zines.
Turning Alan’s words and Warren’s drawings into collages.
Thinking about “idea gardens” and other gardening metaphors. Pansies! Cacti! How much Meghan hates lantana for no good reason. Our prickly pears in their fourth year of growth. The offspring of Giuseppe the Cactus, and how one of Giuseppe’s offspring is getting bigger than Giuseppe. (A sign of things to come.)
Getting into snails.
Doing yard work while listening to a podcast. Pulling leaves out of the pool.
Fixing things. A broken keyboard with superglue. My Honda Fit’s hood with $8 plugs from Amazon.
Going around the house with a screwdriver and tightening anything that needs tightening.
Mardi Gras porch drinking with Hank, Cindy, and Marty.
Music with the boys. Playing them CDs and listening to the radio in the car. Our listen-through of Kraftwerk’s catalog. Owen texting us his new songs to listen to. Jam sessions in the music room. Joystick Jukebox on KOOP, and how Owen suggested a bunch of tracks for one of the shows. Interviewing Owen about his album, TECH. Building a playlist together for my July mixtape.
Nerding out about weird facts with the kids, like the phenomenon of the “Shepard Tone” that Christopher Nolan loves to use in his movies. (Some call it the audio equivalent of a “Barber’s pole,” which has its own wild history.)
Playing a lot guitar. Getting a looper pedal. Messing around with Koala Sampler on my phone. Thinking of asking for an MPC One for my birthday.
Hating a record the first time I hear it, then playing it again to see if it’s as bad as I think it is, and before I know it I’ve played it three or four times and I can’t stop listening to it. (That happened with Geese’s 3D Country.)
Getting into jazz.
Playing games with the kids. Uno. Battleship. Clue.
Playing Dr. Mario on our old Wii with Meghan while blasting the first Dave Matthews Band record.
Cheap acrylic book stands to display books on our bookshelves and hold up “now playing” CDs and tapes by the stereo.
Being okay with our screech owls not sticking around after the winter. Saying goodbye to Flaco. Watching Athena the Great Horned Owl raise her owlets at the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center. Checking in on the hawk’s nest in my neighborhood.
Splooting squirrels. Cursing at them for digging in the planters and eating all the pecans.
Trying to spend more time in the RSS reader on my phone instead of on Twitter.
The smell of cedar and mulch around the new troll in Pease Park.
Finding a Rubik’s cube on the sidewalk, picking it up and solving it, and putting it back on the sidewalk.
Talking about God around the firebowl. Jules saying he thinks God makes thunderstorms when he wants to be alone. (Because everybody has to go inside.)
Cidercade for Jules’ birthday. Good views of the boardwalk.
The boys leaving Post-It notes for us (and themselves) around the house.
Weekly rituals. Spaghetti night on Monday. Pizza and a movie night on Friday. Going out for dinner on Sunday. Taking the boys to happy hours for cheap burgers and Kerbey Lane for Kids Eat Free Tuesdays.
Weekly reviews. Reading my friend Mark’s rebooted blog.
The relief I feel on Friday afternoon when all the kids are home safe from school for the weekend.
Spring in full bloom.
The total eclipse.
Watching the Olympics with the kids.
Planning trips. Reading guidebooks.
Doing the dishes while listening to loud dance music on the Wonderboom or the Walter Martin Radio Hour on headphones.
Face cream and hand lotion every night. (It works!)
Owen saying, “Watch this, y’all!”
Listening to really great music. How the Wikipedia entry for The Ronettes’ “Be My Baby” has an entire section devoted to the song’s effect on Brian Wilson.
The newsletter passing a quarter of a million subscribers. All the great discussions we have in the comment sections.
Running into newsletter readers out in the wild. The nice poll worker who saw my ID and said, “Do you have a Substack?” Running into my old neighbor Ian at Breakaway Records and talking about jazz. Meeting my down-the-street neighbor Dave when the car alarm on my ancient, hail-damaged, pollen-covered Honda Fit was malfunctioning after I had to jump-start it and couldn’t turn it off in fear that the battery might die again. “Are you Austin Kleon?” he asked. That’s me, I admitted over the blaring horn. “I read your newsletter!” he said.
How nice it can be to subtract technology from your daily life. Having to work on my book with a clipboard, typing paper, and a Pentel Sign Pen because my Mac Studio fried out. Listening to the radio and CDs because my phone doesn’t talk to the car. Charging my phone in the kitchen so I have to read my Kindle before bed. Shooting pictures with an old film camera, not for the results, which are lovely, but to remember what it was like to have to be selective about what you shoot, how to move your body to get a good shot, and the surprise of seeing how your negatives turn out.
Reading a big book over the summer while floating in the pool. Spending a whole Sunday afternoon reading a music book.
How when it rains in Austin you can hear tiny frogs chirping at night.
Lightning bugs! Cicadas!
Going into the studio to write and getting a good 90 minutes in. Taking Hemingway’s advice: “The best way is always to stop when you are going good and when you know what will happen next. If you do that every day… you will never be stuck.”
Eating a Homeslice sub and potato chips and drinking a cherry Coke in the pool on my 41st birthday.
Being a tourist in your own town. Barton Springs with the Butler brothers. Taking one of those silly bat cruises on Town Lake and getting BBQ at Blacks.
Hanging out in Wells Branch with Matt, shopping at Piranha Records and Daiso together.
Friends that bring you little gifts whenever you hang out.
The Joy Williams reading at the Ransom Center that started promptly at 7PM and ended promptly at 8PM with cocktails.
New Mexico trip with the family. Meow Wolf. Ojo Caliente. Driving the desert to Yellow Magic Orchestra. Green chile cheeseburgers from McDonald’s. Morning coffee on the La Fonda balcony. Driving the Turquoise trail and the high road from Taos. Folk art museum. Picking up a pizza and driving up the mountain to eat it in the woods. Not being hot in July.
Travel bidets!
Kids old enough we can leave them home while we take our daily walk around the neighborhood. Stopping to chat with neighbors.
Getting one-on-one time with the kids. Taking Owen to get a haircut. Walking around UT campus with Jules.
Making stamps out of Pink Pearl Erasers.
Writing the foreword to Amos Kennedy’s Citizen Printer, the most lavish book yet published with my name on the cover.
Interviewing authors I admire, sure, but getting to hang out with them afterwards. Cocktails at Fareground with Franz Nicolay after the Band People event at the Austin Public Library. Miller Lite with Deb Chachra at Donn’s Depot after the How Infrastructure Works event at Bookpeople.
Getting to wear the one suit I own — first, to Steven’s ordination, and then to dress up with Meg to emcee the library gala.
Hanging out at Black Pearl Books on Prince Friday.
Ignoring baseball all year and then spending all of October watching the playoffs, cheering for Cleveland and rooting against the Yankees while reading a book.
Halloween! Carving pumpkins, roasting seeds, eating pumpkin donut holes from H-E-B.
Laity Lodge. A long hike up on the bluff overlooking the canyon. Chef Ryan’s red sauce, and getting to behold his walk-in freezer. Sitting around the fire talking with new friends. Browsing the library. Playing the Steinway. Watching artists work in the studio.
Listening to the last episode of Jamaican Gold, which was the soundtrack to my Sunday afternoons for many years.
Marc Maron at the Paramount with Gerren and Morgana.
Eno at Austin Film Society with Art, and getting to talk to Gary Hustwit afterwards about how the heck they’re going to stream it.
Going back through old photos to free up space on my phone, and how it turns into a process of re-discovering memories and old ideas. (Chris Glass emailing an old photo of my mom and me and then writing a touching post about his daily method of going back through 20 years of his photo archives: “A process to process.”)
The slang words my kids teach me, like “brain rot” or “mid.”
Having my own dumb old man ways to answer the question “How are you?” like, “I am riding in the bike lane on trash day,” or, “I’ve got squirrels in my owl boxes,” or, “I’m like a cheeseburger with no cheese,” or, “I’m like a snail on a cactus.”
Having a kid old enough to be in middle school! Walking him to school every day.
Getting writing done. “Donkey work.”
Being in-between drafts, that beautiful spot where, as my editor (Meghan) says, “Somebody else is looking after the baby,” and I can putter and fritter my days until the baby is returned to me, free any of the existential “What next?” angst of being in “The Abyss” or “The Gulp” or that place in between projects when you worry you might never write again.
The Anni Albers show at the Blanton Museum. Shooting a little video for them.
Visiting Kevin and Alex’s studio in Cherrywood on the Austin Studio Tour.
Asking a potter about her process and her saying, “I just go into the studio and play.”
How a lot of people still don’t notice all the “hey y’all” and “xoxo” Easter egg links in the newsletter.
New questions that help: “What would it mean to be done for the day?” “Why don’t you try typing?” “What kind of place do you want to be in?” “Does this contribute to the variety of the world?”
Making the family room nice — buying a new TV cabinet for all the gear and cables. A new Apple TV, which is slick and fast and easy. Binge-watching Bridgerton and Below Deck. Not having to pick something to watch. The Criterion 24/7 Channel. The Star Trek channel on Pluto TV.
Our new tradition of doing a 1000-piece puzzle over holiday break.
A fourth grader who said, “Don’t let your dreams give up on you.”
Discovering that “contrarian,” in the business sense, means investing in things that aren’t popular right now. Throwing in with stuff that’s currently undervalued.
That, somehow, people keep reading my books. That I’ve been able to make a living as a writer for over a dozen years now. Seeing books I’ve written in languages I can’t read, like a box set of my books in Italian. Finally finishing a book proposal and selling the book I’ve been working on for almost a decade.
Being able to go the stationery store and buy whatever I want. (And claim it as a business expense!)
Good pants! “I am searching for a good pair of pants. I never found a pair of pants that I just love," says David Lynch. “If they're not right, which they never are, it's a sadness." Getting a couple of pairs of big 90s pants after Meghan told me it was socially acceptable to wear them again. “You should always be wearing pants you think look stupid,” says writer Noah Garfinkel. Or, as Meghan puts it, “I don’t want to wear the clothes I wore in the 90s, I want to wear the clothes my parents wouldn’t buy me in the 90s.”
New wool socks for Christmas.
Watching the New Year’s Eve countdown in Animal Crossing with Owen on his Nintendo Switch. (And how Jules, like a king, went to bed at 8:30 p.m.)
A California trip without the kids. Drinking beer by the Ace Hotel pool in Palm Springs after a successful gig, waiting for Meghan to get there in our rental Jeep. Starting the February 29 leap day with a sunrise in Joshua Tree National Park and finishing it with a sunset view on Malibu Pier. In between, hiking Hidden Valley, taking in the panorama at Keys View, strolling the Cholla Cactus Garden. Drinking a shake at Shields Date Garden and eating a heavenly pastrami reuben at Sherman’s Deli in Palm Springs. Putting an end to 3 hours of LA traffic with a beautiful drive down Malibu Canyon Road. Walking the beach the next morning, then flying home.
The Surfrider’s sound machine we bought after we got home, and how I no longer have to wear earplugs when I sleep.
Hitting the snooze button, snuggling, and falling back to sleep.
My yellow book truck!
Thanks for reading. This is the eleventh year I’ve made one of these lists. I’ve heard from many of you that you’ve started making your own, which makes me very happy.
Hope your 2025 is off to a good start.
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