417. 2024 in Review: New York, Paris, London, Tokyo, Divorce, Hawaii, Bilbao, San Diego, & More!
+ Doing comedy on flu meds & Morris gets his favourite gift!
I trust you’re having a tremendous holiday break and have no idea what day it is. I sure don’t. That’s why this week’s newsletter is coming to you on a Plermsday.
Before I say anything else, I want to take a moment to give you a HUGE Thank You. I really appreciate your support this year. The community that’s built around this newsletter has surprised the hell out of me in the best way, and I’m really grateful for that. In the New Year, I’m doubling down my work here on New York Cartoons, as well as over on Process Junkie, so you can expect a lot more from me in 2025.
Christmas Day was a quiet one for me this year. I spent the day watching movies and scribbling with brush pens with my two favourite New Yorkers. Morris enjoyed his gift, which was an empty box wrapped in paper that he destroyed with the fervour of Florida Man on Bath salts. His favourite thing in the world.
Speaking of chaos: This year had its Ups and Downs —pretty pronounced ones— but it’s ending on an Up:
After months of elbowing NYC apartment hunters out of the way at open houses and viewings that had lines longer than a Taylor Swift concert, I finally signed a lease today on an apartment in Hell's Kitchen. I’m trading my pandemic-era Hudson Yards deal for something more aligned with Manhattan's tradition of obscene financial masochism. That’s right, after four years of stabilized pandemic pricing that gave my landlord a duodenal ulcer, it's time to join the ranks of regular New Yorkers who spend 98.9% of their income on a place to cook dinner in their bedroom.
It’s “Goodbye, doorman & elevator building” and “Hello again, 5th-floor walk-up with a stoop!” Hell’s Kitchen is a pretty lively, old-school New York neighbourhood. I’m told I’ll be living across the hall from a blind attorney with a penchant for boxing. Can’t wait to meet him.
As far as the Highs: This year, I got to visit/work from France, the UK, and Spain, spend my 40th birthday in Japan, see my comedian pal get married in Hawaii, and spend time with my cartooning family in San Diego for the Reuben Awards, which were all big highs. My frequent flyer points are back to 0.
As far as the Lows: Well, sadly, earlier this year, my wife and I parted ways after 11 years. We’re still friends; it’s nothing dramatic or salacious, just a very sad, unfortunate thing to go through. I haven’t mentioned it here this year because, well, it’s a private thing. Not exactly the kind of news you shout from the rooftops. It’s been a while since we split now, and I’ve had more than a few notes and comments over the past months from longtime readers and friends asking why she’s not in any of my photos or posts anymore, so I figured I should probably mention it.
I only just started mentioning it on stage, which my therapist assures me is not the most terrible way for a comedian to process a loss like this. (Don’t worry, the material is making fun of me, not her. I’m not that kind of comic.)
Speaking of which… This week, on a freezing night before Christmas, I jumped on stage to try new material while battling a head cold that had turned my brain to pudding. The medication I'd popped before the show held up about as well as my dignity. I stalked the stage with all the composure of George Bailey staggering around Potterstown. The audience laughed a bunch, but not in the parts I expected ‘em to. When I asked for the tape afterwards, the look I got suggested I might want to let this one fade into the mists of time.
…Now, to my annual poll!
I do this each year to take the temperature with you and see what I might cut out of the posts for next year or what kind of good stuff to double down on. Feel free to reply to this email with any suggestions, too. Be honest— Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, I can take it.
A Night at Radio City Music Hall
A shooter on the loose, a new comedy special, and the fraught journey of New York's longest Banh Mi. Ronny Chieng's "Love To Hate It" tour kicked off with several bangs.
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“There’s a shooter on the loose downstairs.”
Tommy Russo popped his head into the green room and shared the news as calmly as a Tour Manager can, “Just letting you know, NYPD is locking down 6th Avenue. They haven't caught him yet.”
“Oh, shit… I’ll check Citizen.” Ronny stood up, buttoning his suit jacket as Tommy disappeared down the hallway. He pulled out his phone to discover that shots were fired at a store around Times Square. (We’d later learn they’d chased the guy towards 51st, losing him right outside Radio City Music Hall.)
At that moment, nearly 6000 audience members were being loaded into the sold-out theatre as the police locked down and taped off the entire block. Something unheard of in midtown at peak hour.
Ronny’s wife, Hannah, started ‘checking the scan’ to see how they were progressing in getting people inside the building safely. It was good news— nearly everyone was already loaded in. The security checkpoints were operating smoothly, and we could even start on time. It felt like a very New York response to potential danger: "Sure, there might be an armed suspect in the area, but I paid full price for these fuckin’ orchestra seats!"
As Hannah looked up from her phone, a tall man in a charcoal hoodie appeared in the doorway. He pulled the hood back as he walked into the room, his driver trailing him, “Wait, shots fired in midtown?” Ronny turned with a big smile to see that it was his old friend, Trevor Noah: tonight’s surprise guest opener for the show. He’d just come in through the stage door on 51st, oblivious to the seriousness of the incident unfolding nearby.
Continue Reading “A Night at Radio City Music Hall…
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This month is 20 years since I handed in my resignation letter for my last full-time job.
Cartooning isn’t a side hustle or a hobby for me. I’ve paid my rent drawing funny pictures this whole time; I haven’t had any full or part-time jobs, no health insurance plan, 401k, and no paid leave. It’s a hell of a grind these days, but I wouldn’t want to do anything else. Your support means I can continue to do this work, and I’m incredibly grateful to you for it.
This is my resignation letter from the printing company I worked at when I was 20 years old:
If you haven’t yet, I’d love you to consider upgrading from free to paid for just $4.17 p/month. It’s a small amount that would make a big difference.
This week on Process Junkie, I shared my very specific Process for Submitting Cartoons to the New Yorker. (Then and now). It came after many, many requests from subscribers asking how things are done these days (and how they were done in the before-times.) Enjoy:
Molly and I send hugs.