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Literary Mixtape Vol. 10

Side A:

Side B:

Mar 3, 2024

I'm a bit nerdy about stats, and one of the best parts of the back-end bullshit for blogs is being able to see how far-flung readers are across the globe.

By a wide margin, most of you are in the States, with California clocking the highest readership. Canada follows (hi, hosers), then Italy, United Kingdom, Germany, and so on. We have readers in China, Singapore, India, Lebanon, Vietnam, Brazil, and Myanmar. I suppose this shouldn't shock me – writers and readers are everywhere, and work travels at the speed of the algorithm.

Maybe I'm not shocked so much as humbled. When you start a project it's hard to imagine anyone outside your immediate circle caring. By reading, sharing, and contributing, M7ers are making this project a global one, and I just think that's real fucking cool.

I can't wait to see it grow further.

Rounding up this week's mixtape:

Oliver Kleyer remembers a time where mixtapes were made with breathless concentration on the boombox in "The Golden Age of Radio."

Abigail Myers bonds instantly with a stranger in a Wilco t-shirt while uttering two words across a gas station in "Outta Mind (Outta Sight)".

Ronnie K. Stephens holds a finger to the lips with "Black Hole Sun", a story about secrets (and people) kept hostage in teenage thrall.

Sarah R. New frets about slow burn love in "You Are In Love", a meditation on how sometimes the good things need space and time to grow.

Bob Armstrong keeps quiet watch on the neighbours in "Ninth and Hennepin", a story about teetering on the edge of involvement and distance in a small community.

Christian Garduno gives a kiss-off (or is it a kiss-come-here?) to an old lover in "I Didn't Change My Number".

Happy Sunday, pals. Hope it's a good one and that life's going gentle on ya wherever you're checking in from.




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